Hip Check

by Deirdre Martin

  “Well, you know, her uncle’s schedule changes from week to week, which means my schedule does, too.”

  “Uncle Esa.” The disdain in her father’s voice made Michelle bristle.”I saw he got injured Friday night. Can’t say I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not nice to wish injury on someone.”

  “I wasn’t wishing injury on him, Michelle. I was just saying that the fact he’s injured doesn’t make me sad.” Her father narrowed his eyes accusingly. “Why? It makes you sad?”

  “Of course it does, for Nell’s sake,” Michelle replied evenly. “We were at the game when it happened and she completely wigged out.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You should let me and Jamie bring her to an Islanders game one night so she can see how real hockey is played.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” Michelle deadpanned. “She pretends to watch a team that hasn’t been in the playoffs in a decade. You’ll stuff her full of franks until she feels sick and then bring her home to me, where she’ll spend half the night throwing up.”

  “You are her nanny,” her father admonished playfully. “And don’t forget, we had the greatest four-year run in history.”

  “You’re a pip, Dad, seriously.”

  The coffee machine gurgled into action and her dad sat down at the table, covering his mouth as he gave another cough. He looked at Michelle defensively. “Before you even start, allow me to tell you, you never get the smoke out of your lungs. But try telling that to Jamie: every time I so much as clear my throat, he gives me ‘the look’—you know, his ‘Go to the doctor, I’m worried you’re gonna drop dead’ look.”

  “He’s just looking out for you.”

  “I’m sixty-four years old, Michelle. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Plus he’s a goddamn firefighter himself. Just wait until he’s been on a crew for forty-five years. He’s gonna sound the same way.”

  “I know.”

  “If he keeps this up, he’s going to get a swift kick up his ass and two weeks’ notice from me.”

  “Ouch,” Michelle said with a wince.

  “Maybe you could tell him what I said.”

  “Tell him yourself!”

  “He’ll listen if it comes from you.”

  Michelle snorted. “Oh, right. As if he’s ever listened to anything I’ve said.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  “Dad, you know Jamie doesn’t listen to anyone, except his captain.”

  “Well, he better start,” her father warned.

  They made small talk for a while: the weather, her dad’s very active social life, Nell, and eventually Esa. There was no avoiding it: she did work for him. And live with him. And kiss him. Shit.

  “Tell me about the injured Finn,” said her father, dunking a cruller in his mug of coffee. He’d been doing that for as long as Michelle remembered, dunking his crullers. It used to drive her mom nuts, especially when he’d let them break off into the coffee and then when he was done with his drink, he’d spoon out the mush from the bottom of the mug and eat it.

  Michelle sipped her coffee. “What about him?”

  “Is he getting on any better with the kid?”

  “Her name’s Nell, remember? And yes, he’s getting better.”

  “Still bedding those models?”

  A frosty shiver crept up Michelle’s spine. “I wouldn’t know. He certainly doesn’t bring them home, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Big of him.” Her father shook his head disapprovingly. “Those rich, single athletes are all the same: they just want T and A. They don’t even care if the T is real anymore. It’s all about size.”

  “No offense, Dad, but I really don’t want to get into whether my employer can spot a pair of silicone boobs at five hundred feet. And PS, you’re starting to sound like Jamie, who thinks he’s the world expert on everything.”

  “I read. I know what I’m talking about.”

  Michelle put her palms up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, whatever you say.” She knew better than to belabor the point, especially since it could lead directly to her dad going into protective mode, wanting to know if Esa had ever zeroed in on her boobs, which she was pretty sure he hadn’t, because she didn’t have much of a bust to speak of.

  Unfortunately, she was too late: her father was peering at her across the table suspiciously. “He ever give you the eye?”

  Good old Dad, going straight for the jugular today.

  “Do I look like a model to you?”

  “You look better than a model, sweetie. That’s what worries me.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to worry, all right?” Which was true.

  “Well, just remember: if he gives you any problems, Jamie and I can take care of him.”

  “I appreciate that, but trust me, I know how to handle him. Plus I have a feeling I might get fired if my dad and brother roughed up my boss.”

  “Didn’t think of that.”

  “Clearly. Now pass me one of those crullers and fill me in on some neighborhood gossip, because I’m way out of the loop.”

  * * *

  Esa had been worried a week off would cause him to get rusty; that pouring all his concentration into avoiding Michelle, rather than visualizing his ankle healing quickly, would lead to his playing like shit when he hit the ice again. But he was wrong: From the moment the game started, he picked up where he left off. It was as if there was a magnetic attraction between him and the puck. Halfway through the first period, he’d broken a scoreless tie with Philly by deflecting a shot from the point. Though they’d never admit it, he could tell by the fist bumps, as he skated by the bench after scoring, that his teammates were relieved that his injury hadn’t set him back.

  He’d played okay through the second, but in the third period he’d kicked it up a notch. Up by a goal, the Blades were preparing for another nail-biter as a tight checking third period continued. With eight minutes left and Philly a man up and pressing for the equalizer, Esa found himself and Rory out on the ice killing off the penalty. He was starting to love playing shorthanded. He had skated out to press the right point when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Philly’s left defenseman break toward the slot. Taking a step to his left, Esa thrust his stick out at what turned out to be the perfect moment. He broke up the pass and the puck skittered out toward center ice.

