Practice was agony, and Charlie could see it on his friend's face as they skated off the ice. His face was tight with concentration, his lips occasionally curling inward, his eyes slightly watery with tears. His left hand held his right arm close to his body, and his shoulders were hunched slightly.
"Adam." Charlie fell into step at his friend's side. "You okay?"
"Yeah…yeah, I'm just fine," Adam replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He wouldn't raise his eyes to meet Charlie's.
It took all of Adam's willpower not to cry out in pain. Every motion, every movement, every touch sent waves of sharp pain tearing through his wrist and forearm. He slipped off his gear as best he could, trying to hold his wrist immobile. He could feel Charlie's eyes on him, and he knew they would have words once they got back to the dorm. But all he could think about right now was the pain. It blinded him, overtook him, and ultimately, Adam knew it would defeat him.
The walk back to the dorm was silent. Adam held his wrist close to him, wishing there was some way to ease the pain. Charlie walked beside him, torn between anger and concern. He was angry that Adam wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't heed to his advice. But his concern was outweighing that anger. He couldn't be angry, not when his best friend was in so much pain.
"Let's get some ice on that," he said as they let themselves into their dorm. Adam nodded wordlessly. Charlie motioned for him to sit down while he got the ice from the freezer.
"I won't lie, Adam. I'm ticked off that you're doing this to yourself," he said, grabbing a T-shirt from the dresser and laying it gently across Adam's arm.
"I know you are." His friend winced as the ice pack pressed against his wrist.
"Do you want to end your career? Is that what you want?" Charlie asked, his self-control wavering slightly.
"Sometimes I do, Charlie," Adam replied.
"Why?" Adam found his patience wearing thin. The pain was getting to him, and he didn't feel like another lecture about how he was jeopardizing his career.
"Damn it, Charlie, you think I've got it all made, huh? You think because I got a full ride and all it's just fine for me, huh? Well let me tell you something:" Adam winced briefly as another wave of pain coursed through his wrist, "It's not all fun and games. You know as well as me what D1 hockey is like, and you know full well how my dad is. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm playing for myself, just for him. So yeah, I wouldn't mind ending my career." Charlie couldn't quite find any words to deny what his friend had just said.
"You got to work for it, Conway. Maybe it was hell, but you got to work for your spot on the team totally on your own." Adam's voice had shifted from anger to sadness, and Charlie felt his own anger melting away. The anger was all a façade, he realized that now. Adam wasn't angry at him, wasn't upset with him. He was sad and frustrated and powerless. Even as a college student, he was still his father's puppet. He loved hockey, and he wasn't going to quit just because of his dad. But to play was to voluntarily subject himself to the verbal abuse, to the endless insults and deprecation.
Later that evening, Adam found himself sitting outside their dorm, not really wanting to talk to Charlie anymore. He had a book in front of him, but he wasn't reading it. He was just staring at the page, feeling numb inside while the aching in his wrist was almost becoming bearable. He'd dropped by the trainer to have it wrapped, and she'd scolded him for not coming in sooner. Her first inclination had been to tell the coaches, but Adam had begged her not to. He knew his body; he knew when he couldn't play. At least he hoped he did. He had plenty of reason to doubt himself and plenty of instances to back it up with, but he didn't want to have this debate. More to the point, he didn't have a choice. He was here on scholarship, and the last thing he needed was to get red-shirted.
"Hey, I didn't know this was your dorm." He looked up and saw Jade standing next to him. She offered a tentative smile, which he returned a little reluctantly.
"You want to be alone?" she asked. Adam shrugged, not wanting to drive her off, but not really wanting the company either.
"Just tell me. I don't want to intrude," she continued, "I won't be offended. Honest." Adam half-smiled in her direction.
"I guess I'd rather be alone. I just kind of need someone to talk to." Something flickered in her eyes, and she motioned to the space next to him.
"Mind if I sit?"
"Not at all." She slid down next to him and he found himself drawing comfort from her presence.
"I bet I can guess part of what's bothering you," she said after a moment.
"What's that?"
"This." She grasped his bandaged wrist and lifted it gently from his knee.
"Good call."
"Hockey injury?"
"Yeah. Just a check into the boards."
"Go to the trainer?"
"Yeah."
