by Kitty Parker
"I have to go," he finally sighed, pulling me in for a hug.
My heart sank as we embraced. I hadn't told him.
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
Slowly, he pulled back and stared intently at my face, looking as though he were having some kind of severe internal debate. When his expression changed to one of determination, I knew he'd made his decision, though I still had no idea what it was.
All of a sudden, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to mine.
"I love you," he whispered before turning around and quickly following his teammates onto the bus.
Completely shocked, all I could do was wave stupidly as they drove away. As soon as they were out of sight, the full force of Tully's statement hit me and my heart soared. I felt as though I could fly.
"He loves me!" I declared to the cold February evening and a rather frightened-looking group of sophomores walking back from the gym. I spun around in a little circle like a complete idiot.
And I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't care if the people around me thought I was crazy.
Tully loved me, and that was all that mattered.
It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't told him that I reciprocated his feelings. He was probably dying of anxiety over my reaction, and that was sure to screw with his game.
I reached for my phone to call him, but instead let it fall back into my jacket pocket. This needed to be done face to face. But how was I supposed to do that?
* * *
It was Friday afternoon when the answer to my problems occurred to me. I had been quietly munching on some noodles in Trillium and doing the crossword puzzle in the Cornell Daily Sun when inspiration struck. Excited, I checked the time.
One-thirty. Perfect.
Wolfing down the rest of my lunch, I sped out the door and down the street to Uris Hall. Throwing open the door to the stairwell, I charged up three flights to the economics department and ran down the hall to room 321.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I knocked.
"Come in."
I slowly opened the door and poked my head into the office.
Dr. Burry sat at his desk, squinting at the computer screen in front of him as snow drifted past the window. He looked up as I entered.
"Evie Kaiser! It's good to see you. How's your semester been so far?"
"Good, thanks," I replied, shifting awkwardly. "Yours?"
"Also good."
"So, er, you excited for the Harvard game tomorrow?"
A wide smile spilt his face. "You bet. I never miss it."
Yeah, I know, I thought to myself. "Driving down there tomorrow, then?"
He nodded. "Mhm."
Now here comes the awkward part…
"Mind if I come?"
At his questioning glance, I felt the need to explain myself.
"You see, Tully McFadden and I are…er, close, and I, er, want to be there for him… and I really need to talk to him in person as soon as possible. Something… happened, and I'm worried it's going to throw off his game."
Dr. Burry smiled at me knowingly. "I think I get what you mean. Sure, you can come along with me."
My heart leapt. "Really? Oh, thank you so much! I really, really appreciate it!"
His eyes twinkled as he regarded me. I had no doubt that the cogs in his brain were whirring around at fantastic speeds, filling in the blanks of my story. "I'll pick you up from North Campus at eleven tomorrow morning, alright?"
I nodded and headed for the door. "Sure, and thanks again! See you tomorrow."
"Don't be late!" he teased.
"Trust me, I won't."
And I wasn't. I even got there ten minutes early. When Dr. Burry's old black sedan pulled up alongside the curb at Donlon Circle, I eagerly opened the door and hopped in.
"Good morning, Evie," he greeted me.
"Morning," I replied, buckling my seatbelt.
"You ready?"
I nodded, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest as I thought of the alternative meaning those words had for me. "I'm ready."
We pulled out of the circle and began heading for Route 79, chatting pleasantly. He asked me about the classes I was taking and the professors teaching them, once or twice commenting on their habits and quirks.
The topic eventually turned to the worldwide economic crisis that had taken hold since the housing bubble burst. We discussed the various solutions that had been proposed and debated which would potentially work out the best. All in all, it was a fairly normal conversation for a student to have with her economics professor, regardless of the unconventional setting.
It wasn't until we had reached the interstate that Dr. Burry broached the topic that I knew had been on his mind the entire time.
"How long?" he asked.
"How long what?"
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "How long have you been in love with McFadden?"
I was silent for a moment. "Is it that obvious?"
Dr. Burry chuckled. "Believe it or not, I was your age once. I know what it looks like. That and you're wearing his jersey."
I wrapped my arms around my waist, pulling the garment closer to my body. There was no point in denying how I felt. "Since Christmas," I told him. "But it's kind of complicated."
"It's a six hour drive," he pointed out.
"Do you really want the whole story?"
He grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yes, I really do."
I sighed, knowing it was the least I could do for him. He was giving me a ride after all. I mentally prepared myself to narrate the Evie-Tully saga, almost feeling that I should start with "once upon a time."
"Tully and I grew up together," I began. "We've lived next door to each other for our entire lives."
"Ah, the boy next door," Dr. Burry commented. "Classic."
"Sure." I shifted uncomfortably before going on, filling my professor in on the important events of the preceding nineteen years that had led me to my current predicament. I left out some of the more… private details, of course. Dr. Burry didn't need to know about the incident over winter break. Even if he did, I definitely didn't feel like telling him about it.
When I finished, we sat in silence for a good few minutes. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and my eyes widened. It had taken me a full half-hour to get through my story - a half-hour!