  Knowing he had at least a stride on the Philly defense, Esa rushed to pick up the loose puck. Speeding down the left wing, he sensed Rory breaking down the right wing, with a Philly defenseman in close pursuit. When he crossed the blue line, Esa pointedly looked to his right while still managing to keep one eye on the Philly goaltender. Seeing the goalie’s legs subtly move in preparation for shifting to his left, Esa snapped a wrister toward the five hole as he reached the top of the circles. The lamp flashed and the horn blasted.

  22

  “Saari, you Finnish bastard! You can skate, but you can’t hide.”

  Esa’s heart sank as Lou Capesi’s voice thundered behind him as he walked out of the locker room with Rory after the game. Capesi had been on his ass relentlessly lately about Blades’ charity events. He’d done a few his first year and had hated it, especially the auctions in which he had to kiss the highest bidder. There was one woman who created a vacuum seal between their two mouths. If that wasn’t enough, she was like an octopus, her arms like tentacles that wouldn’t let him go. She sure as hell got her money’s worth.

  Rory looked amused as they slowed. “I can guess what this is about.”

  Esa frowned. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the green room.”

  “You’re going to abandon me in my hour of need?”

  “Hey, I don’t want him to rope me into anything! I’ve done more than my fair share!”

  “Yeah, and you love it, you attention whore.”

  “Have fun.”

  Esa gave Rory the finger as his friend passed Lou
with a big, cheery smile before disappearing into the green room. Esa halted, waiting for the team’s rotund head of PR to catch up with him.

  Not surprisingly, Lou was panting slightly. “Good game tonight.”

  “Thanks. What’s up, Lou?”

  “Don’t ‘What’s up, Lou’ me. You know what’s up. It’s time for you to contribute some of your precious off-ice time to doing some PR just like everyone else.”

  “I’m still trying to get all my ducks in a row with Nell,” Esa answered evasively.

  Lou’s face softened. “How’s the kid doin’?”

  “Good. She likes school.” He paused. “She loves the nanny.”

  “Thank God for that. You get along with her?”

  “Yeah. She’s nice and she’s great at her job. I’d still be in way over my head without her.”

  “I was talking about the kid, not the nanny. But it sounds like the nanny’s got your ducks covered.”

  Esa shot Lou a dirty look. “I mean personal stuff.”

  “Yeah right.”

  Esa knew he was trapped. “What do you want me to do?”

  “The Kids on Skates charity event? Where we provide free sticks and skates to kids and you guys give them free lessons? You know about it?”

  “This is my third year on the team. What do you think?”

  “Then you know it’s a great charity. Some of these kids would never get to play hockey otherwise. Players who’ve done it in the past have had fun.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Esa admitted. Rory had participated last year (of course), and Ulfie and the Mitchell twins had been involved since the charity was established six years ago.

  Lou dug into one of the front pockets of his pants, pulling out a handful of salty almonds that he threw into his mouth. “You’re doing it,” he garbled. “End of story.” He reached into his pocket again. “Besides, it’ll reflect favorably on you, if you catch my drift.”

  “Oh, that’s just great.” Esa laughed bitterly. “It’s not enough that I have to prove to them I’m worth signing again. Now I have to show them I’m a humanitarian as well.”

  “All part of the game, my friend.” Lou chomped down on more almonds. “I mean, you and I both know you’re a heartless prick, but management doesn’t have to know that.”

  “Fuck you, Lou.”

  “So it’s pretty much an all-day deal,” Lou continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Ten thirty to four thirty, three sessions. I have to check whether it’s a Saturday or a Sunday—not that it matters, because like I said, you’re doing it.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Esa was getting restless as Lou repeated himself. All he wanted was to get the hell out of here so he could get Rory and they could head out to the Hart to meet everyone else. “I’m not Ulfie,” he told Lou. “I understood you the first time you told me I had no choice.”

  “Just making sure.”

  “Let me know the date as soon as you can so I can talk to the nanny and work out the scheduling.”

  “Does your nanny have a name, Saari?” Lou mocked. “Or do you just call her ‘nanny’?”

  “Michelle. Her name is Michelle.” Esa shifted his gym bag to his other shoulder. “Can we wrap this up now?”

  Lou seemed oblivious to his impatience. Either that, or he was ignoring it. “I’ve got one other charity event that I want you to think about.”

  “What?” Esa asked sharply.

  “The one where women bid on a kiss from you.”

  Esa shook his head vehemently. “No fuckin’ way. I’m never doing that again. I still have nightmares about it.”

  Lou scowled at him. “It brings in a lot of money.”

  “I don’t care. Ask Ulfie to do it. I’d rather break my own legs.”

  “Prima donna asshole,” Lou muttered.

  “What was that?” Esa asked, zipping up his jacket.

  “Nothing. All right, get outta here. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  “Yeah, you, too.”

