As Charlie went to his bedroom to retrieve a jacket, Julie and Adam remained curled up on the sofa, this time together far more enticing than anything Charlie could have in mind.

"I don't think I'm going to be ready to leave this..." Julie thought, her face nuzzled against Adam's neck as she breathed in the familiar smell of cologne and laundry detergent.

.

As he held her close, time seemed irrelevant.

.

The decades didn't matter. The extra inches around his waistline and the wrinkles around his eyes didn't matter. The really bad things all seemed like they were part of a different lifetime. The squalid rumors, and the depressing legal saga—the life that was so far gone that stories about bathroom overdoses and begging receptionists at his office for money would all become a matter of public record—that all seemed like part of a separate universe. In this universe, he was as lovely as ever, and life worked out the way it was supposed to.

In this universe, she never left him.

In this universe, he went onto Harvard; went onto have a nice life.

They went onto have a nice life together, complete with 2.3 children who curiously acted nothing like his actual children, and a Golden Retriever who never barked or chewed on shoes.

This life was a wonderful one; replete with all of the promise the world held back in 1999.

And Julie wanted to stay in this world for as long as she possibly could.

February 26, 2002

Left.

Right.

Left.

As the crowds above screamed, Julie counted every step. Analyzed every move.

In her world, it was silent—the Canadian fans cheering in the stands all muted. As far as she was concerned, she was all alone, and she had one job: To stop Canada's Nicole Richardson from scoring the winning goal. Standing there drenched in sweat, the rest of the world faded away. It was just her and Nicole.

Battling it out for the gold.

.

It was a tight game.

The U.S. had finished the second period trailing 1-3, but offense finally hit their stride in the final period. Forward Shannon Ellis scored two back to back goals, tying the game up and giving the U.S. a second wind. The Americans continued to wear Canada down, and in those final minutes, Canada was looking outmatched

Then, with five seconds left in the game, Canada's struggling third line center stole the puck out from under Team USA.

Now on a breakaway, she was coming towards Julie.

Right.

Left.

Score.

Hearing the sound of the buzzer, Julie collapsed to her knees.

Four goals.

She'd allowed Canada to score four goals as the world watched, and now it was over.

A 4-3 loss to Canada.

Charlie returned, ready to summon the troops.

For a moment, Adam didn't budge, still reveling in his time with his middle school crush.

.

This was all too wonderful to pass up. He'd waited eighteen years to feel whole again, and now his beloved Julie was back in his arms, nuzzled up against him as though he were still the same person all of those fans had cheered for so many years ago.

The girl who's approval he'd longed for since he was 13 was acting like he was him again, and he wasn't about to let her go.

Not now.

He'd buy the house from Charlie if it meant he could stay there on the couch with her forever; her body resting against his. They didn't have to do anything else. They could just stay there like that, and it would be 100% worth it. More than worth it. He was finally complete again, and he didn't want to go back to the old feeling; to being a guy with all of the best parts missing.

.

Unfortunately, Charlie had other ideas.

"Come on."

"What?"

"Get up."

"Dude." Adam looked at him, his eyes pleading.

Don't screw up my one moment of happiness...

"What? Get up, Casanova."

"Hey now..."

"I object to this characterization, too." Luis laughed. "I really prefer to think that Casanova was like, 90% less Presbyterian."

"Episcopalian."

"Not any better."

"Asshole."

"Whatever. Both of you lovebirds. Get up. You too, Don Juan."

"I hate you so much..."

The most compliant of the bunch, Julie was the first to get up, extending a hand to Adam. As she helped him up, their fingers intertwined, and he thanked the stars above that he could still feel his hand—every second of her warmth felt like it was filling the emptiness inside.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so where are we going, dipshit?" Adam sighed, looking over at Charlie.

"Eden Hall."

"Pretty sure nobody packed their skates."

"We added skate rental and public ice time a couple years back." Charlie reminded him, making his way towards the door. "Yours truly got the alumni board to open things up for everyone."

"Ah yes. Bringing the magic of ice skating to Edina's underprivileged. Want to start a drive to collect refrigerators for Eskimos next year?"

"Jackass."

"I'm just saying."

