"It's nice to see you Adam," Bombay stuck out his hand, and I shook it, nodding.
"Nice to you see you too, Coach."
"You got all your gear?" Bombay glanced at my backpack of stuff.
I knew what he meant by gear. "Um, I haven't skated since I broke my ankle actually…I'm not supposed to be skating yet," I lied. The doctor had actually recently cleared me to slowly start doing psychical activities, but I had no desire to play hockey anymore.
Bombay eyed me suspiciously, "Well, how about we put it in the car, just in case?" I don't think my saying no would have made a difference as Bombay was already walking towards my garage. He found my hockey gear sitting on a shelf. A bit of dust had actually settled, and lifted as Bombay threw everything into my duffle bag.
He tossed my stuff into the trunk of his car, and I got into the front seat. An hour in the car with just Coach and I, was I going to make it? He backed out of my driveway and I looked out of the window. This was going to be a long trip.
"Adam, the Ducks have been really worried about you."
"Well, I'm sorry," I snapped. I am so tired of everyone making me feel guilty.
"It's OK, Adam; I just want you to know that people are there for you."
"I know, I'm sorry Coach. I realize I haven't been a very good friend."
"It's alright, everyone will just be happy to see you."
"Yep…" I trailed off and looked out the window again, and absentmindedly ran my fingers along the scars on my wrist.
"So, have you given any through to playing college hockey?"
I snorted, "Yea right, nobody is interested in recruiting me. All my scholarship offers have been withdrawn. I don't even know if I am going to graduate high school at this point."
"You will. Your mother told me about your situation. It is a good idea to simply just take the test and earn your diploma that way."
"Yea, I guess so."
"Do you remember what I told you before? About my friend Luke Mayer? I gave him a call and he is actually going to be scouting at the tournament the Ducks are playing at. I told him about you, he is very excited to meet you and thinks you would be an excellent addition to his team. I know you wanted to go Division 1, Adam, but this may be a good way to start your college career, transferring is always an option in the future. Just don't rule out all of the possibilities, consider it."
"OK, I will," which was probably the most sincere statement I had made in weeks. Honestly, I had no other options at this point, and at least it wasn't far away. However, the question remained, did I want to play hockey? I honestly didn't know. The drive, the excitement, and the will to get better and go back to it had all disappeared. I was too tired all the time and found that I really didn't are anymore.
It was as if Bombay had been reading my mind, "I know it feels like you will never want to go back to it, but just give it a shot. I'm not saying the road will be an easy one, but if you preserve and re-ignite that fire I know you have, then you will make it."
"Thanks," I mumbled.
He smiled at me, and then pointed to a sign in front of us. We were pulling into the Joe Louis Arena, home of the Detroit Red Wings. "The Ducks are having practice right now, we can catch about the last half hour."
He parked the car and we walked into the arena, and down to the ice area. I stepped out of the tunnel and onto the bench area and looked out on the ice. The team looked good scrimmaging. It looked like Charlie's stickhandling had improved, I watched as he faked past Guy and scored on Julie.
"Adam?" a voice asked from behind me.
I turned around and saw Connie standing there, "Adam! It is so good to see you!" she threw her arms around me and gave me a hug.
I stiffened. Nobody has hugged me, let alone even touch me in months. I awkwardly returned her hug. "Hey, Connie, how are you?"
"Not to bad, just waiting for practice to get over."
I noticed she had ice wrapped around her shoulder, "What happened?"
"Oh, Fulton checked me into the boards a little too hard. It's just a little bruised, but I should be fine for the game tomorrow, I am so excited you are here!"
I heard the whistle blow and everyone stopped skating, which allowed them to notice I was standing there. "Adam! Adam!" Everyone was calling my name and shouting at me.
I was uncomfortable. I wanted everyone to stop paying attention to me. As the team filed into the locker-room, I exchanged hellos with everyone, and forced a smile onto my face. The last person to walk by me was Charlie who looked at me closely.
"Why have you ignored us?"
"I don't want to start this now, Charlie," I said quietly, looking down.
He watched me for a second before he nodded, "I know, you are right. I've missed you, man. The ice is not the same without you, we've had to really step up our game. We recruited some new players, but none of them are near as good as you—added together that is."
I followed him into the locker room as he updated me on the season and some of the going-ons at school. "People have been asking about you, but we haven't really said much. We don't really know much."
"I know, Charlie, I'm sorry," I didn't really want to hear all of this.
"I'm not trying to hurt you Adam, I know you already are, but don't shut the Ducks out, don't shut your best friend out. We want to help you," he looked me straight in the eye, "and we are going too, whether you like it or not."
I had to smile, this was so like Charlie, always the captain. Always the leader.
"Adam…" I turned around to see Julie standing there. I stood up and allowed her to give me a hug. "We need to talk."
"I know," I was quickly growing tired of hearing that.
"We are going to get some food after this, are you going to join us?"
I shrugged, "Sure."
"Good, because if you said no, I was going to drag you there kicking and screaming."
The team settled on going to the Hard Rock Café and we were able to get a private banquet room for ourselves. Personally, I would have rather been in the noisy hall and allow any civilized conversation to be drowned out. I sat between Charlie and Julie who both kept giving me sideway's glances as I nervously kept folding and refolding my napkin. Finally, Julie grabbed my hand and gently took the napkin out of my death grip.
"Thanks," I said sheepishly.
"Adam, you don't have to be nervous. Everything is fine."
She still hadn't let go of my hand, but I realized that I didn't want her to let go. She looked me in the eye, "everything is going to be OK."
I just nodded, pretending to agree, but I knew better. What could I do? Could I tell her how I felt about hockey, about life, about her? Could I trust her?
That's when she kissed me.