Welcome To Detroit City
Luke Schenn
Bridgit
Work dragged the next day. I was running on only a few hours of sleep and was taking shots of caffeine every half hour. My fellow nurses were edgy around me, not bringing up Emily at all. They didn’t mention that another sick child was being moved to Emily’s room today, but I knew. I watched as they wheeled the little boy in the room. He was young, maybe four or five. Way too young.
After a long ten hour shift, I finally arrived back at my apartment. After putting a microwave meal in the microwave, I started to get ready for the game tonight. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a Toronto jersey one of my brothers had bought me for Christmas last year, and a pair of jeans. I put on a coat of mascara and smoothing serum into my hair and decided to let it curl naturally.
Making my way back into the kitchen, I grabbed my microwave meal and a fork and plopped down in front of the TV to watch some good old reality television. After watching an episode of a family with nineteen children, I grabbed my bag from the coat rack by the front door and slipped on a pair of converse before leaving the apartment.
Cory had texted me last night telling me that he would leave a ticket for me in the box office, so when I arrived at the arena and found a parking spot, I got in line at the office. After waiting my fair share, I finally made it to the teller. I told her my name and she pulled out an envelope from the top drawer of her desk.
She pulled out the lone ticket and checked it over before smirking at me, “Looks like you’re right behind the home bench, sweetheart.” She handed me a map of the arena and sent me on my way.
Walking into the Joe Louis Arena was like coming home, having practically lived in arenas when I was younger. I bought a bag of popcorn, as my microwaved meal just hadn’t quenched my appetite, and found my seat behind the bench, the only white and blue jersey in a sea of red. Almost as soon as I sat down, the players started to come out. The music blared as the teams skated around and started drills.
I munched on my popcorn as I watched the teams warm up. I zoomed in on Cory, now knowing what number and position he played thanks to a quick search on Google. He was leaning on his stick, talking to a teammate when he looked up and met my eyes. His face lit up in a big grin that I could see from across the rink and he gave me a wave, which I shyly returned. Soon, it was Cory’s turn to take a drill and as he was passed the puck, he looked up and gave me a wink before burying the puck top shelf. Show off.
The game passed relatively quickly, with the Wings coming out on top with a 4-1 victory. I took my time getting out of the arena, as I knew it would take Cory at least a half hour before he was out of the dressing rooms and through the press. He had texted me earlier telling me to meet him at a local sports bar and to save us a booth.
I pulled up to the bar and after finding a parking spot, headed inside. The bar was busy to say the least. Patrons were crowded around the bar, watching the highlights on the flat screen TVs. I managed to spot an open booth and after buying a beer, I sat down to wait.
I was watching an after game interview with Cory on the flat screen by the booth, when a hand touched my shoulder, encompassing the entire surface. I jumped and spun around to see a freshly showered Cory Emmerton, although his hair still had that tousled look.
“Hey, good game tonight!” I greeted with a smile, watching as he took off his coat, revealing a tight grey cardigan that seemed to cling to every one of his muscles. I averted my eyes to my beer when he looked up at me as he slid into the booth opposite me. When he didn’t answer, I looked up to see him staring at me. “What?”
Cory shook his head at me. “I cannot believe that you showed up to a Detroit game wearing a leafs jersey. Especially since a Detroit player got you that ticket!” He grinned incredulously. “If you didn’t have a Detroit jersey, you could’ve told me. I would’ve lent you one! There was no need to wear that…thatfilth!”
“Filth? I happen to like the Toronto Maple Leafs, thank you very much. I’m a huge fan of Luke Schenn,” I said, with a mocking wink.
Cory scoffed as ran a hand through his brown hair. “Oh right. You just like him because you think he’s haaanddsooomee.”
I laughed and held up my hands in surrender. “Hey, you said it, not me!”
“I guess you got me there.” He looked down at his watch. “Do you want to go somewhere more private, to eat and talk? I’d rather not do it in a pub full of drunks.”
“Sure. That sounds a lot more appropriate,” I replied, finishing my beer and then getting up and grabbing my purse. The forward got up as well and put on his coat. I asked, “Where are we going?”
He held out his hand to me, and smiled as I took it. “My place.”
