----- Grace Hartin

After being rudely woken by the sun peeking around the edge of my curtain sometime around noon I smiled at the what had become the warm glow of street lamps that barely lit up the large white window frame. My body, now thoroughly rested after working through the tail end of the graveyard shift at the hospital, felt tight as I lied on my side, but I couldn’t bring myself to move and spoil the picture perfect moment.

Instead I took the time, lying in bed, to think about the day I had just had.

It had really started the day before when I was unfairly called in to help fill the empty slots of people who missed their shifts for whatever reason. Normally this wouldn’t bother me and I definitely wouldn’t call it unfair because as a member of the hospital staff I agreed to situations like this. Except at the same time I never agreed to a situation quite like this.

My flight to see my old friend and relive the past left in two hours, but instead I had to cancel it and go into work. As much as I loved being able to help people, for once I couldn’t wait to help myself and enjoy a vacation.

Maybe even see whatever happened with Jonathan.

The frustration and anger that I held against myself ever since I fucked up my number made the pleasant tightness in my body ache, so I stretched out onto my back, making sure to crack my fingers and roll my head around the atlas. Amanda had tried to be helpful and tell me that I didn’t fuck up my number, but after a while she realized that if that was true then he just didn’t want to talk to me. In my opinion, that was far worse. There was always the slight possibility too that he had simply been so drunk that night that he didn’t even remember me, yet that didn’t really help me feel any better either. Especially because I had felt pretty happy with the way that our evening ended after his shitty beginning.

I shut my eyes and groaned at the mistake that I had made five years ago. Running my hands through my hair I repeated the phrase that I had been using ever since, “You had one job Grace, one job and you fucked it up.”

This was supposed to be my chance to fix it and have the fairytale ending that I always dreamed about. Instead I was emptying bedpans and walking miles through the hospital to attending to patients in the most random of rooms. 198, 674, 493, 355, and any other number that you could pull out of your ass. The worst part of it all was that I loved it. Running to the patient who didn’t understand that the call button was to be pushed once unless they were dying and even if they didn’t get an immediate response I was on my way. Helping the softball player with the stitched knee to the bathroom and back. Explaining to a very handsome father how to care for his daughter sensitive stomach for the next week or so. Followed, of course, by then cleaning up her puke.

While it wasn’t always pretty, it was fulfilling and I knew what I was doing. Unlike when I was dealing with guys.

Example A: Jonathan Toews.

One job Grace, one fucking job.

Opening my eyes I was greeted by my blank ceiling. At some point during my slumber I had the faint recollection of waking up and thinking something along the lines of the blank ceiling being my future for me to create as I pleased. Now it was just boring and I regretted never installing a ceiling fan or at least a light.

Rolling away from the window my eyes snapped to the cork board above my desk. Between the litter of photos and letters a mass of tickets created a growth that hung precariously by a couple tacks. On top the ticket to my friends show stared me down, but more importantly (sorry Aaron) I saw the edge of a Bruins ticket stick itself out of the fray and into the limelight.

According to Jack it was around two in the morning when the hospital got the call and directed it to him. Less than an hour later he was paging me to come to his office and asking me if I enjoyed hockey.

“No shit I do,” if it hadn’t been Jack sitting across from me I would have used work friendly words, but at nearly three in the morning talking to my friend was going to sound like talking to my friend whether he was also my boss or not. “We go to games together, so what’s the real question?”
If this conversation was taking place during the normal hours of human function he probably would’ve pretended to be hurt and his answer would be dragged out for a good half an hour over a drink or two, but instead he handed me the bottom of a prescription form that looked like he had hastily torn off.

“I got a call from the Bruins front office,” he paused briefly to see my reaction, but I was so tired that my face couldn’t process my emotions. “Anyways, they’re looking for someone to join their medical team. Some sort of emergency that must be pretty bad because they said gender doesn’t matter as long as they are good at what they do. I’ve heard you complain about the lack of women working in the NHL, so here’s your chance to spearhead something.”

