by Jeff Adams
As soon as I walked in, a young man behind the lobby desk greeted me. “Mr. Pressgrove, hello. How can I help you this evening?” He gave a shaky, nervous smile as he straightened his tie.
I’ve played for the Arsenal for seven years, but it always threw me to be recognized away from the arena or events. Kennedy dealt with it often as the captain and the face of the team. And while I’m on the starting lineup most games, having people call me by name in random settings like this surprised me.
“Kyle is fine.” I smiled, and his smile grew larger. “I’m here to see Austin Murray in seventeen twenty.”
“Yes, sir. One moment. I’ll buzz him.”
As he made the call, I glanced around the lobby. The tasteful mid-century look didn’t fit with the outside of the building, but I quite liked it. It all felt like a living room with even the reception desk fitting the esthetics. A wall full of books over a small fireplace took up one side and added to the feeling of being in someone’s home.
“I’m sorry Mr.— Kyle. Mr. Murray didn’t answer. I’ve been on duty about an hour, and I haven’t seen him come in, and he usually stops to check for packages and laundry.”
I sighed. Given the texts we’d traded yesterday and today, I didn’t expect him to be late today since we’d decided I’d pick him up and that I wanted to make sure we were there for Adriana’s welcoming remarks. According to my watch, he still had two minutes before he was officially tardy.
“Is it okay if I hang out of here and wait? I am a little early.”
The guy gave me a single nod. “Of course. There’s water and coffee there.” He pointed to an area adjacent to the shelves. “You can help yourself.”
I nodded back and decided to kill time by looking at the books. The selection was an eclectic mix of fiction, with books I recognized but also many that I did not. A small plaque indicated that residents could borrow books and add ones they wanted to get rid of. Very cool idea to have a lending library like this.
After I read a few spines, I checked my phone. And then repeated the cycle.
The last text message from Austin came in shortly before noon when we’d talked about where we might want to go for dinner. We’d narrowed it down to tapas or pizza.
I also had no missed calls.
Austin had planned to get here with enough time to change clothes too.
We had a little bit of time to spare in our schedule to arrive. I’d give him five minutes, and then I’d go solo.
I texted him. Where are you? I’m in your lobby.
Typing bubbles appeared immediately. Kyle, so sorry. Last minute stuff popping up all over the place. I’m walking out. Be there in fifteen.
That didn’t seem realistic given traffic this time of day. I checked the time again. Traffic between here and the gallery wouldn’t be too bad. I could let this go for a little bit.
Fine.
I scanned the shelves and even made notes on a couple books I wanted to read. One was about a romance between a prince from England and the son of the president of the United States. I loved a good romance. Who doesn’t like a little happy? The other one was far darker about murders in a Missouri college town and two cops who had to figure out who done it.
Five minutes had passed, and I texted again. I wanted to make sure he’d actually walked out. How’s traffic? Are you gonna make it?
I sat on one of the comfy couches and scrolled Instagram. I clicked the heart on several pictures of the team already at the gallery. David must be there because some of them were on the official team feed. Adriana planned to donate some of the evening’s proceeds to the team foundation, so no surprise that David was on hand to document the event.
A text message dropped down from the top of the screen. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll meet you there. People keep pulling me aside. It’s been that kind of day.
I should’ve just gone when he wasn’t here when I arrived.
Do what you need to do. I’ll see you later.
Slightly passive-aggressive and nebulous on my part. Frankly, I didn’t expect to see him tonight. I pocketed the phone and headed for the door.
“Not waiting for Mr. Murray? Do you have a message?”
I looked back at the guy who’d been nothing but polite and eager to help and swallowed my bubbling anger. “No, thanks. I’ve been texting with him so it’s all good.”
“Great. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
As soon as my phone connected to the car, a torrent of text messages arrived.
The robotic voice read, “I’ll be there. I promise. As soon as I get out of here, I’ll be there. I know this is important.”