"She's cool, isn't she? Doesn't tell the coaches unless you let her." Adam nodded. He was damn lucky the trainer was sensitive to athletes' obligations to their teams.
"Well, I'd tell you to go to a doctor, but I'm betting you won't, because they'll tell the coaches to bench you," she said after releasing his wrist. Adam nodded, a little surprised by her assumption.
"How did you—"
"Did the same thing in high school soccer, only it was a back injury." She said this without a hint of trying to one-up his own injury, and with total simplicity. No playing it up or glorifying it.
"High school soccer, huh?" he asked, trying to change the direction of this conversation.
"Yeah, what about it?" she challenged.
"Well, as I recall it, Edina beat you guys 6-1 and 5-0," he replied.
"Shut up. You can't claim victory. You didn't even go to Edina."
"Hey, who was calling me cake-eater out on the soccer field?" Adam was thoroughly enjoying this. The rivalry between St. Louis Park and Edina was long-standing, and he knew athletics were a sore spot for Park. Edina was one of the larger schools in the conference; St. Louis Park was the smallest. By over a thousand students. It was only in the past year that Park had begun to compete seriously in some sports, hockey and soccer in particular.
"The papers called you a cake-eater when you were on the Ducks. I was just going on what I knew," she replied, "Everyone knew you as that." Short pause.
"And you're from Edina. And I'm from St. Louis Park. I'm obligated."
"Obligated," Adam snorted, "You said it yourself: I didn't go to Edina."
"Yaah, we're going in circles, kid. Give it a rest. Besides, now that I'm sitting next to the famed Adam Banks in the dorm hallway, I figure you're obligated to tell me a little more about yourself." She grinned at him, but there wasn't anything particularly flirtatious about it.
"Like what?"
"Like…what you're studying, why you chose Michigan over the U…" She trailed off and waved a hand around, as if to say, etc., etc.
"Well, I don't know what I'm studying yet. Maybe psychology. And…I chose Michigan because they gave me a full ride," he answered.
"Oh yeah…I remember. The U was already loaded with big-time players, so they only offered you a partial scholarship. That was big news," she said.
"What, you keep up with hockey news?"
"Nah, sports news in general. I used to hate hockey until we beat you guys my senior year," she replied with another grin, "Yeah, admit it. We were better than you that year. Admit it." Adam shook his head.
"I was not involved." She laughed.
"Bet you were glad you were at Eden Hall that night. Wouldn't have wanted to get beaten by a bunch of kids from the ghetto." That sent both of them into stitches. St. Louis Park was by no means a "ghetto" school, but it had far more color than any other school in the conference, and it was known affectionately by many as the "ghetto" school of the Classic Lake.
They laughed for awhile and traded a few more half-hearted, but good-natured, insults, before settling down again.
"So what else is on your mind?" Jade leaned back against the wall.
"My dad's getting on my case, which sounds pretty mundane, but he gets pretty crazy when it comes to hockey. He flipped because I didn't play well in our opener," Adam explained, "And of course he doesn't even know about this." He motioned to his wrist.
"Oh yeah. I remember reading about him in the papers a few times," Jade replied, "Seems to me like he's trying to live through you and your brothers, since he can't live his own dream." Adam was surprised by her apparent perceptiveness, and he suddenly felt very vulnerable, totally unprotected. It was like she could see anything and everything she wanted. He unconsciously pulled his arms closer around his body.
"I'm sorry. Maybe…I shouldn't be the one you talk to," Jade said, seeing his arms tighten around his body, "I don't even know you that well." She reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
"Take care of yourself, Adam. And if you want to talk some more, I'm down in 418."
It was late when Charlie heard Adam come back into the dorm. He didn't say anything, just turned over and faced the wall. His friend's words were still fresh in his mind.
You got to work for it. Yeah, he got to work for it. He got to work like mad during high school to turn the scouts' heads. He got to work his ass off during tryouts, to try and prove that he was better than the rest of the walk-ons. He got to sit anxiously outside the locker room, waiting for the list to be posted, and then frantically searching the list when it was finally posted for his name.
Adam was right. Charlie had always thought that his friend had almost everything going for him. Money, brains, and mad hockey skills. It'd only been recently that Adam had started to let hints drop about his father and the pressure he placed on his son. And with the messages that were starting to appear more and more frequently on their answering machine, it was hard for Charlie not to figure it out.
