“Which one?” I ask him, and he looks at Justin.
“Name one,” he says. “I scored in all of them.”
“Cocky,” Justin says and then looks at me, but his look is different this time. It’s soft. “Come eat.”
“I’m really not hungry. Dylan can have mine,” I tell them, knowing that there is nothing in the fridge today.
“He already had two,” Justin says, getting up. “Come and sit and eat something.”
I walk over, my pulse picking up as he holds out the chair for me. “Go get dressed,” I tell Dylan, who gets up and walks into the bedroom. Justin walks around the table and sits where Dylan just left. “Do you work today?” he asks, and I look down and then look up at him.
“No, not today,” I say, not ready to admit that I got fired.
“What are you doing today?” he asks. I think of all the errands I have to run, but I just shrug.
“Not much. Just laundry,” I say and take a bite of the sandwich that he brought. The buttery croissant melts in my mouth, and I take a sip of the hot coffee.
“Do you want to drive us to the rink and take the SUV again?” he asks. He leans back in the chair and stretches, his shirt coming up just a touch, giving me a glimpse of his lower abs.
“No,” I say, trying not to look but failing miserably. “I don’t need it.”
“Okay,” he says. “What are your plans this weekend?”
“I have to work,” I say. “Saturday afternoon and Sunday all day.”
“What about after work?”
“I have no idea,” I answer him. “I usually never make plans.”
“Good,” he says, smiling, and I just look at him. “We’ll have a barbecue at my place, and then we can go swimming.”
“Um …” I try to come up with an excuse that sounds good or at least something better than the fact I don’t own a suit. “I don’t know. Why don’t we see how we feel after the day is over?”
“Sounds good,” he says, and then Dylan comes out of the bedroom dressed in his uniform for camp. “Ready, buddy?” Justin gets up, and I follow suit, not sure I’m okay with him taking Dylan without me.
“Give me a hug,” I tell Dylan, who comes over and hugs me around the waist, and I kiss his head. “Have an amazing day.”
“You, too, Mom,” he says, and I lean down to kiss his lips. He walks away from me, and Justin is suddenly at my side.
“Have a good day,” he says, his voice soft. He comes closer, and I don’t breathe. I don’t do anything really; all I know is that my neck starts to get hot, and my heart starts to echo in my ears. His face comes close to mine, and then he leans in and kisses me softly on my cheek. “I’ll call you later,” he whispers, and then he’s gone.
Walking out of the door with Dylan by his side as he asks him questions, Justin closes the door softly behind them. All I can do is stand, my hand flying to my cheek where the soft kiss still lingers. I don’t move until my phone rings, and I walk to it and see it’s Justin.
“Hello.”
“You didn’t lock the door,” he says, and then I hear him slam the door and start the ignition. “Did you lock it now?” I roll my eyes, and before I can say anything, he continues, “Let me hear you lock it now.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I ask, annoyed, then pissed. “I’ve been taking care of me and Dylan …” I don’t finish that sentence either.
“Yeah, and you’ve done a great job of it, but”—his voice goes low—“can you just do this for me, please?” I want to tell him no, that I don’t need to lock the door because I can look after myself, but having someone worry about me is a strange feeling—one I don’t know what to do about—so I walk to the door and turn the knob, locking it.
“There, are you happy?” I ask, not sure if he heard the click or not.
“Very,” he says, and I don’t know why, but I can see him smiling like he is standing right in front of me. The dimple on the left side of his cheek calling for me to reach out and touch it. But before I get ahead of myself, I close my eyes and remind myself there is no time, and Justin definitely doesn’t need me in his life. “I’ll call you later.”
Putting the phone down, I get my stuff together. An hour later, I’m walking out of the apartment and making my way toward the church. I pull open the big brown door, and the incense hits me right away along with the silence and the instant peace that I always feel here. I walk down the aisles with wooden pews on each side. The church has seen better days—some of the ceiling paint is peeling and the stained glass colors are fading. I walk past the altar to the side where an open door leads you to two bathrooms and the stairs going to the basement.
I walk down the stairs and see that a light is on. Peeking my head in, I see Father Rolly placing papers on the chairs that are set up in a circle. “Knock, knock,” I say, and he looks up, his white hair falling onto his forehead and his face lighting up with a smile.
“Caroline,” he says and gestures for me to enter the room.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Father.” I smile at him and look around. “I was looking for Murielle.” Gesturing to her office, I see the door is open, but she isn’t behind her desk.
“She isn’t here,” he says and then sits down in one of the steel chairs. “She had to move to Vancouver to take care of her ailing sister,” he says, and my stomach sinks even more. “Did you need something?”
I try to think of something, and I even look down while my heart beats fast and my chest starts to hurt, tears starting to sting at my eyes. “No,” I say, ignoring his question and smiling. “I was …” I can’t even come up with a good excuse.
“You know that you can talk to me, right?” he says, and I drop down on one of the chairs. “You’ve been coming to us for the past four years, and I know she’s helped you when times are tough.”