"Wow," Dr. Burry finally spoke. "That's really something."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess it is."
A thoughtful look came over his face. "The only advice I can really give you is to go after what you want. Don't back down just because you think you might screw up. You can't score if you never chase after the puck."
I tried but failed to hold in my laughter at the double entendre.
Dr. Burry's eyes widened in realization as he thought back over his words. "That's not exactly what I meant…"
"I know," I reassured him once my giggles had died down. "And I understand what you're saying."
"Good," he replied.
Sensing that the conversation was more or less over, I settled back in my seat, my mind whirring with thoughts of Tully. Telling him how I felt was going to be the most terrifying thing I'd ever done, hands-down. But I needed to do it, both for him and for me. I simply refused to allow our relationship to awkwardly stay in limbo. Tully had put his feelings out on the table, and I owed it to him to do the same.
And, I thought to myself as I began to drift off, I owe it to myself to be happy.
* * *
"Evie." I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. "Evie, we're here."
At those words, my eyes shot open, my nap in the front seat of Dr. Burry's car forgotten.
We were there.
My heart thumped wildly with anticipation as I sat up and climbed out onto the frozen ground of Cambridge, Massachusetts. That's when a terrifying thought occurred to me.
What if my parents had decided to come to the game? After all, we didn't live that far away,
and Tully was like a son to them.
No, I decided firmly. I can't let that stop me.
I was a woman on a mission, and nothing, not even the presence of my parents, could deter me from doing what I had to.
Of course, I hadn't quite worked out the logistics of the situation. How was I supposed to go about doing it? Sneak into the locker room or something?
I shrugged as Dr. Burry and I began walking in the direction of Harvard's hockey rink. I'd figure it out when the time came.
When we entered the arena, I immediately noticed the veritable sea of Cornell fans who'd come. Dr. Burry smiled at the sight.
"Welcome to Lynah East, Evie."
I chuckled at the joke, but it failed to tame the psychotic butterflies flapping about wildly in my stomach.
The two of us made our way over to the largest concentration of red-clad Cornell supporters, who were sitting in the sections surrounding the pep band.
"Elizabeth!" I called to my friend, spotting her among the trombones.
Confused, she turned around to figure out just who was shouting her name in a city of people she didn't know. The look of surprise on her face when she spotted me was priceless. Handing her instrument to the guy next to her, she climbed through the stands to where I was sitting.
Deciding to let me talk to my friend alone, Dr. Burry informed me that he was going to go buy a soda. I was grateful for the privacy.
"Hey!" Elizabeth greeted me excitedly when she reached me. "What're you doing here?"
"I wanted to see Tully. He told me he loved me last night." I couldn't help the huge grin that spread across my face as I imparted the news.
Her eyes widened to the size of ping-pong balls. "SERIOUSLY? Holy crap, that's awesome! What did you say?"
"I didn't get a chance to say anything. He ran onto the hockey team's bus and they left. I feel really bad about it, 'cause it's probably driving him nuts and throwing off his game."
She looked thoughtful. "Hmm, he did miss some shots last night. And he was definitely more of a goon than usual. We lost, you know."
I smacked my forehead. "Now I feel like a complete douchebag."
"Don't," she told me. "It's not like it was all Tully's fault or something."
"I know, but still."
"So, you going to tell him tonight?" she asked excitedly.
My stomach did a flip-flop as I nodded. "I'm not sure when, though. I don't think Schafer would be too happy if I just barged into the locker room right now."
"Probably not," she agreed. "Besides, they're about to come out. The game starts in eight minutes."
Just then, the referees glided onto the ice and did a few laps.
"I need to get back," Elizabeth informed me, giving me a hug and hurrying back to her spot. "Good luck!"
"Thanks!" I called after her.
Dr. Burry returned to his seat, soda in hand. "It's just about that time," he excitedly told me.
Suddenly, the Cornell fans in the arena let out a deafening cry. "LET'S GO RED!"
The band blasted "Davy" as the team skated out, led by the goalie, Ben Scrivens. Dr. Burry sang along and I clapped, keeping my eyes trained on the backs of the players, searching for number twelve. When he stepped onto the ice, I was hit by a wave of excitement and anticipation.
By the end of the night, I would either be the happiest person alive, or I'd be suffering from the worst broken heart the world had ever seen. I could only pray it would be the former.
We went through the usual pre-game motions, cheering for our players and rattling our newspapers at Harvard's, and the teams huddled up by their respective goals for a quick bit of strategizing before the starting lineups skated into their positions.
I watched Tully as he made his way over to the bench to wait anxiously for the first line change. Considering the speed of hockey, it wouldn't be long.
There was a skirmish between Tyler Mugford and his Harvard opponent as the referee dropped the puck in the center of the ice. It scooted out toward Pat Kennedy, who took the opportunity to start zooming down the ice toward Harvard's sieve. His progress was soon impeded by a burly Crimson defender.
After a minute or so, Tully's line jumped into the fray. I sprang to attention as he got the puck and skillfully maneuvered around his opponents before taking a shot. It went just a bit wide and hit the glass with a resounding clang.