He admitted fully to being jealous. During the early days, it'd always been an effort for Charlie not to feel resentful of Adam and his economic status. While Charlie was looking for a job when he was 14, Adam was still out fooling around with his friends. While Charlie had to scrape together every little bit of his earnings to buy an old Honda Accord, Adam had received a brand new Volvo 850 for his 16th birthday. And when the going got rough at Eden Hall…Charlie bit down on his lip. He'd been so quick to drop his friend, to group him along with those other rich kids. He'd been so quick to forget all the times Adam had gone with them into the heart of downtown Minneapolis for some games of street hockey. He'd been so quick to let all the resentment come to the surface.
College had quickly taken care of almost all the animosity between them. They were freshmen at a huge university, scared out of their wits. They were the only freshmen on the varsity squad, and Charlie remembered that Adam had been so relieved when he made varsity. He had been dreading having to play on varsity alone. They shared a dorm, shared several seminars, and shared common interests. They also kept each other sane, which, Charlie thought with a smile, was hardly an easy task. Adam was the studious one, always studying in his free time or reading extra on topics he'd studied in class. Charlie was the one who reveled in their newfound freedom, going out to explore the city and staying out late on weekends. When Adam got too engrossed in his books and was cracking under the stress, Charlie would drag him out to a party or some sporting event. And when Charlie got too rowdy or tried to get out of homework, Adam would haul him back to the dorm and get him studying.
There were similarities, though, too. Neither of them would give up an inch during hockey practice. They went all out, 100%, and in games, they pushed even harder, demanding everything possible from their bodies. Both of them wanted to be better, wanted to be the best. That, Charlie reflected, was probably what had driven the wedge between them originally. They had different styles, but in the end, they had the same goal in mind. To be the best. And there was only room for one on most teams. Adam had done it purely by skill, scoring goal after goal and constantly improving his abilities. Charlie had done it through leadership, earning respect for his gritty attitude and intensity on the ice. At one point in time, it had driven them apart. But now it had pushed them together. Now they were just two freshmen trying to make names for themselves on the collegiate stage. Everyone at this level was insanely good, and Charlie had realized quickly that he and Adam were no longer shooting for the top. They were shooting for a spot on the team. That had probably gotten rid of most of their differences almost immediately.
Things would work out, Charlie assured himself, things would eventually fall into place.
The second game of the hockey season was even worse than the first for Adam. He was taking all sorts of checks from the Minnesota players; they knew he was a Minnesotan, and a damn good player, and they weren't going to show him any mercy. Time after time, he hit the boards, then the ice, and every time, he forced himself back to his feet, pushing doggedly on, the pain in his wrist at times so overwhelming that he could barely keep his eyes in focus.
Halftime came and went in a haze of color, sound, and pain. Adam's wrist was badly swollen and painful, despite the repeated icing and taping he'd gotten from the trainer before and during the game, and his concentration was wandering. Somehow, he managed to keep himself in the game, but the checks were getting harder and harder to endure. One of these times, he was going to hit the ice and not be able to get up. Sweat stung his eyes, and his hair was clinging to his face and neck. Not only the physical exertion, but the mental exertion of blocking out the pain as well, were taking more energy out of him than he thought possible.
When the final whistle blew, it barely registered with Adam that they had lost 2-1. His legs were on the verge of giving out from under him, and he could barely skate off the ice. Somewhere along the line, he found Charlie walking next to him, supporting him and guiding him through the crowds of players, media and game officials towards the locker room.
Charlie didn't say a word until after they were safely in their dorm. And when Adam was expecting a reprimand, all he got was a plea for time off from hockey. Charlie's eyes and voice were concerned, not angry, and that made it that much harder for Adam to refuse. Charlie was worried about him, wanted to help him. How could he refuse that?
"I'll be okay," he said in a voice that was not his own. It was like he was on auto-pilot. It was what he'd been trained to say. Charlie shook his head, but didn't say anything more. He had pushed as far as he was going to go. Adam was an adult. He could take care of himself. Or so Charlie hoped. As he was pushing back the covers on his bed, he became aware of a knocking on the door. Adam got up to answer it, and seconds later, stepped back. A young Asian woman entered, and Charlie stood up to greet her.
"Hi, I'm Charlie. I'm Adam's roommate."