This time he took a longer pause for me to catch up.

“On the back of that paper is a number to call at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow. I’m guessing that’s your first test so don’t be a minute early or a minute late. They’ve called me and asked for medical help before, and while once you’re in you’re like family you need to get in first.”

Jack just gave me the key to my future. I looked down at the paper in my hands and folded it in half. He could totally be pulling my leg, but there was no way that I was going to took at the other side until 8:55 the next morning as to not jinx it.

“Thank you,” was all that I could manage out. With this news I felt like my purpose had ben fulfilled and suddenly my twenty four hour day hit me, giving my body permission to shut down. I could barely even keep my eyes open and tried to make it look like I was deep in thought. “What about here though?” All the patients that weren’t mine, but I had been caring for, flashed behind my eyelids like the slideshow we had been showed out first day on the job.

Cooing like a parent might their child fighting sleep, as I was, Jack came around his desk and helped me up. “This opportunity is a real job, at the same time we’ll call it an internship to help with your hours. You can always come back if you don’t like it there and I definitely expect you here during the offseason.” My consciousness fading I laughed at his touching comment and let him lead me from his office out to his car through the labelled maze of the hospital.

Jack was a special friend to have. We never had romantic history, as he had dated Sara when we first met, but he was the kind of guy that a girl would be after. Smart, funny, caring, successful and just a great person overall it terrified me when Sara told me that they broke up. On one hand I was upset because they had been a cute couple and on the other I loved having him as a friend, something a bad breakup would have ruined. Thankfully for the three of us it had been a mutual ‘I’m not feeling the sex and romance, but I like you’ and he continued to spend time with us as a good friend.

At the door to my apartment building I moved to give him a hug, but ended up hanging off his body. “I am ridiculously tired you know,” I began as he helped me up the stairs, “but I have been relatively aware of what you have said to me and I want to thank you for giving me the number. There are so many qualified people in the hospital, yet you chose me and that makes me feel special.” My key clicked the door unlocked and I heard one of my roommates heavy footsteps leaving their room and coming down the hall.

Jack laughed, “Oh you’re special alright, especially when you’re tired.” He opened the door for me and gave me a hug before pushing me inside, “Remember to call on time and don’t forget me.”

“How could I?” I shouted around the closing door at his back running down the stairs back to work. After a day I felt loopy and somehow he was functioning. That would explain why he was the boss.

Emma looked just about as bad as I assumed I did, tying the top of her basketball shorts around her waist “Damn Grace, you’re finally home.”

I shrugged my bag off my shoulder and let my jacket fall on top of it, “What time is it? At one I lost any hope of ever making it home.”

“It’s like four. I thought Katie might’ve put the chain lock on the door, but I didn’t want to get out of bed, so I’ve been napping until you got home just incase,” she reached around me and locked the door, “I guess she doesn’t do it unless she’s home alone though, so good night.”

“Wait, wait,” I sloppily chased after her, “I have good news.” She nodded her acknowledgement while flopping down on her bed face first. Her room reflected her passion for art rather than her being a business major or basketball player. The once clean white walls were covered in a mix of quotes, doodles and lyrics in an assortment of colors. Twice we had had to repaint it because she ran out of space, but since then she had invested in sketch books and everything that made it onto her walls had been reviewed to make sure she loved it.

While she played basketball, the only proof being her shorts and the ball at the foot of her bed, the only other sport Emma really enjoyed was soccer (or fútbol in her native Venezuela). My news, however, was something that I hoped she would be excited about for me, even if she only watched hockey because Sara and I did. “Jack got a call from the Bruins front office,” I could see her falling asleep, but I had to tell someone, “and he gave me their number so that I can get a job with them.”

Her grunt of approval was almost enough for me and I tiptoed across her floor for a final conformation high five before I slipped into my room and fell asleep in the clothes now twisted around me.

