Frozen Barriers

by Sara Shirley

  Quickening my pace, I am at her side almost instantly wrapping my arm around her waist and nuzzling my lips near her ear. “Don’t make me remind you who you belong to, babe,” I whisper. I feel her hand come up and touch my chest to almost push me away, but I pull her in front of me, so her back is to my front. Eyeing both the guys, I say, “If you two dicks are finished making a play for my girl, we can start heading over to Murph’s for a drink, and you can pick up whatever is free over there.” Dylan and Bryce laugh and turn to walk out the door. Emily and I are behind them walking hand in hand. “Did you have fun at the game?” I ask her.

  “For my first hockey game, it was fun. Your dad helped explain a lot of the play-by-play that didn’t make sense to me, but I think I understand the basics now. Your dad wasn’t happy when you checked that guy up there into the boards. Wasn’t he on your team?”

  “Just marking my territory, babe. It won’t happen again, unless one of those idiots forgets you’re mine.” I nod toward Dylan and Bryce, and Emily laughs.

  We have been at Murph’s for about a half hour, listening to the live band they hired. Killer Buzz Float must have been in another town on tour and stopped by. Typically, Murph’s doesn’t have bands play on Sunday nights, but Killer Buzz Float is huge. I mean, like off the charts. The lead singer Letty has some serious chops, but what appears to have grabbed the guys’ attention is the hot raven-haired chick working the stripper pole on stage. I think I saw somewhere that she is with that Rax guy in the band.

  I send Dave a quick text about Killer Buzz Float being at Murph’s and rockin’ the bar. He isn’t pissed that he couldn’t make it up for the game; he’s pissed that he’s missing Eve work the pole. Standing at the bar and grabbing a couple more drinks while Emily is in the restroom, I turn back toward the stage and that’s when I see her. Fuck! Her eyes immediately meet mine, and I know there’s no escape route now. Once she’s right in front of me in her pleather skirt and halter top with fake tits hanging out, I want to run.

  “Hey, love. I haven’t seen you around here since last season. Care to make another go of it? I could use another good fucking against the wall.” Seriously, how drunk was I that night I thought Avery was attractive? Leaning in and placing her hands on my chest as I take a pull from my beer, she says, “Maybe this time I’ll let you suck the Patron out of my pussy instead of off my tits.” Choking on my beer as I try to ignore her, I see Emily standing right beside me. Fuck! There is no denying she heard every word of that. Well, this just went to hell in a hand basket. Still trying to recover from choking on my beer, I attempt to get Emily’s attention to explain the whole thing. Too late. Avery already catches her staring between the two of us. “You got a starin’ problem, bitch?”

  Oh, shit.

  “Avery, enough!” I yell as my nostrils flare. Dylan and Bryce hear me from the other side of the bar and must notice Avery standing with Emily and me. They begin walking over toward us just as Emily saddles up to my side and looks at me. “Em, please let me explain.”

  She holds up a hand to me as if telling me to just shut it. “Just marking my territory!” she fumes at me. Aww, fuck. She turns toward Avery just as the guys are standing by my side, watching as this all goes down. Her hands are on her hips as she tries to take on Avery. “Listen, skank. I’m pretty sure you’ve had your go with every dick in this bar, but this dick…” Oomph. And those are my balls she’s got in a vice grip right now. Ease up a little, Emily. “…this dick is mine, and the only wall you’ll be against is that one when my fist connects with your face if you come near him again.”

  Dylan and Bryce look at Emily in amazement; their mouths hang open, probably because nobody assumes she has that in her from the looks of her. Seconds later, Avery takes a step forward to get in Emily’s face, and I grab Emily by the waist, pulling her into me as Dylan gets in front of Avery to drag her back toward the doors where Killer Buzz Float is still playing. Good, maybe Avery will hit on Shades. I’m positive Letty will cause a death by a lubed dildo if Avery gets close enough. Scratch that. Letty may be the one to suck the Patron from her pussy.