"Good to meet you. I'm Jade. I'm right down the hall in 418." They shook hands, and Charlie immediately picked up on Jade's confidence, both in her firm handshake, and the way she was carrying herself.
"How do you know Adam?" he asked, since it was obvious she and Adam had already been introduced. Jade blushed a little.
"Uh, well…one of my friends kicked the soccer ball over the net and it hit Adam in the face," she replied with a sheepish grin. Adam turned his head slightly and indicated the faint bruise on his cheek. Charlie laughed a little.
"Whatever works, huh?"
"Yeah, just about," Jade replied.
"So what brings you to our humble abode?" Adam asked. Charlie noted the definite change in his friend's attitude around Jade.
"Well, I know you guys are tired out from your game, but a group of us are having pizza and playing games and I was just wondering if you wanted to join us." She said it so casually, Adam and Charlie both noted. There was no innuendo, no suggestiveness. She was just asking them to come hang out, something fairly uncommon at Michigan, or at any big school for that matter. Girls tended to be more flirtatious, or at least more forward. Neither young man detected any sort of suggestion from Jade's invitation.
"Well, you coming?" she asked, "'Cause the pizza's gonna be gone real fast."
Later that evening, when most people had cleared out, Adam found himself sitting on the couch facing Jade, who was sprawled out on the other sofa. They'd made small talk most of the evening, but gradually, they were approaching more serious subjects, subjects that Adam was reluctant to discuss with Jade because of her apparent ability to perceive that which was left unsaid.
"Ten to one when I go back to my dorm there'll be another scathing message from my dad," he said. Jade gazed at him for a moment.
"Why do you care so much what your dad thinks?" She managed to say it without sounding harsh or critical.
"Well…it's hard to explain." Adam almost laughed at himself. No, it wasn't hard to explain at all. He just didn't want to.
"You don't have to answer, you know. Let me know if I'm prying," Jade said, sensing his discomfort.
"It's just…I can't have hockey without having my dad in there somewhere too," he explained after a moment.
"Well, then don't listen to him," she stated with a shrug, "It's that simple."
"Yeah…I don't anymore. But when I was a kid…it was hard not to." The things he left unsaid in that short statement seemed to spark something in Jade, who sat forward then, her attention focused entirely on Adam.
"Did he hit you?" Pure and simple. Straight up, she just wanted to know. Adam looked down at his hands, remembering the ringing in his ears, the stinging pain in his cheeks.
"Yeah…a few times. Not many, though." Jade nodded slowly, and in her eyes, Adam was sure he saw not just sympathy but empathy. Was it possible, he thought, that she too had gone through difficult times? There was a long silence, filled only by the low murmur of voices in the other room.
"So you and Charlie," Jade finally said, steering the conversation away from such a difficult subject, "Opposites attract, huh?"
"Well, I hate to say it, but you don't really know us," Adam replied. Jade smiled.
"I know, I know. I'm just basing it on what I observed. You're pretty quiet and reserved, Charlie's gregarious and outgoing," she said.
"Yeah…we're pretty good friends." It came out wrong, the way he said it, and Jade had picked up on the bitterness in his voice before he could retract it.
"Got a lot of things on your mind, don't you?" she asked. Adam nodded. She sat back and observed him for a moment, and Adam felt a little like he was under scrutiny, although he was pretty sure she wouldn't do that to him.
"Everyone sees you as the strong, silent type, don't they?" she asked, "They figure you just bottle up emotions and keep them hidden." Again, Adam felt as if this conversation was turning against him, felt as if he was being exposed, being made vulnerable and he was powerless to stop it. Jade blushed a little and bit down on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry. I'm too direct sometimes, I know." Everything she had said was true, but Adam just didn't know how to open himself up like this, to let someone see inside, to allow the wounds to show. It was true: he was the strong, silent type, who never showed emotion, but it was just because he never believed anyone really cared. Charlie was the closest anyone had ever come to really caring about his emotional well-being, but Adam knew as well as the next person that male interaction generally did not involve talk about emotions.
"Hey Banks. Ready to go?" Charlie came into the room, and Jade saw Adam subtly slip on the proverbial mask.
"Yeah." Adam stood up and turned to Jade.
"Thanks for inviting us," he said.
"Yeah, it was nice to meet you," Charlie added with a smile. Jade stood up and saw them to the door.
"No problem guys. Catch you later."