Thinking back on my day the opportunity that Jack gave me pretty much made up for what him calling me in took from me. I checked the time on my phone to see if it was even worth getting out of bed at this point. 9:58PM and no form of contact from Amanda. That meant that she was out partying a win or moping over a loss. Either way, I really only cared about her response to my email. I had written it in a haze around noon when Sara woke me up for my flight and I told her to go for me. If I remembered correctly I spent more of the three lined email apologizing for not being able to go than actually telling her why I couldn’t go. My fingers absentmindedly flicked through the applications on my iPhone towards the mail icon, but my mind took over just in time to save me the embarrassment of seeing whatever crap I had written.

Maybe it was so crappy that she decided that it wasn’t worth calling me or even shooting me a quick text.

The same feeling Jonathan must have had after the night out following the convention.

No, stop it.

I threw my comforter off of me and got out of bed as fast as I could. Living in the past wasn’t worth my time and the only way that I was going to get ahead was by putting my best self forward.

Unfortunately that was not the person that I was seeing in the mirror in front of me. Being Wasian I appreciated the best of both worlds situation that my parents gifted me, especially in terms of my hair. If you looked at it’s warm red tinted brown you might think that it was average white girl hair.

To really understand it though, you had to stop and work with it.

Honestly I could not remember the last time that I had used a hair brush. Usually when I told people that they recoiled like it also meant that I couldn’t remember the last time that I showered. That wasn’t the case at all though. I prided myself in showering every day, my hair just didn’t require brushing beyond running my fingers through it.

As I fixed my hair I examined the spiderweb of red lines that my hair had imprinted on my face as I slept to make sure they were only that: imprints. Once upon a time I would have woken up to red pimples that I would then paint over with my newest BB cream or concealer. Now I was thankful every morning when I woke up and could run my hands across smooth skin and anything red gave me a mini heart attack.

“Are you finally awake?” Emma’s voice came roaring down the hallway from where she was probably parked on the couch with Regina’s Pizza.

Hair falling straight down my back from an off center part I began taking off my uniform and tossing it in the hamper. “I’m awake. Please tell me that you ordered in.”

I slipped into my red shorts and Rask shirt that had become my recent pajamas and hurried down the hall to try and grab a slice before she shoved the last one down her throat. If I was starting my day at a normal time it wouldn’t be my outfit of choice to show that I was putting my best self forward. Though starting my day at ten o’clock with sleep staring me down within the next two hours made it acceptable in my mind.

“Don’t even think about it,” I growled at Emma as her hand flew towards the final two slices of cheese pizza sitting in the large box. Her eyes darted between the box and me, reminiscent of old action movies with two robbers caught in the same room after the same prize.

If I had been in the same situation with anyone else it might have been the beginning of World War Three, but, as our usual interactions over pizza went, she didn’t respond, I turned the box towards my seat on the couch and we dove into casual conversation.

----- Jonathan Toews

The scene in front of me made me a little sick.

I was also pretty jealous.

After the game Patrick speed stripped, showered and dressed with strangers and teammates alike wandering past like he was home alone. The whirlwind that he became then moved onto his post-game interview where he barely took a breath as he spit out responses. To top it all off he also made sure to drag me behind him as he went through it all. While I loved the fact that he wanted to go see Mandy and, more importantly, get me Grace’s number there was something about standing behind him as they sang his praises over singlehandedly carrying the team that made me uncomfortable. No one other than Coach had said to my face that I had recently been useless, but I knew how to use a computer and the things that I probably needed to hear even if it hurt weren’t hard to find.

Some of what I read was probably written by my teammates.

However, with the prospect of getting to call Grace with a complete number I followed his lead and it led me to a no name bar in Tampa, waiting awkwardly as I had five years before while he hit it off with some girl. The same girl.

At least she tried to be friendly, “Hey Jonathan.” I could hear pity laced in with her party host voice. “Great game tonight, right?”

I hoped that my tight lipped smile passed as ‘Captain Serious’ rather than ‘What the actual fuck’, “Yeah, Patrick never disappoints. Now about that phone number?” There was no way that after that horrible pass at smalltalk I was going to stand around and listen to them. If Patrick was into that loose lip kind of talk it was for him to deal with, not me.