"Whatever.

Charlie shrugged as he reached down for his shoes, knowing full and well Adam had a point—Edina needed ice like Seattle needed rain.

But still...

"It got Holy Cross and St. George's to do the same. And in those neighborhoods, it does matter."

"Fine. You win there."

"See? I can occasionally get things done."

"Yeah." Adam smiled, digging through his pockets for his keys and pack of cigarettes. "Stopped clocks. Twice a day."

"Asshole."

"I'm just saying."

As Adam came closer, Charlie glanced down at that stupid Rolex—the same one he'd had since senior year, and that had made Charlie roll his eyes every time. As Charlie noticed that the hands were on four and six, he smiled.

Some things never change.

"That would put me ahead of you. Four-thirty, huh?"

Adam stood confused for a moment before looking down himself.

Sure enough, Charlie was right.

"Forgot to have Laura re-set it."

"Your wife has to re-set your watch for you?"

"Michael J. Fox is better at brain surgery than I am at re-setting watches."

"You know what doesn't have to be re-set? Literally anything you buy at Walmart."

"Whatever."

"It's true." Charlie shook his head. "Timex knows what time it is. You do not."

"Heh, knowing exact time is for train conductors."

"Says the guy who doesn't know what time it is."

February 28, 2002

This is it.

It's over.

Julie stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her teammates as they collected their silver medals, the U.S. national anthem playing in the background as a packed crowd watched on.

.

They'd played well. She'd played well.

The loss to Canada was disappointing, but everybody had done what they were supposed to.

They weren't underprepared or undertrained; nobody had lost their focus.

Canada had simply been simply the better team. She understood that from the outset. As difficult as losing was, it was hardly an unforeseen blow.

.

No, that wasn't the real loss.

.

As she stood there, the people in the stands cheering, she could feel the universe closing in on her once and for all.

.

There would be no 2006.

.

Growing up, new doors were always opening.

With every passing year came new freedoms; new opportunities. From being allowed to hang out with her brothers at the arcade while her mom shopped, to playing for Team USA and Eden Hall, life until this point had always been about gaining things. She'd been the first of her friends in nursery school ride a bike without training wheels, the first in middle school to start sneaking out of the house at night. She'd been the first of her friends to have sex back in eighth grade; the first to climb the forest service watchtower, and the first to realize there was a life outside of Maine. Good ideas and bad, she'd always been the first to push the limits; to chafe against life's boundaries.

All she'd ever wanted was to be older.

To be free.

To experience the full bounty that the world had to offer.

But now, now age was doing the opposite.

Now, being 21 and a woman meant that doors were shutting with no new ones opening in their place.

.

She'd have to go back to New Hampshire.

She'd have to go back to organic chemistry and notecards; to a school that really wasn't quite as interesting as she'd imagined. She'd have to go back to the small town and staid Puritan architecture; to the boys who all sounded the same, and the icy winters that never seemed to end.

She'd probably play out the next two seasons for The Big Green, but their mascot was Keggy the Keg. That barely even counted as hockey. And then...then hockey would be over. There would be no gold medal. No rematch.

Being noteworthy would be over.

She'd just be joining the great anonymous mass of adulthood.

Life was calling, and it no longer sounded as interesting as it had at twelve.

"Alright, who's riding with me?"

Keys and a pack of Malboros in hand, Adam made his way outside as Julie followed close behind. Russ, Ken, and Ken's wife all joined while the rest of the group split up.

"So you excited to go back to the ol' alma mater?" Russ joked, taking his place in the back of Adam's Audi.

Adam rolled his eyes, reaching for his cigarette lighter before they could even leave the driveway. As the rest of the bunch fastened their seatbelts, he took a deep breath before giving a nod.

"I can hardly contain my excitement."

"Looks like it. I knew I could count on you for school spirit."

"Yup. One of the many things I excel at..."

"One of many indeed."

Julie looked down at his right hand, noticing that his ring finger sat curled in on itself, empty.

"So when is the last time you've been back?" She asked, her brow furrowed.

.