  Turning my attention back to Emily, I see her breathing settle and shoulders relax. I know she’s never had to confront anyone like that before. I’m proud of her for standing up for once, even if it was against Avery. I know I should have avoided Murph’s, but Manchester is only so big, and we have a limited number of hangouts after games. I move my body so I am facing Emily. The look I get in return is not what I expect or want. Trying to resolve her anger, I say, “Emily, you have to understand, Avery and I were never anything. It was a drunken night last season and I can’t…”

  “Stop, Jeremy. Just stop! I spent the entire time in the ladies’ room having to listen to her tell some other girls how she was going to be coming all over your dick until the sun comes up again since…oh. What. Were. Her. Words. Oh! Yes! Since she apparently made sure you came twice while sucking your cock deep enough to swallow every ounce of come you shot down her throat. Oh! And that’s not the best part. Apparently, she had the pleasure of the infamous Page Patron body shots you licked off her tits before you made her have the best orgasm of her life. Now, did I miss anything, or was that pretty much everything you don’t remember?”

  Holy fuck. Seriously, I don’t remember any of that night except waking up and getting the hell out of there. Avery may be lying to make herself sound good, but the Page Patron body shot is a regular occurrence at Murph’s, so that part may be true.

  I glance back at Emily after rubbing my hands over my face. Her eyes are glassy now. Shit. I did this, and I have no idea how to fix it. I reach out to bring her into me, but she throws her hands up and backs away. “Take me home, now. I just want to go home.”

  Moments later, she’s heading toward the door and crossing the street as I am trying to keep up with her. Her Chucks allow her to make headway. Once I catch up, I reach to grab for her elbow, and she pulls it hard back against her. “Emily, please. You have to know I’d take that night back if I could. She’s slept with every guy on the team. It’s what she does. She fucks ‘em and dumps ‘em.”

  “Seriously, Jeremy! Your excuse before was you were too drunk, and then it’s ‘she’s slept with every guy on the team,’ so gee, I guess it was your turn for a ride on the Avery roller coaster. Shit, I’ve got to take a urine test before my competition this week. Should I be worried now about finding some STD in my system? I can’t even believe this is happening.” She reaches my truck, holding her hand on the door handle, waiting for me to unlock it for her.

  “What do you want me to say, Emily? It was nothing but meaningless sex with her! You can’t hold my poor judgment from months ago against me. It was the worst mistake of my life. I know that now since I’ve experienced love firsthand with you.”

  Once I hit the button on the fob, she gets in, not waiting for me to help. Standing in front of my truck with my palms firmly on the hood, I wonder how the hell I am going to make this right. I’m not losing her, but she’s leaving tomorrow morning, and that only leaves me the next hour to think of a way out of this hole I’ve dug for myself. Picking my head up, I glance at Emily through the front window. She’s crying hard now and swiping tears away at a rapid pace. Pushing myself off the hood, I release all my frustration as my fist pounds against my truck, leaving a dent as I look to the evening sky and scream. Fuck!

  I’m sitting at Logan Airport waiting to board my plane to Denver for the first competition of the Grand Prix. We’ll be staying at my Uncle Richard’s downtown loft for the duration of the trip. Uncle Richard is Mother’s younger brother, my only living relative, and when I say “relative,” I mean person who hasn’t made contact with his only niece since I was maybe three, but shares my blood. You’ve got to love my family. I’m kidding, of course. Even better, I’ve got to board this airborne jail cell for four hours sitting next to mommy dearest. Just. Kill. Me. Now! She’s the last person I want to deal with after the way things ended with Jeremy last nig
ht.

  The entire ride home consisted of me crying, Jeremy pleading with me to talk to him, me not talking to him, me storming out of the truck, running up my stairs, and slamming the door in his face. I know I’m partially at fault. I’ll own that one. I should have talked to him before our hiatus, and I’m almost positive I’ll drive myself crazy worrying about where we are in this relationship. Jeremy stayed at my door for maybe ten minutes, trying to get me to open it for him. I couldn’t do it. When he finally pleaded with me for the last time, I told him I needed time to think about our relationship and perhaps our time apart would help settle my wayward thoughts. I fell asleep listening to his truck back out of the driveway and seeing his headlights illuminate the almost limp bouquet of flowers sitting on my kitchen table.