“Oh yea,” she extended her hand for my phone and began typing, “You know she felt horrible afterwards. I tried to tell her that she couldn’t have put her number in wrong, but it was a lesser of two evils kind of situation. Either she fucked up or you didn’t care.”

I really hoped that she meant for that little bit of knowledge to be somewhat useful or reassuring for her own sake as a human being.

Patrick obviously felt the same and herded her and some girl that had been standing nearby to a booth. He tossed an apologetic and confused look back at me, yet it was hard for me to believe that he understood what had just happened enough to know what he was giving it to me for.

Outside nighttime had finally settled on sunny Florida. Without the sun beating down on the city it would have felt 20 degrees cooler, but the humidity didn’t get the memo about getting the fuck out and beads of sweat lined my brow as I stood beside the bouncer in a full suit. Looking over him not a single piece of clothing was damp, and his bald head was as matte as when he must have dried it that morning.

My mouth must have fallen open in amazement.

Without asking me a single question he motioned back inside, “First left, down the stairs, third door on the right. It’s air conditioned, dry and quiet.”

He could have been sending me to my death and I would have accepted it. Anything to feel like I wasn’t swimming through the air and to be able to tell if I was sweaty because it was hot or because I was nervous.

Nervous.

That was definitely it.

Sitting on the dark wood vintage sofa listening to the phone ring the dark room reminded me why I lived in an open, modern apartment. The classic styled bar’s theme was matched perfectly with a blend of dark earthy tones and storied wood. If I was somewhere up north it might’ve made me feel cozy and safe, but in the Sunshine State it was a bit suffocating and out of place. The only familiar sight in any bar was the rings left from many a drink patterning the coffee table in front of me, each having a story to tell about another sorry soul just trying to make it through the night.
I didn’t have a drink in my hand to put on the table though, so I was off to a pretty good start.

“Hello?”

Damn I wish I had a drink.

“Hello.”

She breathed silently, but she must have taken a pretty deep breath for her voice to be so controlled. “Who is this?”

Unlike her I was having a bit more trouble and let my body collapse so I was sprawled over the three cushions, “This is Jonathan Toews. You only gave me part of your number the last time we met.”

A halfhearted laugh followed from who I was pretty sure was me. That meant Grace hadn’t made a sound and I understood how Amanda’s comment earlier had come across so strangely. When it left my mouth it seemed like a funny story to tell, but Grace not responding made it evident that she didn’t feel the same way.

“Grace?” I tried listening for her breathing or any noise at all. Had she fainted? “Sorry, bad story to tell. It sucked enough the first time around not having you answer. Can you say something?”

“I,” it sounded like her breath caught in her throat, like when my mom got emotional watching movies, “I’m not sure what you want me to say. Hi? I guess Amanda found you guys.”

My legs flopped out from where I had been holding them close to my body as I turtled. “It was hard to miss her, front row and all.”

“What?” I recoiled from the burst of sound that exploded out of the receiver, “Front row like by the glass? Damn it!”

In the background something either slammed or it was an echo of her initial outburst. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but yeah. I heard that it was your seat for the taking too. What happened?”

“People got sick, holes needed to be filled and once in a lifetime opportunities came up.” She sounded so nonchalant, but from what I remembered about her the alternate plans she had must have been pretty impressive. I imagined her saving peoples lives in the hospital. Sewing up wounds, pumped blood and yelling ‘clear’ over someone’s still body just before they came alive with a current of 300 volts. Or showing up to work in a high security lab to synthesize a cure to a deadly disease that spread like wildfire through a school.

My imagination racing I decided it would be okay to poke a little fun. See if she was as into this as I was. “Aren’t I a once in a lifetime opportunity too?”

“I fucked up the first time and somehow you found me so, no.” She might have sounded more disinterested this time, but her sharp answer came back less than a second after my question. That meant she was sick of me, or feeling the same way I was.