  Esa started down the hall, leaving Lou behind to scribble furiously on a battered old clipboard that was probably older than Esa was. He resented Lou dropping that little comment about him earning brownie points with management if he did more PR. He knew it was no secret that there wasn’t any movement on them making him an offer yet, but the thought that anything apart from his performance on the ice might be factored in really pissed him off. A thought hit him: maybe Lou was bullshitting him just to get him to do the event, in which case Lou was an even bigger jerk than he thought. No, he liked Lou. All the guys did, even though he was a huge pain in the ass. But that was his job, right?

  He didn’t want to let Lou know, but he would have committed to the charity event anyway, out of a growing sense of awareness where kids and money were concerned. He’d never wanted for anything, and God knows, Nell certainly didn’t. But he knew there were a lot of kids who didn’t have much. If he could make them happy for a day, then it was worth it.

  Jesus, who was the guy thinking these things? Before Nell came to stay, this guy didn’t exist. Then again, before Nell came to stay, a lot of things didn’t exist.

  * * *

  “Ugh, I hate fractions!”

  Frustrated, Nell threw her pencil down on the kitchen table and squeezed her eyes shut, near tears. Michelle couldn’t blame her: she’d hated learning fractions, too. It didn’t help that her third grade teacher, Mrs. Engler, hated teaching math. The short-tempered woman played a large role in shaping exactly the kind of teacher Michelle vowed she’d never become.

  “I hated them, too,” Michelle offered, drawing her chair closer to Nell. She was trying to help, but the tougher the problems, the more upset Nell became. Patience was not her strong suit. Luckily, it was Michelle’s.

  “You’ve only got two more to go, and then you’re done with your homework for the day.”

  “I suppose.” Nell picked up her pencils, painstakingly drawing small squiggles on one corner of her handout. “My mum used to help me with maths sometimes.”

  Michelle blinked, taking a deep breath. This was the last context in which she expected Nell to start mentioning her mother. It was a very good sign.

  “Really?” Michelle asked with interest.

  Nell didn’t look at her; she just kept doodling on the page. “Did your mum help you?”

  “Yup.”

  A small smile came to Nell’s face as she peered up at Michelle through her bangs, which definitely needed a trim. “Was she good at it?”

  “Nope.” Michelle laughed. “But she tried.”

  “My mum was sort of good at it.”

  “That must’ve been helpful.”

  Nell shrugged. “It was. I guess.”

  “Why don’t you see if you can figure out the next problem on your own and I’ll start dinner.”

  “Chili?” Nell asked hopefully.

  “That’s tomorrow night. Tonight we’re having spaghetti.”

  “I’ll accept that.”

  “Well, la-di-da, Miss Saari!”

  Nell giggled as she wiggled her skinny butt on the kitchen chair, trying to get more comfortable before tackling the dreaded math problem in front of her.

  Michelle was elated as she started to gather the ingredients to make sauce. She wished she could tell Nell how much it meant to her that she’d shared something about her mother. Yes, she’d shut down a little toward the end (“I guess” being a classic deflection), but the fact that she’d opened up in the first place was major. She’d have to tell Esa. Maybe she’d e-mail him.

  It had been a week since “the incident” as she now referred to the kiss in her mind. And if there was an award given for “Best Job of Minimizing Contact by Two People,” she and Esa would have won it, no contest. It had been more awkward than she’d anticipated, despite the three of them spending a good chunk of time together the day after he hurt his ankle. Actually, it had been excruciating for her, pretending in front of Nell for a prolonged period of time. She had no idea how it had been for Esa.


  * * *

  “How’s it going?” she asked Nell a few minutes later as she assembled the fresh spices and vegetables on the kitchen island. This was one of the things about nannying that teaching didn’t give her: she could nourish her charges not just intellectually, but nutritionally.

  “I’m stupid,” Nell lamented.

  “You’re not stupid. You’re impatient. Take your time.”

  Nell turned in her chair to look at her. “Maybe Uncle Esa could help me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does he have a game today?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then where is he?”

  Nell had started wanting to know where Esa was every minute of every day when he wasn’t practicing or playing a game.

  “I don’t know.”

  Nell nibbled on the tip of the pencil’s eraser. “Can I ring him?”

  “Sure. Use your own phone, though, okay? I don’t want him thinking I’m calling him.”

  Nell looked puzzled. “Why?”

  “I only need to call him if there’s an emergency, and this isn’t. I don’t want to worry him if he sees my number come up,” Michelle explained. Plus, I don’t want it flashing through his mind for even a millisecond that I might be calling him for some other reason.

  “Okay,” Nell said easily, sliding out of her chair and heading toward her bedroom. Michelle grabbed a tomato and started dicing it. She hadn’t been cutting more than a minute before Nell reappeared with a huge smile on her face.

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Uncle Esa is going to have dinner with us tonight, and then after that he’s going to help me with my maths homework.”

  “That’s good,” said Michelle, forcing a smile. “Did he say where he is?”

  “I didn’t ask him. But he said he’d be home in a bit.” A bit? What the hell did that mean? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? Two hours?

  Michelle sliced the tomato in front of her to ribbons. “Nell, can you call him back and tell him dinner will be ready in about an hour?”

  Nell sighed heavily as if put upon. “All right.”