Unsportsmanlike Conduct

by Sophia Henry

  After a short silence Pasha said, “I’m sorry I hurt you. But…” He stopped for a moment, then went on, “I warned you. I told you what would happen after the cruise. I told you that you deserved someone better.”

  He stunned me into silence with his nonchalant attitude at having knowingly inflicted so much pain. His voice was void of any emotion. No anger. No sadness. His tone held nothing but complete indifference.

  At least anger is fueled by some kind of emotion. Anger is passion. Anger would have meant he felt something.

  I should’ve held my head high, turned my back, and walked away after being pulverized and embarrassed in public, but I couldn’t. I wanted him to react, to show some kind of emotion. I wanted him to live the rest of his life knowing how much hurt he’d caused.

  But his detached responses took away the satisfaction.

  “Pavel.” Auden stepped between us. “You need to leave.”

  He nodded and turned around. The girl followed him, though she didn’t look happy or smug. No, she looked angry. Evidently I wasn’t the only one he’d played.

  Though every limb in my body felt numb, I reached into my purse and fumbled for my phone. I needed to get out of here. It’s one thing to cause drama. It’s totally different to cause it at your best friend’s wedding reception. It should have been the second-best day of Auden’s life, and I’d ruined it.

  “KK.” Auden’s warm hand cupped my bare shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Her hand stayed, a constant comfort even with each heaving breath I took. I shook my head furiously. “I’m—fuck! Where is my phone?”

  When I finally felt it, I pulled it out, but it slipped from my grasp and crashed to the ground. Mom’s phone. The one I’d borrowed tonight because I’d been reckless and irresponsible with my own.

  I watched it fall. Watched it smash.

  Hundreds of glass shards bounced across the concrete. The pain in my chest felt like someone had shattered my heart with a sledgehammer, sending it flying into a million different pieces, a mirror of the broken screen.

  But broken phones can be repaired, I wasn’t so sure about my heart.

  “I have to go,” I whispered, shaking Auden’s hand from my shoulder and rushing to the door.

  “Kristen!” Auden called out.

  I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t stop walking until I reached the curb outside the restaurant. If I stopped, I’d fall apart.

  The last time I’d broken down like this was with Evan, the boyfriend who opened my naive, optimistic eyes to the dismal future of my relationships.

  Before Evan, I’d never realized guys wouldn’t want to commit to me. I’d never realized guys thought about being widowed or children who would be left motherless.

  But the pain that had pierced my heart when Evan dumped me was nothing compared to the agony of Pasha’s indifference. I thought I’d grown and learned since that moment in high school. I’d let my guard down and suffered the ultimate heartbreak.

  Now that I knew every minute with Pasha had been fake, why would I be surprised that he’d walk away with his tail between his legs? The image fit with the words Auden had always used to describe him: heartless and miserable.

  And to think I’d felt bad for him. I’d actually understood his pain. Understood that he was heartbroken and grieving.

  He’d tried to warn me about this situation. He’d known who I was the entire time. But he hadn’t stayed away. He’d let me into his life. He’d let me fall for him. He’d known he would break me, and he’d continued anyway.

  Despite the irony of it now, I silently repeated the mantra I’d shared with Pasha on the cruise: Don’t waste your precious time on earth with someone who makes you miserable.

  Chapter 29

  “What the fuck was that?” Svetlana yelled at me as soon as we reached the Roostertail’s parking lot.

  Though we hadn’t come to the party together, she made sure to leave with me, because she had to rail me for what had gone down inside, just like Katia would’ve done.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What do you mean you don’t want to talk about it? You wouldn’t shut up about this girl you met on your cruise and then I see that she is here? Why was she so surprised to find out your name?” Svetlana fumbled in her purse, looking for something in the darkness. Then she pulled a joint out. “Why wouldn’t you tell her you’d be here? It sounds perfect and romantic. But you fucked it up.”

