Game Face, page 5
Better.
Not enough.
* * *
Could any text be enough
to tell Ty I’d give anything
everything
to fix this
to erase the fight
if it’s my fault
and even
if it’s not.
* * *
Third time’s the charm
right?
* * *
I’m sorry
* * *
Just put down
the phone, Jonah.
Tossing & Turning
I’m tired
so tired but my mind
won’t shut off, won’t leave
me alone so I can sleep, keeps
firing messages that hit me
like cross-checks.
* * *
What if Ty’s not okay?
* * *
What if he doesn’t
get better?
* * *
What if he gets better but
letting in that goal ruined
everything so Ty
will never get picked
for the rep team, his dream
is destroyed, our friendship
is over
because of me?
* * *
Who’ll be my partner
for group projects
and play Xbox hockey
with me and keep
my secret?
* * *
Who’ll take my big-league
hopes and dreams as seriously as I do
even if becoming a goalie
was the most ridiculous
thing I ever decided
to do and if I’d never done it
my best friend would be okay now?
But I did, and now Ty’s
not okay and might never be
okay again.
Next Morning
When the doorbell rings
I can’t bring myself to open
my eyes — hide under
my covers, ignore the light
shining through the crack
in my curtains because it can’t possibly
be morning.
* * *
I barely slept, never did manage
to quiet my mind. It was like
a tiny alien creature invaded
my brain, took over
the controls. Even though
I tried telling myself
everything would be fine
the alien kept sending his own
it’s-not-fine messages
practically all
night
long.
* * *
The bell rings again.
* * *
I drag myself out of bed
step into the hallway
and into the sound
of Dad’s snoring coming
from his room
pull on a sweatshirt
as I go.
* * *
A whoosh of cold air hits
my bare toes
as I swing open the front door
find Rose standing there
— Rose, from next door
Rose, from school
Rose, who has never before
set foot on my front steps.
* * *
What are you doing here? I say
which I admit isn’t the most polite
way to greet someone
but give me a break
— I just woke up after one of the worst
nights of my life.
* * *
Good morning to you, too, she says.
I brought you some toast.
* * *
She extends a plate
stacked high.
* * *
Um … why?
I heard about Ty, she says. I figured
you’d be upset. My mom
always takes cassava cake
when people are upset.
She shrugs
with one shoulder.
I didn’t think
you’d want cake
for breakfast. Therefore
* * *
toast.
* * *
Two years ago, after the accident
all sorts of people came by with food
— meals I didn’t have any
appetite for — but Mrs. Garcia
brought cassava cake.
* * *
Mostly the only thing I remember
from those first days
was the way
my dad got up each morning
made coffee
said thank you to people
who came by
the whole time looking
like he wanted to scream.
But I also remember
cassava cake.
* * *
Cake would’ve been all right, I say.
Triangle
Rose stands there with the plate
waits
so I take it. She doesn’t leave.
* * *
You want to come in?
* * *
Thank you, she says
pulling off her boots and trailing
behind me to the kitchen.
Do you have any jam?
* * *
We climb onto stools
sit at the island
eat triangles of toast
with raspberry jam
don’t say much of anything
at all. It’s weird
but also maybe a little nice.
* * *
After a while I get up
pour two glasses of orange juice
pass one to Rose.
* * *
She thanks me, then says
I understand, you know.
I figure she’s talking about
my best friend
being stuck in hospital
and me being stuck wondering
if I’m the reason he’s in there
and how can she possibly
understand that?
* * *
I take a big swig
then swirl the OJ in my glass
watch it climb up the sides
like it wants to
escape.
* * *
This juice gets it.
This juice understands me
better than Rose ever could.
* * *
Rose brushes crumbs from her hands
hops off the stool
sets our dishes
in the sink.
* * *
I should probably say something
at least thank her
for the toast
but a heavy door closes
inside me. Before I can free
any words, Rose says
I hope he’s okay.
* * *
And then she’s gone.
Should’ve Been
My phone dings
with an incoming text.
I grab it off the couch
— a response to the pathetic
messages I sent Ty
last night.
* * *
I’m hit with a wave
of thank goodness
of I’m so glad you’re alright
of holy hospitals, Batman
you had me freaked out.
But a second later
the wave rushes back
to wherever it came from
leaving me cold
and wrung out
because the text
is not from Ty.
hey, it’s Lewis
Ty’s still in the ICU
Lewis is Ty’s brother.
He’s fifteen
and never talks to me and Ty
when we’re over there
playing NHL on the Xbox.
My thumbs tap out a question
* * *
— Is he ok?