I put my hand to my mouth to try to stop the tears from coming, but no matter how much I fight it, they just pour out. “I lost my job.” The worry comes over his face. “I’m looking for another one,” I say, “but I was hoping she could help me out with some bread, butter, and some milk.” I hold my head high and take a deep inhale. “But it’s okay,” I say, getting up. “We’ll see you Sunday.” I smile. There isn’t much I believe in since my life went downhill, but every single Sunday, we come to service, and every single Sunday, I say the same prayer, hoping that someone, anyone is listening to me.
“Do you have some time to help me?” he says, and I look at him. “We have the AA and NA meetings back here every day. Murielle usually helps me, but I’ve been doing it by myself.”
“Of course,” I say even though I need to get out of here and start looking for a job. “What can I do to help?”
“You can start the coffeepot and then fix the table in the back with white Styrofoam cups. There is a basket of sugar in the kitchen.” He points at the door at the end of the room.
“On it,” I say and walk to the back of the room and into the kitchen. The kitchen looks like it was from the 1970s, and the beat-up round tin coffee machine sits on the corner of the counter. I walk to the counter, taking it off, and then open the top. Luckily, I helped Murielle set up for a barbecue once, and she explained to me how it works. It takes me four minutes to get everything ready, and then I carry it over to the table, plugging it into the wall and waiting for it to do its thing. I walk back into the kitchen and open the cupboards, looking for the cups and some sugar. I get everything that I need out along with some stir sticks. I walk over and start setting up the table as people slowly start arriving. Looking over, I see that Father Rolly is standing by the door talking to someone, and then he looks over at me, pointing.
I stand here and look around the room, noticing some people sitting and waiting for it to start. “Excuse me,” Father Rolly says and then comes to me. “It is just about to start,” he says, smiling. “Luckily, Patricia is going to run the meeting.” I smile at him, and I’m about to ask him if he needs anything else when he holds
out his hand. “Would you come this way please?” He walks toward Murielle’s office and steps in, waiting for me to follow him in, and then closes the door behind me. “Sit, sit,” he says, and I sit in the chair I always sit in when I have to come and ask Murielle to help us out.
He sits in the chair next to me, and I am suddenly nervous. Can one be kicked out of church? Can one be refused entry? “Relax, dear.” He chuckles.
All I can do is wring my hands together. “Easier said than done.”
“You know I always say everything happens for a reason,” he starts, and I just look at him. “Just like you coming in this morning while I was setting up. I was thinking to myself that I really needed to get going and hire someone to take over Murielle’s position.”
“She really did a lot here,” I say, knowing full well she ran the whole church.
“She did, and I know that it’s going to be hard to fill her shoes.” He smiles. “But I think you can do it.”
I look at him shocked, my mouth opening and closing and then doing it again, but nothing comes out. Finally, I whisper, “What?”
“It seems we have been pushed together for a reason,” he says. “I will be here with you every single step of the way, and I’m sure once you get used to it, you’ll be able to do everything with your eyes closed.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I say, along with the tear that slips over my bottom lid.
“You could say yes,” he says, smiling. I just nod my head, afraid if I say anything, a sob will rip through me. “Now to get to the nitty-gritty stuff. It pays sixteen dollars an hour.” My eyes open wider as I think about the extra three dollars I will make per hour. “The hours are very flexible. I know Dylan finishes school during the year, at three, so you can either have him in the after-school program, or you can take off at that time.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I shake my head. “I think the only thing that I have been saying is that I don’t know what to say.” Laughing now, I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand.
“Why don’t we start tomorrow after you drop Dylan off at camp?” he says. I’m so overwhelmed that all I can do is nod.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” I say honestly, and he reaches forward and grabs a tissue that is on the desk and hands it to me. “Thank you.”
“You can repay me by doing the job I know that you’ll be amazing at.” He smiles. “And in the meantime,” he says, getting up and going over to the desk drawer to take out a checkbook, “this is going to be an advance. We can take out twenty dollars a week until it is paid back.” He continues writing and then hands it to me. I look down and see that he wrote a check for two hundred dollars.
“I don’t need this much,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too much.”
“Well, then put some of it away for a rainy day,” he says, and I want to scoff at him. It seems like every day is a rainy day.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have to get things ready for later,” he says. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” I say. “I will be here tomorrow.”
He turns to walk out of the room and closes the door after him. I put my hands on my face, and the tears that I kept at bay start to fall. This time, though, they’re not tears of sadness or despair but tears of happiness. I wipe my eyes, and when I’m finally calmer, I walk out quietly just as the meeting finishes. I smile at some of the people walking out.
I push open the church door, and the sun hits my face, and for the first time in a long time, I look up and smile.
Chapter Eleven
Justin
“You need to skate up the wide more.” I look down at Dylan. “You skate to the middle too much.” He looks at me, his chest heaving after his play. It was a good play with him skating to the middle and then shooting the puck. “It worked this time, but when you go too much down the middle, you can get blocked in by the defense before the puck even hits the goalie. If you skate in the side, the goalie is usually stuck to one side of the post, giving you a big opening on the other side.” He just nods his head, and I know he’ll understand it if he sees it. “Watch Ralph.” I call over to the other side of the ice where Ralph is teaching another play and raise my hand to tell him to come here. He skates over and stops in front of me. “I want to show Dylan how to skate down the side with the puck and not to the middle. Do you think you can play defense?” I joke with him, and he just smirks.