  I slapped her hand and the joint fell into her bag. “Put that away until you get home.”

  “You killed my buzz, Pasha.” She glowered at me. “I’m so pissed. I need to call Katia.”

  “Don’t call Katia.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need both of my sisters railing me for something I already felt horrible about.

  How did they not realize I didn’t deserve someone as good as Kristen? I deserved the girls who wanted to blow my cash on coke and suck my dick.

  “You bring home every skank in the city, yet when you find a good girl you fuck her over. I don’t get it. What’s your problem, Pasha?”

  The cab I’d had the hostess call for before we left pulled up in front of the restaurant. I opened the door, allowing Svetlana to get in first. Her dress hiked up her thighs as she climbed in.

  “Pull your skirt down or I’ll take a picture and post it on social media,” I said. “Wonder what Arkady would say if he saw that.” Of course, I’d never really do either one—take a picture or blast it on social media for her fiancé, Arkady Zukarov, to see—and Svetlana knew it.

  “Fuck you, Pasha,” she spat, tugging at her dress as she settled into the backseat of the cab. “Be miserable. That’s your business, but don’t bring everyone else down with you.”

  I slid into the cab behind her and gave the driver the address of Svetlana’s house in Royal Oak. Even though the hotel I was staying at was closer, I’d make sure she got home safely first.

  I took a breath and stared out the window.

  “Explain.” Svetlana patted my knee, but I didn’t turn toward her.

  “I don’t deserve her,” I said. I stared out the window in disgust as we passed parts of Detroit that looked like they had been destroyed by war. The desolation and despair seeped through the window. I couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole of a city.

  Soon everything became a blur—traffic lights, street signs, houses. I’d driven a route similar to this multiple times during the years I lived in Detroit and drove to Robinson Arena, or more recently Martin Arena, for work, but I still couldn’t have told you exactly where we were. My mind was on Kristen and how I’d hurt her, not the route to Svetlana’s house.

  “You knew my father, Sveta,” I said, using her diminutive. Everyone has a diminutive in Russia—hence the name Pasha, the diminutive of Pavel.

  “Yes. So?”

  “What do you mean, ‘so’?” I asked, turning my gaze to her.

  “I want to know what you mean. Why would you bring your father up? What does he have to do with this?”

  She inched closer to me and tried to put her arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged her off. I didn’t want to be consoled or touched.

  “Kristen said something on the cruise that stuck with me.” I paused. “She said, ‘If someone who died helped shape who you are, then they’ll always be part of you.’ ” I paused. “He’s part of me, Sveta. I learned how to be a man from him.”

  Svetlana grabbed my chin and held my face still. “No. You didn’t.”

  I shook my head, trying to shake her grip, but she held me firm. Then she squeezed my jaw and made me look at her.

  “Pasha, you are not like him. You are a good man. A successful man. You could never be like him.”

  “But what if I get hurt and lose my career? What if I get angry and jealous like he did?” I closed my eyes since she wouldn’t let go of my face. “I get angry, Sveta. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “You could never do that, Pasha. That’s not you.” Svetlana
released my face. “Stop thinking like that.”

  “I can’t.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I never gave a shit about anyone until her. She’s loud and fun and has a quick wit. She gives shit back to me, ya know? But I care too much and she’s sick.”

  “What do you mean, sick?”

  “She has this medical disorder. She may not live much past forty.”

  “What?” She drew back.

  I nodded. “I can’t bear to lose her, Sveta. Losing Mama killed me. I can’t get involved with Kristen and lose her, too.” I turned back to the window. The desolation and despair of the city matched my heart.

  “You’ve already gotten involved. You already love her.”

  I glanced back at her. “I don’t love her.”

  Svetlana’s palm connected with the back of my head and sent me forward. “You do. Maybe you haven’t admitted it to her, but you do. I can tell these things. You’re too protective and sappy.”

  “Please don’t tell me I am too nice,” I pleaded.