Work dragged the next day. I was running on only a few hours of sleep and was taking shots of caffeine every half hour. My fellow nurses were edgy around me, not bringing up Emily at all. They didn’t mention that another sick child was being moved to Emily’s room today, but I knew. I watched as they wheeled the little boy in the room. He was young, maybe four or five. Way too young.
After a long ten hour shift, I finally arrived back at my apartment. After putting a microwave meal in the microwave, I started to get ready for the game tonight. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a Toronto jersey one of my brothers had bought me for Christmas last year, and a pair of jeans. I put on a coat of mascara and smoothing serum into my hair and decided to let it curl naturally.
Making my way back into the kitchen, I grabbed my microwave meal and a fork and plopped down in front of the TV to watch some good old reality television. After watching an episode of a family with nineteen children, I grabbed my bag from the coat rack by the front door and slipped on a pair of converse before leaving the apartment.
Cory had texted me last night telling me that he would leave a ticket for me in the box office, so when I arrived at the arena and found a parking spot, I got in line at the office. After waiting my fair share, I finally made it to the teller. I told her my name and she pulled out an envelope from the top drawer of her desk.
She pulled out the lone ticket and checked it over before smirking at me, “Looks like you’re right behind the home bench, sweetheart.” She handed me a map of the arena and sent me on my way.
Walking into the Joe Louis Arena was like coming home, having practically lived in arenas when I was younger. I bought a bag of popcorn, as my microwaved meal just hadn’t quenched my appetite, and found my seat behind the bench, the only white and blue jersey in a sea of red. Almost as soon as I sat down, the players started to come out. The music blared as the teams skated around and started drills.
I munched on my popcorn as I watched the teams warm up. I zoomed in on Cory, now knowing what number and position he played thanks to a quick search on Google. He was leaning on his stick, talking to a teammate when he looked up and met my eyes. His face lit up in a big grin that I could see from across the rink and he gave me a wave, which I shyly returned. Soon, it was Cory’s turn to take a drill and as he was passed the puck, he looked up and gave me a wink before burying the puck top shelf. Show off.
The game passed relatively quickly, with the Wings coming out on top with a 4-1 victory. I took my time getting out of the arena, as I knew it would take Cory at least a half hour before he was out of the dressing rooms and through the press. He had texted me earlier telling me to meet him at a local sports bar and to save us a booth.
I pulled up to the bar and after finding a parking spot, headed inside. The bar was busy to say the least. Patrons were crowded around the bar, watching the highlights on the flat screen TVs. I managed to spot an open booth and after buying a beer, I sat down to wait.
I was watching an after game interview with Cory on the flat screen by the booth, when a hand touched my shoulder, encompassing the entire surface. I jumped and spun around to see a freshly showered Cory Emmerton, although his hair still had that tousled look.
“Hey, good game tonight!” I greeted with a smile, watching as he took off his coat, revealing a tight grey cardigan that seemed to cling to every one of his muscles. I averted my eyes to my beer when he looked up at me as he slid into the booth opposite me. When he didn’t answer, I looked up to see him staring at me. “What?”
Cory shook his head at me. “I cannot believe that you showed up to a Detroit game wearing a leafs jersey. Especially since a Detroit player got you that ticket!” He grinned incredulously. “If you didn’t have a Detroit jersey, you could’ve told me. I would’ve lent you one! There was no need to wear that…thatfilth!”
“Filth? I happen to like the Toronto Maple Leafs, thank you very much. I’m a huge fan of Luke Schenn,” I said, with a mocking wink.
Cory scoffed as ran a hand through his brown hair. “Oh right. You just like him because you think he’s haaanddsooomee.”
I laughed and held up my hands in surrender. “Hey, you said it, not me!”
“I guess you got me there.” He looked down at his watch. “Do you want to go somewhere more private, to eat and talk? I’d rather not do it in a pub full of drunks.”
“Sure. That sounds a lot more appropriate,” I replied, finishing my beer and then getting up and grabbing my purse. The forward got up as well and put on his coat. I asked, “Where are we going?”
He held out his hand to me, and smiled as I took it. “My place.”
3/11/13