I imagined him talking quickly into his phone to get out the messages he thought I wanted to hear. If I wasn’t an employee with critical information, I’d always be far down the list of his priorities. I don’t know how he could justify that. My parents kept close track of the commitments they made to me and Bobby, to each other, to friends and colleagues. It wasn’t that they weren’t flexible, but there was a way to handle things going wrong.
Austin didn’t seem to have those rules. Whoever or whatever had his attention in the moment ruled, no matter what else he’d promised to do.
Was it worth trying to build something with Austin when a big part of his personality was something I had such a hard time tolerating? Did I want to change myself?
More texts came in.
I ignored them.
I could dictate a reply, but I didn’t have anything to say. We’d see if he showed up or not.
I wanted to be proven wrong.
As I’d hoped, traffic was manageable to the gallery. The place was packed. Thankfully, someone had the foresight to arrange valet parking so I didn’t have to circle endlessly looking for a spot. I pulled up behind a car that was being tagged and hopped out, leaving the keys behind. One of the people from the stand came up quickly and gave me a claim ticket.
Inside, a lot of people were clustered in the front room. Beyond the large open area, people wandered through the smaller areas.
I waved at a group from the team as I shucked off my overcoat and handed it off to coat check. As soon as my hands were free, a waiter offered a wine and hot cider. Another perfect touch because the warm drink was exactly what I needed.
Adriana had created some amazing works. There were also some on display at Kennedy’s house, but these were extraordinary. She’d created large-scale images of scenes from Detroit that mixed past and present. It fascinated me how she took something everyone knew and transformed it. From the downtown skyline to individual houses to some of the rundown areas of the city.
While talking with my teammates, I ended up looking beyond them to the art.
Talking to Crenshaw, I saw it.
I did my best to extract myself from the conversation without being rude before walking over to a wall that had two larger pictures but also several smaller ones. The one that drew my attention was of Joe Louis Arena. The image showed many decades: from before the arena existed to its construction on to its heyday and the more recent demolition.
My chest tightened and goose bumps crawled over my arms. I blinked back a tear. The picture was gorgeous and brought such a mix of happy and sad.
I reached out and stopped just short of touching it. The amount of texture and materials she used gave the image incredible motion—like a time lapse.
“You like it?”
I jerked, and the cider in my mug sloshed out onto my hand. I looked at Adriana, embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle.” She put her hand on my forearm and smiled. I returned what had to have been the most sheepish grin ever.
“This is stunning.” I struggled to find more to say, but I was afraid I’d sound lame.
“You’ve been standing here for quite a few minutes.”
“I played my first pro game there. I played in our last game there.” My words got caught on an unexpected lump in my throat. “My dad took me
there when I was five to see the Arsenal.”
I took a minute to compose myself, willing tears not to fall. Adriana simply stood there, and we looked at the picture together. This captured all of that and the before and after. To the right of the picture, a small card showed its name, “Remembering the Joe,” and cost, thirty-seven hundred dollars.
“I remember seeing Terry in a game there shortly after we started dating. The incredible energy of the crowd was nothing like I’d ever experienced. I barely knew hockey, but I loved watching him skate. After so many years spent in that building, it was an obvious choice to create an image. I hope I did it justice for anyone who’s been there.”
“You have.” Damn it. I had to wipe at my right eye.
Adriana hugged me across my shoulders. “It means a lot that it’s moved you this way.”
I looked at her, and we traded small smiles. “Who do I talk to about buying it? I would like to hang this in my house.”
Fourteen
Austin
Kyle had every right to be pissed. His message came through loud and clear in his text.
When it came to business, I was on time or gave a heads up that I’d be late and if the meeting could start without me.
While I should’ve extended the courtesy to Kyle that I did to my work colleagues, I probably should’ve begged off for the night because I still had things to review. Coming off last week’s presentation, we had follow-ups due at the end of the week. Plus, Chevy came forward and said they wanted a review of our plans for the two years remaining on our contract, which didn’t seem like good news.