The Eden Hall ring was very much a thing for snowbelt bankers and lawyers; men of a certain type eager to broadcast that they'd once dominated over the rest of their privileged brethren. The engraved EH was totemic in the region, drawing knowing smiles from the guys who wore charcoal suits to work every day.

He was also one of a handful of Ducks to have had one, the $1,200 price tag putting it out of reach for scholarship kids at the time.

Now, the ring was gone, his finger gnarled. He wore his wedding ring, and his father's old signet ring, but no school ring.

.

"Graduation."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't go when they retired your jersey?"

"Nope. One round of that was enough."

"Wasn't that...kind of a big deal?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Julie thought back to the pictures of their class reunion, and how he was nowhere to be found. How he'd supposedly been too busy working to join his old classmates just a few miles down the road.

She thought back to the conversation of Laura's that she'd overheard on their way to the mall; talk of sending the boys to Shattuck-St. Mary's or The Blake School, but no mention of Eden Hall.

She thought back to their years of dating; of the way that even back then, he seemed to re-write history, deleting the more complicated parts. The way that he seemed to scrub his mom, and the Hawks, and 1,000 other things from his discussions. He didn't truly forget them, but just as Eden Hall had removed him from their public facade, he too seemed to think that not talking about things made them go away.

.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to remind him of all of the good times they'd had; of how nice those four years were.

She wondered if any of it really had been erased from his memories: Did they still have that evening in his father's office, looking out over the city as they talked about their hopes and dreams for the future? Did they still have their first kiss? Did they still have General Tsao, the imaginary panda they adopted? What about the bonfires before homecoming every year, and the way that he never could resist stealing the last drink of her Strawberry Kiwi Snapple at lunch, and the time that he decided that one of his carrot sticks looked like a person, so he named it Kevin, and carried it around with him for the next week?

Had she been erased along with everything else? Had some of her happiest memories purged into the abyss of his despair?

She wanted to point out that ignoring the past doesn't make it go away; that it never did.

Instead, she just reached over for his hand. He returned her squeeze the best he could, her eyes lighting up as she felt his thumb pressing against hers.

He still remembers.

"You uh, you think we'll need to take a little field trip behind the bleachers for old times' sake?" She joked, looking over at him with a conspiratorial glance.

Adam's cheeks grew pink as some of his fonder high school memories came rushing back; Julie always quite happy to explore their surroundings together. They'd made good use of the school's 230 acres over the course of their four years, and he still remembered every one of those adventures.

"I don't know. I think I'd vote for Eden Pond."

"Under the willow, or behind the equipment shed?"

"How about both?" He smiled, longing to still be 18. For this to still be a realistic possibility. To have to worry about whether his excitement was showing in his pants.

"I could go for that. But have you still got what it takes for a double header?"

"I'm still your two-minute man." He chuckled. "I'm exactly mediocre enough to pull that off.

He glanced down, the outline of his Levis as chaste as ever.

How come your ears and nose continue to grow with age, but that doesn't...

"But uh, we might make a trip to the Minnesota Club between rounds. Lunch makes everything more enjoyable."

Julie giggled, shaking her head as she looked over at that familiar smile, and the way it lit up his entire face.

He really had been a mediocre lover even in his prime, and he'd also been wonderful enough in all of the other ways that it never much mattered.

"And that sensible outlook is why nobody has ever minded how much you have in common with minute rice."

"I'd uh, I'd just like to point that you have innocent passengers back here." Russ reminded them. "Really...really could have gone my whole life without knowing any of that."

"You don't want to hear about my sex life at 18?"

"I don't want to hear about your sex life ever. I like to think that your kids were adopted from a Chris-Craft brochure."

Adam chuckled, leaning his head back against the headrest.

"They don't even really show any people in those brochures. And when they do, it's from like, really far away. They could be using mannequins, and we'd never know."

"Doesn't matter." Russ pulled his phone out of his pocket, Googling the images for reference. "Kids look like they came with a boat."

"Only Will. The rest came with a bottle of Tanqueray."

"Thanks. I needed that mental image."

"I figured you did. You're very welcome."

Russ shook his head.

"I'm still telling myself they were ordered alongside some like, rain gear and a replacement anchor."

"Keep telling yourself that, dude." Adam laughed. "Keep telling yourself that."