“It’s summer, right?” he asks, skating backward in front of me. “Which means I don’t really have to go easy on you.” He tilts his head to the side, and I look at the bench and see that all the kids are watching this one-on-one.
“You think you can stop me?” I goad him, skating to the middle of the ice and dropping a puck.
“No one is here to tell me to go easy on you.” He winks at me, and I just shake my head. “Golden boy, my ass,” he continues, and I skate around in a circle before skating over to the puck and making the play. I’ve been practicing against Ralph for the past five years. He got drafted to Edmonton the year before me, and when you are number one on the team, they make you train with the number one defenseman, and that is Ralph. His eyes aren’t on the puck; instead, his eyes are on me. Another thing he does better than anyone is read the play. I skate to the right, and the puck hits the blade of my stick. I skate to the left, and my eyes go to Ralph, who skates backward never leaving or moving with me. My hands slide the puck right and left as I make my way down the ice, and I move more to the right. Once I pass the blue line, I pick up speed, and he stops skating and makes me move right to left to see which way he is going to go. His body is now close to mine, and he knows that if he gives me just a touch more space, I’m going to slap in the puck. But he doesn’t; instead, he sticks out his stick and tries to poke check me, giving me just enough room to shoot the puck under his raised hand and into the net. The kids on the bench cheer loudly, making Ralph laugh and then push me away. “You got lucky.”
“No such thing as luck.” I wink at him this time and skate back to the bench as the horn sounds, letting us know it’s time to rotate the groups. “Okay, that’s it for you guys.” I watch them walk off to the changing area and then feel Ralph looking at me while he drinks some water. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just wondering if Justin Stone has finally met his match?” I’ve been asking myself that same question.
I shrug at him. “No fucking clue. The only thing I know is that I can’t walk away.”
“Don’t tell me that the biggest bachelor in hockey is finally going to be taken?” He goads me with the title that I’ve gotten through the years, making me roll my eyes and look away. I skate off the ice and see that it’s lunchtime. Unlacing my skates, I walk outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket to call Caroline. My hands suddenly get clammy. I wait for her to answer, and when she does on the third ring, it sounds like she’s out of breath.
“Hey,” I say softly and then hear traffic in the background.
“Hey,” she says, and it almost sounds like she’s running.
“Where are you?” I ask, going over and sitting on the bench outside the rink.
“I just left the grocery store,” she says, and her breathing doesn’t let down. “I’m on my way home.”
“Are you running home?” I ask and smile, thinking about her. Her green eyes that light up only when she looks at Dylan.
“No.” She laughs, something she doesn’t do often, but something I want her to do more. “I’m walking home. I somehow didn’t think about the walk when I was filling the cart,” she says.
“You’re walking home?” I ask as I sit up, my voice coming out harsher than I mean to.
“Yes,” she says, ignoring my tone. “I thought about taking the bus, but it just made more sense to walk.”
“How far?” I ask, and she lets out a big breath as if my questions are annoying her.
“Did you need something?” she cuts me off and ignores my question.
�
�There are a lot of things I need,” I say. “The first thing is for you to let me in.” I close my eyes when the words tumble out of my mouth.
“Justin.” The way she says my name, it is almost like a breakup. I’m waiting for her to start with the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech.
“God,” I say, wishing I could hang up and start this over again. “I was just calling to check on you and see what you were up to.”
“I went grocery shopping, and now I’m on my way home,” she says. “How is Dylan? Is he okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s fine.”
“Okay, I have to let you go. The bags are slipping out of my hands, and I’m trying not to drop the phone. Gotta go,” she says and hangs up. I look at the phone, and I dial the one person who I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway.
“Grasshopper,” he says, answering the phone, and I laugh.
“Will you ever not call me that?” I ask Matthew, who now laughs.
“Nope.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s up?”
“Does something have to be up to call my big brother?” I say, but even I don’t buy it.
“The last time you called me, you wanted me to break it to Mom that you didn’t want to come home Christmas because the girl you wanted to bag bought a bunny suit.”
“That is not what I said,” I say with a groan. “A bunch of people were going to Colorado to ski.”
“And were you not bringing a girl with you?” he asks, and I don’t answer. “And did she not put bunny ears on?”
“It’s a Snapchat filter,” I say.
“I honestly have no idea what that means,” he says. “And I don’t really want to know. Sounds like some dirty shit.”
I laugh. “I’ll explain it to you again when I see you.”
“I can’t wait,” he says sarcastically. “Now to what pleasure do I owe this phone call?”
“I need to ask you something, and before I do, I need you not to bust my balls about anything,” I say, suddenly regretting my decision to call him.
This Is Forever Page 7