  “Too nice? Who would ever tell you this? You’re an asshole.”

  I nodded. She was right. I’d only been called nice by one person in my life: Kristen.

  “You say you don’t want to be like your father, but I want to remind you that you don’t have to hit someone to be mean,” Svetlana said. “Destroying a good person’s soul is just as bad.”

  Chapter 30

  DAY 10

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  The next morning, I woke up facedown on my bed still wearing last night’s dress, minus my shoes. I tried to open my eyes, but felt a slight tug from the glue I’d used to apply fake eyelashes holding my lids together. Gently, I peeled the lashes away and blinked a few times.

  From across the room, I saw a rectangular package on top of my dresser. If it had been there last night, I hadn’t noticed. I got up and hit my inhaler before retrieving the box—a new phone. A pink Post-it note fluttered to the ground: Didn’t want to wake you. Hope you had fun at Auden’s party. Call me when you get up. Love, Mom.

  Looking at the box reminded me of how I’d trashed Mom’s phone last night.

  Ugh. Last night. Pasha. His girlfriend. Ruining my best friend’s wedding reception.

  I set the box on the bed for a moment while I strapped on my vest for my morning therapy. Since I had time to kill anyway, I used the session to set up the new phone. As soon as I did, a hundred dings alerted me to social media notifications, emails, and seventy-seven text messages.

  My heart hit the hardwood floor as I slid the bar on my phone. My lips turned up in a smile as I read through the initial messages Auden had texted me while I was on the cruise. My best friend always brought a smile to my face.

  Hope you’re having fun on your cruise! I miss you.

  Not knowing what you’re doing is killing me! Love you! Miss you! <3

  I just filled up for $1.59 a gallon. Go to the Circle K on Graham.

  Shit. That last text was for Sasha! Sorry, KK! Love you! <3

  Find a hottie yet?

  Sasha just made me try caviar. It’s so gross!!! Who eats fish eggs?!?!

  I need to hear your voice. Call me as soon as you step off the boat.

  Auden’s texts continued, random silly messages we always send each other mixed with questions about my trip. Then they changed.

  OMG. OMG. Why am I seeing pictures of you all hugged up on Pavel Gribov?

  You’re on his Twitter feed so much you could be his wallpaper.

  And Instagram.

  And Snapchat.

  You look super-hot, btw. Do you ever take a bad picture?

  OMG! You’re kissing him!!!!!! Why are you kissing Gribov???

  What is going on? Turn on your phone! CALL ME! WTF!

  Dude! Your cruise is over! Why have you not called me?

  Are you alive?!!??

  Srsly. Are you okay? What’s going on? I’m calling your parents! P.S. Love you! <3

  I stopped reading after that one and pressed the power button to turn the phone off completely. Then I took off my vest and pulled the covers over my head.

  Auden had known about Pasha. She’d tried to tell me in the only way she could while I was on the cruise. If Sia hadn’t dropped my freaking phone, I would’ve known before I made a fool of myself at Auden’s reception.

  Fuck the world.

  Chapter 31

  DAY 10

  CHARLOTTE, NC

  Landing in Charlotte to start training camp for the Aviators should have been my proudest moment. I’d worked my ass off my entire life to get to this point—starting the season with an NHL team.

  Hockey has been the constant in my life. Playing got me through my childhood. It gave me something concrete to focus on: being stronger, faster, more skilled—all the things I wasn’t as a dancer, according to my father.

  When I chose to play hockey, it enhanced his wrath—and saved me from it simultaneously. Hockey took away the pain because it removed me from him and the ridicule and embarrassment that came with being around him. And, in a way, hockey took my mother and father away from me as well, since they had been on the way to one of my games when they died.

  Back then, I’d thought that had been my lowest point.

  Shame and self-hatred emanated from my pores and coated my throat. I’m surprised the person seated next to me during the two-hour flight from Detroit to Charlotte couldn’t smell it.