  Maybe those dead flowers I threw in the trash before leaving this morning were a sign that whatever we had is dead now, too.

  After hearing the gate attendant announce that First Class is now boarding, I hear my mother snobbishly say, “It’s about time.” I shake my head at her inability to actually act civilized. She’s pissed because we had to wait until people with disabilities and young children boarded. Seriously, Mother, get your nose out of the air; you’ll give yourself a nosebleed. She walks right by me, slightly throwing me off balance. Handing the attendant my boarding pass, I follow her down the long hall walking away from one set of problems and toward another. I let out a deep breath as I find my row and take my seat. I reach into my purse to turn off my phone, but not before glancing at the screen. Twenty missed calls. Thirty missed text messages. Seven voicemails. The screen shows the first few text messages before I even open them. Two are from Jeremy, pleading for me to call him. Another one is from Courtney, asking if she can do anything to help because she heard Jeremy and her dad talking in the house last night. The last text is from Sue, asking me to call her ASAP because she needs my help with something. Sue is the only one who didn’t ask anything about Jeremy, so I quickly respond to her before shutting off my phone.

  On my way to Denver and then Vancouver for the Grand Prix. Won’t be back ‘til the end of Oct. I’ll call you once I get to Denver. Hope everything is ok.

  I place my phone back into my purse and put it under the seat in front of me and fasten my seatbelt. Within a few minutes, we are airborne, and I’m shoving my earbuds into my ears and pulling out my e-reader to find something to stop the lump forming in my throat. What to read next? I narrow my options down to two. The first one involves a woman with a troubled past and secrets, courage, and love. The other is about a hot football player who comes to Boston not looking for love, but finding it nonetheless. Both of them sound like they will bring me to tears almost instantly, given my current relationship status. If I were on Facebook, my status would read who the hell knows.

  As the flight attendants make their rounds for drinks and snacks, I simply ask for a coffee and water since it’s only nine in the morning. Mother turns to place her order. “I’ll have a vodka orange juice very little ice, just a splash of juice. I want the top shelf vodka, not the cheap stuff.” She turns and catches me staring at her. “What?” she asks.

  “Really, Mother, it’s a little early to be getting drunk. Plus, you wouldn’t want to tarnish that Cameron image. Appearances are everything, or so I’ve been told,” I respond tersely while folding my arms across my chest. Whoa. Where did that come from?

  Obviously agitated at my condescending tone, she leans over, pulling out my earbud cord. “I’ll have you know your father has invested a lot of money into your Grand Prix endorsements. Perhaps you should consider your tone before speaking to your mother that way. You wouldn’t want your father to cut that funding, now would you?” Yes, actually I would, but I don’t say that. It’s what comes next that has heat pulsing through my veins. “Your father caught a glimpse of that lower-class boy in the driveway yesterday. I might have mentioned how rude he was to me the last time we had an encounter at the house. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy. You should focus more on winning the Grand Prix and then the Nationals, instead of associating with trash.”

  My neck shoots around, and I stare at her with narrowed eyes. How dare she call herself a mother and then insult Jeremy’s status in society and threaten to make up a story to Daddy about him. How? I know how. She’s the insensitive spoiled bitch who gave birth to a child just because it was another business deal for Daddy. Well, I’ve just about had enough in my lifetime.

  As we begin our descent into Denver International, the Rocky Mountains are covered in white, and the airport’s tented roof blends in with the blanket of new snow. Denver may be my chance at a new beginning. All I know is I’m going to focus the rest of the time away on the Grand Prix, and when I get home, I’m focusing on my future. The future I know needs to have all the people who have shown me more love in the last month than my so-called managers have my entire life. I need to find my way off this stairway to hell, even if I die trying.

  The first thing I need to do is make a phone call. Waiting at the baggage claim as Mother argues with the limo driver that was sent for us, I pull out my phone and wait for it to power up. It dings a few more times, notifying me of more incoming messages. I ignore them all, until I find the person I should have contacted in the first place and press Call.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  Come on. Please pick up.