Taking advantage of the situation, a Harvard defenseman went after the rebound and sent it down toward the other end of the ice. A forward picked it up but was soon checked into the boards by Keir Ross. I cheered along with the rest of the Cornell fans at the loud thud.
When the third Cornell line took its place on the ice, I immediately mourned the loss of Tully's presence, but I understood that hockey was exhausting and that line changes were an important part of strategy. Still, I missed seeing the object of my affections darting around the ice as though he owned it and it was his one rightful place in the world.
There's nothing sexier than watching a guy doing what he loves and kicking ass at it, I silently mused.
The first period seemed to fly by. Neither team scored, though there were some interesting penalties. As the Cornell players began to skate off the ice toward their locker room, I decided to make my presence known to a certain redhead.
"Tully!" I shouted, putting all of my lung capacity to use.
Seemingly confused, he looked around the arena for the source of the noise.
"Over here!"
His helmet-clad head turned to face me.
I waved excitedly, the fluttering in my stomach going into overdrive.
Though I couldn't see Tully's expression clearly through his face mask, I was fairly certain that he was startled by my presence. At least, that was the impression I got when, still staring at me, he skated right into the boards.
Dr. Burry nearly died laughing.
* * *
"Come on, Red!" I shouted excitedly as Jordan Kary zoomed up the ice with the puck. The crowd watched anxiously as he passed to Mugford, who took a shot.
The referee gave a tweet on his whistle as Harvard's sieve caught the puck.
The atmosphere in the rink was becoming incredibly tense. The second period was drawing to a close and the score was tied at one goal apiece.
Personally, I was practically on the brink of a nervous breakdown. I knew that the moment when I'd tell Tully how I felt was drawing closer, and I could feel my insides doing gymnastics at the thought.
During the stoppage of play, there was a line change. My heart fluttered as Tully took his place on the ice.
The referee dropped the puck and the game resumed. Riley Nash won the faceoff, sliding the puck out to Evan Barlow. As he started skating down toward the goal, Barlow looked around quickly before passing to Tully.
There was a sudden flash of crimson and then…
BAM!
I leapt to my feet as Tully was shoved into the boards head first. My heart raced at the thought that he might have been hurt, but I calmed down when he easily got back to his feet.
Jared Seminoff, however, was not so easily placated. He immediately skated over to the perpetrator, a Harvard defenseman named Tallett, and gave him a good push.
Tallett pushed back, shouting at his opponent.
Before the situation could degenerate into an all-out brawl (Mugford was already skating across the ice looking pretty pissed off), the referees, who had paused the game to call a boarding penalty on Tallett, came over and pulled the feuding players apart. As one of them more or less forced Seminoff back to the bench, another led Tallett to the penalty box. Tallett argued a bit before caving and climbing in, serenaded by a chorus of "Ahhhh, see ya, you goon!" from the section of Cornell fans.
I watched Tully as he skated back to the bench and plopped down next to his teammates. I was still pretty worried about him (it had been a nasty hit), but he seemed to be okay. He took a swig from his water bottle and watched as the Cornell power play started.
My
attention, however, was no longer on the game. Much as I loved hockey, my eyes were glued to the red-headed left wingman on the bench instead of to the puck.
Almost as though he could sense my gaze, Tully turned to look at me during a stoppage of play. Unsure of how to respond due to the weird state of limbo our relationship was in, I smiled nervously.
Dr. Burry watched the exchange with amusement. "Impressive. You got a hockey player to look away from the game. He must really care about you."
"Huh?" I asked, slightly confused (I hadn't really been paying attention to him for obvious reasons).
"I'm just saying that back when I played for Cornell, I'd only ever take my eyes off the game if Sarah was there."
"Who's Sarah?"
His eyes twinkled. "Well, now she's my wife."
TWEET!
Harvard's sieve caught the puck, blocking a shot from Riley Nash. The rest of the power play was similarly unfruitful, and we all groaned in frustration as the Crimson returned to full strength.
Before long, another penalty was called.
"Cornell penalty on number twenty, Evan Barlow," the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "Two minutes for clipping. Time of the penalty, 14:19 in the second period."
I screwed up my face in confusion. "Clipping? What the heck's clipping?"
"Hitting someone below their knees with your body," Dr. Burry explained. "It's a pretty new thing."
I tried to work out the body mechanics of the move in my mind as the Harvard power play started, but I just couldn't get my head around it. To me, it had just looked like Barlow fell and hit some other guy on the way down.
My musings became irrelevant as a loud buzz suddenly filled the rink and the Harvard fans erupted in cheers.
They had scored.
Groaning, I joined in the slow chant led by the pep band. "Let's go Red! Let's go Red! Let's go Red!"
I looked over to the bench. Through his face mask, I could see the expression on Tully's face. He looked kind of like a kid who'd gotten nothing but socks for Christmas - sort of pissed off, but mostly just sad.
My heart clenched. I desperately wanted to go wrap Tully up in my arms and hold him until that nasty frown on his face disappeared. It wasn't possible right then, but I knew that if I didn't get to talk to him soon, I was going to go absolutely insane.
