“Hey! Lane! How you doin’?”
They turned to face Bob, the head referee. He had a big smile on his Marine recruiting poster face and a brand new haircut.
“I’m Bob.” He held out his hand to Arthur. “Nice shiners.”
“I’m Arthur and this is my sister, Martha,” Arthur said.
“Nice scarf,” Bob said to Martha before turning to Lane. “Heard you’ve had some fan problems lately and you handled ’em. We’re getting calls from people who say they like your work. Never happened before. Then there’s the asshole, Mac, who called to complain that he got arrested. But, then everybody in hockey knows he’s an asshole!” Bob slapped Arthur on the back.
Arthur’s eyes reflected a mixture of amusement and shock.
“We’d better get changed,” Lane said.
“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll keep Lane safe!” Bob winked at Martha.
Lane thought, It’s going to be a long night.
Bob talked all the way down the hall, during the time it took to change, and while he skated behind Lane as they circled the ice. Bob just wouldn’t shut up.
“We’re buddies,” Bob said several times.
Lane decided there was a hell, and maybe Martha was right afterall. If Bob didn’t shut up, Lane decided, he was either going to have to find religion, or dismember the head referee.
Bob didn’t let up through the first fifty-nine minutes of the game. “Amazing, simply amazing. That nephew of yours is amazing. Sure knows how to protect a one-goal lead. Only a minute left, and he’s keepin’ his team in the game. Listen to the crowd.” The parents were chanting while the teams changed lines for perhaps the last time. The face-off was in the opposing end.
The centres cruised over and took their positions.
Lane stood between them. He looked around to make sure the wingers and defencemen were properly aligned.
“OFFENCE!” the parents at one end of the stands roared.
“DEFENCE!” the parents at Arthur and Martha’s end roared.
Lane dropped the puck.
The centre poked the puck between the legs of Matt’s centre.
Matt’s defencemen turned to intercept the opposing centre, who accelerated down the ice. The centre squirted between the defencemen. There was nothing but open ice between him and Matt.
“BREAKAWAY!” a fan yelled.
Lane skated down the left side, a stride behind the centre. He glanced down the ice. Matt had his goalie stick hitched up awkwardly in his right hand. His glove hand opened and closed.
The centre deeked right and went left.
Matt tried to follow. He lost and regained his balance. The centre shot high for the open top-half of the net.
Matt’s glove hand rose up. His elbow worked like a cog with a few teeth missing. The glove jerked up.
The centre raised his hands, certain the puck was going in.
Matt’s glove plucked the puck out of the air.
The crowd roared.
Bob blew his whistle and waved his arms to indicate no goal.
Matt fell over.
Lane leaned over to take the puck from Matt’s glove.
“Nice save,” Lane said.
“Thanks, Uncle.” Matt’s invisible grin seemed to stretch the width of his face mask.
They drove home with the windows open. Lane and Matt were sitting in the back seat. Lane was sure he smelled better than Matt who smiled, elbowed Lane, and said, “Uncle, you stink.”
Lane felt a momentary, unfamiliar glow of acceptance. He found himself grinning all the way home.
Saturday, October 31
Chapter 23
TONY REACHED FOR the phone. His voice was thick with sleep when he said, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Jay said.
“You okay, man?” Tony asked.
“Yep,” Jay said.
“Cole okay?” Tony asked.
“He finally fell asleep. Figure I’ve got a little bit of time before the nightmares start,” Jay said.
“Man, what time is it?” Tony covered his eyes as his mother opened his bedroom door and turned on the light. He put the receiver on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, mom, it’s Jay.”
She frowned and closed the door, leaving the light on.
Jay said, “It’s three o’clock. Look, I need Rosie’s number.”
“Man, you’re crazy if you call her now, she’ll-”
“I need to talk with her,” Jay said.
“If I give you the number, will you wait seven hours? I mean she’s really grumpy in the morning.”
“Okay,” Jay said.
Tony gave him the number.
“Thanks,” Jay said.
Tony said, “You and Cole are all over the news. My mom watches it all the time. You’re a star.”
“Tell me about it. Cole’s like a zombie sitting in front of the TV. If we shut off the TV, it’s worse. Then, he does this nonstop talking routine. It’s scary. We can’t get outta here. It’s drivin’ me crazy,” Jay said.
“At least Bobbie can’t get at you there.”
Jay laughed. “We’re prisoners and she’s free. Go figure. Shit!” Jay said.
“What’s the matter, man?” Tony heard the wail of a child in pain.
“Kaylie!” Cole said. “Why can’t Kaylie ride up here with me?”
“Gotta go, man. Cole’s havin’ a nightmare.” Jay hung up.
Jay made it to Cole’s room about three steps ahead of the police officer, Andrea.
“Kaylie!” Cole said.
Cole’s voice crawled up Jay’s spine and sparked a memory. The image of his parents, and their closed coffins. His sister crying and smiling at him behind her handkerchief. A smile only Jay was meant to see.
Jay lifted Cole to a sitting position. The back of the child’s T-shirt was wet with perspiration. “Cole, it’s me, Jay.”
“Uncle Jay?” Cole asked without opening his eyes.
“It’s me, Cole. I’m here,” Jay said.
Cole opened one eye, blinking at the light.
“Kaylie?”
“She died, Cole,” Jay said.
Cole sobbed, shivered, and wept for a solid halfhour until falling asleep.
Andrea sat there, waiting, without saying a word.
Jay covered Cole.
“You need some sleep?” Andrea asked.
“Maybe later.” Cole’s nightmare had left Jay wide awake and energized by an adrenaline rush.
Andrea sat down in the front-room chair and swivelled it so she could face Jay. “Loraine said she’d be here again in the morning.”
“Can we call her when Cole gets up? He might sleep for a while now,” Jay said.
“I’ll ask.”
“I’m gonna make a phone call.” Jay stood up.
Andrea said, “Absolutely no clues about where we are. And I mean absolutely none.”
“Deal.” Jay sat down at the kitchen table before reaching for the phone on the wall.
The phone rang ten times at the other end before a voice mumbled, “Hello?”
“Rosie?” Jay said.
“Who’s this?”
“Jay. I’m sorry, Rosie, but…” Jay said.
The words at the other end came in a rush of Vietnamese.
Jay didn’t understand the words, but he got the message. “Look, it’s the only time I could call. I’m sorry but I wanted to talk with you.”
“How’s Cole?” Rosie’s tone said all was not forgiven, yet.
“Asleep,” Jay said.
“More nightmares?” Rosie asked.
“And he’s beginning to cry. I think he’s grieving. Or maybe it’s safe to cry now. I don’t know. The front of my T-shirt is soaked.”
“Spilling more than you’re eating?” Rosie began to chuckle.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“Not yet, but keep talking,” Rosie said.
Lane awoke to the sound of someone with the dry heaves.
Arthur breathed deeply next to him.
“I swear, you could sleep through an earthquake,” Lane said. The reply was more snoring.
Lane got up and looked in the open door of the bathroom. Martha was on her knees at the toilet, wiping her mouth with a tissue.