  How could I face my teammates after I’d ruined Aleksandr and Auden’s wedding reception? I hadn’t even had a chance to apologize to them. How could I have done that to Aleksandr after spending the last few years trying to get our friendship back on track?

  How could I have embarrassed Kristen in front of her friends by letting her find out at the wedding who I was? Only a sociopath would do that. I’d known the wedding would be the first time we saw each other after the cruise.

  I hadn’t planned to hurt her. I hadn’t said to myself, “I’m going to let her find out who I am in front of all these people to inflict the most pain and embarrassment possible.” But I might as well have, because that’s exactly what it looked like.

  Fuck!

  I’d had hundreds of opportunities to come clean.

  I could have said something on the cab ride to the San Juan airport. I’d told her she wouldn’t like the person I was when we got back. Why hadn’t I explained why? She would have had time to be angry and recover before seeing me at the wedding. Why had I chosen to do it on what was supposed to be our friends’ happiest day?

  Because everything my father had ever said about me was true.

  Horrible. Selfish. Stupid. Thoughtless. Coward.

  I guess if you hear something enough, you start to believe it. And if you’re really lucky, like me, you may even start to become it. I was a walking, talking, breathing self-fulfilling prophecy.

  And I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want him to be right.

  I wanted to be the man Kristen saw me as. And to do that, I had to make changes.

  Aleksandr and Auden wouldn’t be home for a few more days, but I knew what I needed to do as soon as they got back to town.

  Apologies have never been easy for me, but admitting my mistakes and asking for forgiveness were necessary if I was to have any hope of ever forgiving myself.

  Chapter 32

  DAY 10

  ROYAL OAK, MI

  I know you don’t have a phone, but when you do please just call me and let me know you’re okay.

  Getting Auden’s text made me realize once again that she and I had a true friendship. And I’d ruined her wedding reception with my stupid drama. It made me feel even worse because I knew she’d spent the rest of the night worrying about me. I took a moment to respond, saying, I’m fine. I swear. I just need some time. I’ll talk to you soon. <3

  She texted back, You have a phone??

  Mom replaced mine. I’ll call you later.

  I love you, KK.

  Despite what I’d told her, I wasn�
�t fine. I hadn’t stopped crying since I’d gotten home. Hadn’t stopped punching my pillow, wishing it was Pavel Gribov’s face.

  I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, especially the best friend whose reception I’d ruined. The best friend who relied on me to be the drama-free voice of reason in her life.

  It was just after noon when I woke up again. I heard someone rustling around in my kitchen, which was slightly alarming, since I live alone.

  I opened my bedroom door slowly and peeked out. A familiar figure wearing his trademark worn-out Detroit Lions ball cap stood at the counter.

  Dad.

  My family has this weird habit of letting themselves into each other’s homes. When I was growing up, I never thought anything of entering my grandparents’ house without knocking, or having my aunts and uncles do the same at our house. If we were home, our doors were always unlocked. I didn’t find it weird at all. Maybe because it was all I knew. It wasn’t until high school that I realized this might not be the norm.

  It didn’t help matters that I lived in the apartment above the Royal Oak location of the Olive Tap, Uncle George’s chain of specialty olive oil stores. I’d be willing to bet everyone in my family had a key to the store—and, subsequently, my apartment. But Uncle George only charged me three hundred dollars a month for rent, so for that deal I’d take the chance of family members barging in randomly.

  Instead of rushing out, I closed the door quietly and shuffled to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. After washing my face and brushing my teeth quickly, I changed into a pair of comfy sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt before leaving my room to face Dad.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted me when I entered the kitchen.

  “Hi, Dad,” I replied. I stopped next to his chair and gave him a flimsy hug before continuing to the fridge. I jerked the door open, hoping I’d left a can of pop or something in there before my trip. The shelves were stocked with fresh produce.

  I looked at Dad over the refrigerator door. “Did you buy me groceries?”