“What’re you after anyways?” she posed the intimate question moments after telling me I wasn’t special, so she was comfortable. Good start. “I’m not like Amanda, so you’re going to have to be a little more blunt with me.”

That was a good question.

I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

It wasn’t like I had written out what was going to happen like a script.

Sure, I had thought about how this conversation would go, but it usually involved us being face to face at some point. Me catching her before she left Chicago five years ago, or her showing up like Amanda had for Patrick. Then we exchanged a few words and fell in love. Cue the end of the PG story that could pass as the next teen romance novel and graduate to the R, NR and XXX stuff.

I couldn’t possibly tell her that though.

“I want to see you. Face to face.”

Not a lie.

“That sounds like a good place to start. However,” I could sense the bad news in her voice before she began the second sentence, ”I got a new job and I have no idea what my new hours are going to be like. To be perfectly honest I’m not even sure what I’m going to be doing at my new job, so that means that you’ll just have to visit me.”

“Sounds reasonable enough, where do you live?” Out of all the horrible things that she could have said, it wasn’t the biggest obstacle she could have dropped in front of me. As a hockey player time was pretty valuable during the season, but at my level money was never had to come by and distance was a joke people told to initiate conversations about their most recent vacation.

Her voice sounded airier, like she had put me on speaker or become bored. “Boston, and it looks like you’ll be here in three days.”

A Bostonian. Now that I knew where she was from her accent stood out to a point where it was identifiable, but did not repel me. Normally I wouldn’t date a fan of a different hockey team. If anything that ideal girl that players chased were the models that could appreciate our bodies and money while ignoring our business outside of charity events and the finals. Sweet girls with rocking bodies, even if they didn’t have much in common with us. That was just a preference though, and the known rule was not to date within the division. I was pretty sure that the fans held that rule in pretty high respect too.

Last time I checked the Bruins were even a different conference, so how bad could it ever get?

If you didn’t count the Stanley Cup that was.

“Right?”

Her smooth voice broke through my thoughts as she brought me back to beside her face. Does she look the same? I grabbed my face and rubbed my cheeks, trying to remember what I saw staring back at me the last time I used a mirror. Did I look the same for that matter?

“Exactly, the second game in two nights. The Bruins better capitalize on the opportunity to beat us for once when it actually matters.”

As soon as I said it I knew that I had crossed the line of flirting into a dangerous place. I didn’t know much about Grace, but being from Boston and coming off as a hockey fan I should have known that she’d be passionate. Maybe even a little crazy.

I braced for a bitch fit, but all I got was hysterical laughter, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just bring up 2013 and just say that for the team allowing more goals you talk a big game. On that note, I’m going to go to bed. Enjoy your night out.”

Shit.

She was giving me the clipped answers of a girl offended.

“Wait, hold on a second. I’m sorry.” I was already apologizing and it was our second conversation. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It just kind of slipped out and things have been really tense around here.”

Again I waited for the bitch fit, but it almost sounded like she wanted to laugh once more for good measure, “Okay, sorry to hear that.” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or genuine. “When you arrive in Boston give me a call and maybe we can figure out a way to release the tension or something, but I’m really tired right now. I had a long day and my sleep schedule is kind of fucked, so I need to fix it if I want to function at my new job. That makes right now bedtime. Good night and I honestly hope that you can enjoy yourself tonight.”

I didn’t realize that she hung up until the line started beeping to tell me it was dead. All I could think about was her saying that we would find a way to release the tension. Usually I had to pull Patrick’s head out of his crotch and into the real world, but in this moment it was me and the empty room.

She did tell me to enjoy myself tonight.

Notes

It's been a while huh? All I can say is sorry, I've been singing in Europe.

Singing >>> writing

I'm home now though so general life <<< writing sometimes and other times I live in the real world and it flip flops. I hope that you'll see that mentality reflected here.

Anyways, things are getting interesting, but I'm not sure how I feel about tackling Kane and girls. That is a debatable subject.

Enjoy, and it was really sweet to come back from no wifi to comments. Even though I bet at least one of you wanted to punch me.