  Ring.

  I’m pretty sure life can’t get much worse than it is right now. How one drunken mistake long before Emily came back into my life can be the reason I’m feeling the way I am, I’ll never know. I’ve begged and pleaded with her voicemail all night and didn’t make any progress. Even talking to Dad last night about my ultimate screw up and what I could do to fix the mess I’m in didn’t help. The moral of the story is don’t get sloppy drunk and screw the bar whores, and at no point in time, do you bring your current girlfriend to said bar where said bar whore makes her rounds. Got it, Dad. Thanks for the pep talk!

  I’m sitting on the bus heading out with the Monarchs on the first major road trip of the season. Trying to catch some sleep, I listen to my iPod and shut my eyes. I didn’t get any sleep last night since I spent most of the night getting my gear packed, and I ended up wasting nearly six hours salvaging my relationship with Emily. Clearly, she’s still not speaking to me. Courtney tried to get in touch with her this morning, too. She wouldn’t respond to her either. Covering my eyes with my arm, I lay my body over the seats, resting my head on my bunched-up jacket. I’ll pay for this later, but right now, I just want to stop reliving the last twenty-four hours.

  Moisture pools in the corners of my eyes, and I’m glad my arm is covering my face. Crying over my failed relationship will do nothing for my image with this team. It’s bad enough I cross checked my own teammate during the game yesterday over her. Coach will surely bench me for being a pussy if he sees this.

  About two hours later, we’re pulling into Portland, Maine. Each of us is given our hotel room assignments and the practice schedule before being released for the night. Early morning skate means none of us would be hitting up the town for an all night binger, not that I would anyway. This isn’t college anymore. This is my job, and we are supposed to keep a level of professionalism when playing for the American Hockey League.

  Swiping my keycard in the door to my room, I drag all my gear behind me before tossing it in the corner. Three weeks on the road means a lot of luggage, but after doing this enough times, it becomes routine. I pull my phone from my back pocket to see a text from Courtney from a few hours ago.

  Never heard back from E. I really thought she’d text me back. Sorry J. Good luck in your game 2morrow.

  Well, that about sums it up. If Emily won’t talk to Courtney, I’ve clearly lost my chance at redemption. Deciding a hot shower might help, I strip off my clothes and head to the bathroom. Stepping into the standard-sized tub that is definitely not meant for anyone over 5’5”, I lean my hands against the wall and drop my head in the s
calding heat. After a while, the water begins to cool off, so I turn it off and wrap a towel around myself while I brush my teeth.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I search through my luggage to find my sweatpants to throw on and pull the blankets down on the bed. Plugging in my phone to the charger, I see I have no missed calls. I decide to take a nap before heading out to dinner later with the team. It’s only one in the afternoon here, but I had hardly any sleep last night, and I’ll need to catch up if I’m going to play well during the game tomorrow night.

  My phone begins vibrating on the nightstand just as I’m about to fall asleep. Ring. Ring. Ring. Rolling over quickly, I unplug it, not glancing at the screen. Emily. Shit! “Emily ?! Em?! Is that you, babe? Please say something.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. It’s Mom.” God, I love my mom, but I would much rather hear Emily’s voice right now.

  “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?” I ask in a flat tone as I lie back on the bed.

  “Everything’s fine here. Your father is still at work, but wanted me to tell you he says hello, and he’ll take good care of Aspen. The main reason I’m calling is to see how you’re doing. Anything you want to talk to me about?” I knew Dad couldn’t keep the situation with Emily quiet for long. She would have eventually figured out something was wrong. Dad’s poker face sucks. “When did Dad spill the beans?” I ask her.

  “Your father didn’t say anything to me, which I will be confronting him about later when he gets home,” she says accusingly.

  “Well, if Dad didn’t tell you, how did you find out about Emily and me?” I wonder out loud. There couldn’t be anyone else who knew.

  “Emily called here earlier. Jeremy, she told me about yesterday. Sweetie, she’s confused and clearly upset over what happened, but she loves you. Just give her some time to focus on her skating for now. When the two of you get home, then you can see where her feelings are.”