Don’t hit send
backspace
erase
stare
at the blank spot waiting
for my response.
If he’s in the ICU it’s clear
he’s not okay
not yet.
Is he going to be ok?
Delete delete delete.
If the answer is no
I don’t want to ask the question.
how is he?
awake but pretty out of it
After another minute
of staring at my phone
I text again.
thanks
for replying, I mean
no prob
saw your message when I got
here this morning. one of the guys
on your team dropped off Ty’s
phone and jacket and stuff
not that he needs any of it right now
* * *
One of the guys.
Should’ve been me.
I should’ve been there
should’ve looked after Ty’s things
should’ve gone to the hospital even though
I wouldn’t have been able
to see him.
* * *
Should’ve.
* * *
Didn’t.
* * *
What kind of friend am I?
Monday
Rose stands
on my doorstep
again.
* * *
No toast today? I ask
meaning to tease
but it comes out dull
as if my voice has no energy
just like the rest of me.
* * *
I could make some, she says.
If you want.
* * *
I was kidding.
* * *
So was I.
* * *
A smile twitches at one corner
of my mouth
disappears
before it turns into anything.
I was just wondering
if you’re going to school, Rose says.
I could pick up your work for you
if you’re not.
* * *
Last thing I feel like doing
is facing everyone at school
but Dad insisted I go
said routine
was important, said getting
behind in class
wouldn’t be any help to Ty.
* * *
You wouldn’t go, I told him
last night, if it was you.
* * *
You
who landed your best friend
in the Intensive Care Unit.
* * *
You
who wrecked
everything.
* * *
It’s true — he wouldn’t go
if it were him.
* * *
Don’t turn this on me, Dad said.
* * *
You’re going to school.
* * *
This is going to be
the worst Monday
of my life.
Bubble
Rose sits beside me on the bus
in the spot I normally share
with Ty.
She hums a song that’s vaguely
familiar.
* * *
Not many kids from
our homeroom ride
this bus, but I’m still surprised
nobody asks
about Ty. Coach emailed
all the team parents yesterday
— said Ty was awake
but still in the ICU
which I already knew
from Lewis.
You’d think the news
would’ve traveled
faster than Connor McDavid
on a breakaway
* * *
but maybe not.
Maybe no one outside our team
has heard.
* * *
But then how …
Rose, I say, and she stops
humming and looks at me.
How’d you know about Ty?
* * *
Cole’s parents go to the same
church as my mom. They were
at Mass on Saturday night
when Cole phoned to get picked up
after they ended the game
early. Mom said their phone rang
right in the middle
of the Our Father.
* * *
Cole and Bennett are the only
other guys from the team
who are in our homeroom.
Maybe they’ve told everyone
and there won’t be any questions
after all. Maybe I’ll be able
to slip into class
unnoticed.
* * *
The bus arrives at school
door opens, and we all step outside
join the river
of students flowing
toward the main entrance.
* * *
Rose dodges around a kid
crouched in the middle of the hall
tying his shoe.
* * *
As she again falls into step
beside me, the same familiar tune
fills the space between us.
And still, no one presses in
with questions about Ty
about the fight
about what really
happened.
Not a single person stops me
to dig for details.
It’s as if Rose’s humming
has wrapped us both
in a bubble of calm
and quiet.
* * *
The moment
we walk into Mrs. Darroch’s room
the bubble
bursts.
Swarm
The kids in my class
swarm around me — bees hungry
for some sweet gossip.
Spin
Game Face
Mrs. Darroch’s voice
breaks in
kids drift away
take their seats
and the buzz
fades.
* * *
I glance at Cole on the other side
of the class, wish for a moment
they’d surround him instead
ask him instead. But Cole doesn’t know
the whole story.
* * *
He didn’t find Ty
on the floor, didn’t see Rob
working on him, didn’t feel
the walls closing in
the air
vanishing.
* * *
I sink into my chair
stare at my desk.
My eyes sting.
I blink, try to pull myself
together
need
to get out of here.
* * *
I raise my hand
lift my chin
catch Mrs. Darroch’s attention.
Bathroom.
I only mouth the word
but she understands
and nods at me.
* * *
I slip out of the room
make my way
to the boys’ washroom.
It’s deserted.
* * *
Deep breath in
and out
peer into the mirror
pale skin now flushed pink
press fists against my eyes
until they quit leaking
bend forward over the sink
and rinse my face
with cold water.
* * *
I grab a paper towel
look again
at my reflection
ready to paste on
my game face
* * *
my I got this face
my everything is fine face
* * *
before heading back to class.