My need to see Kyle and apologize overrode the urge to work.
As long as I had feedback to the team by morning, it’d be fine. Truth be told, I could probably take care of everything first thing, but as usual, I didn’t want to be a holdup if anyone wanted to get started early.
Looking inside once I’d passed off the car to the valet, I took a deep, steadying breath. I didn’t see Kyle but the place was packed. Crowds weren’t my favorite, especially social ones. Managing strangers in a business setting came easily. When I had to interact with people I didn’t know among a sea of others, it stressed me out. Words escaped me, I got jittery. I didn’t like it, but I’d get through it like I had at the auction.
I turned on the charismatic, confident person I am for work gatherings. I’d be worn out later, but Kyle needed to know his importance to me.
Despite the chill, I stayed outside to scan the crowd. I hoped to spot Kyle so I could go directly to him but not all of the gallery was visible from the front windows.
I took out my phone and brought up his text screen. He hadn’t even seen my last couple of texts. Was he ignoring me or simply not checking because he was busy in there?
The longer I stayed outside, the more my nervousness increased exponentially. So many butterflies swirled in my stomach, I considered leaving to make it stop.
I needed to take the leap and get in there, join the party, and take whatever lumps I had coming for being a late jerk.
Entering, I immediately warmed up and held back a sigh as the air felt good on my face. I still didn’t see Kyle. He had to be here.
“Take your coat, sir?” asked one of the many people working the event. They were everywhere in black pants, white shirts, and black vests. Typical attire. This was a well-managed event.
“Yes, thank you.” As I took it off and handed it over, I spotted a bluish gray peacoat that I’d seen Kyle wear on one of the racks. Fingers crossed that it was his.
With a glass of wine to settle my nerves, I moved into the crowd. It looked like the entire team was here, including coaches.
“Mr. Murray. I thought that was you.” I turned and found David approaching. “You looking for Kyle?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“I saw him a couple minutes ago in the alcove over there.” He pointed off to an area in the rear of the gallery. “I think he’s found a picture he likes.”
“Thanks.”
He’d mentioned that he liked Adriana’s work. It would be interesting to see exactly what he was in to. Disappointment crept over me because I missed that moment when he discovered the image that spoke to him. I liked moments when his eyes lit up in recognition of something—whether it was food he enjoyed, me skating better, or whatever. Tonight, I’d missed out because I didn’t prioritize our date.
Kyle stood with the artist and another woman who was dressed in a very smart gray suit, perhaps the gallery owner. They were in the middle of the space, but I had a good guess about what he’d bought. The image of The Joe was amazing.
I stayed put for a moment and watched them talk.
Hesitation served no purpose. I took a breath and approached. I stepped in next to Kyle and offered a quick nod and a smile to him so I didn’t interrupt Adriana.
He gave me a tight smile in return.
“It was really great to be able to get additional access because of Terry. I think the building manager thought I was crazy, scraping bits of paint and taking small bits of other materials from the interior and exterior. I also flew a drone before and during the deconstruction to get some of the images.”
She looked to me as she finished her thought and then another look at Kyle.
“Adriana Kennedy and Sarah Katz, this is Austin Murray, my date.” He explained that Sarah owned the gallery, and I extended my hand and greeted them.
I opted to save my apologies for when we were alone. “You’re the proud owner of The Joe picture now?”
“Yeah. I am.” His eyes were bright and excitement came into his voice, erasing the look he’d first given me. “What you heard was some of the material that she’s put into it. I’ve now got a small piece of the arena forever.”
“I’m so glad it resonated with you,” Adriana said. “I’d hoped it would end up with one of you guys.”
Sarah checked her watch. “We should have you make your remarks. It’s about quarter till.”
“Of course. Kyle, please excuse me. Austin, great to meet you.”
“Mr. Pressgrove, I’ll have your paperwork shortly. Thank you again so much.”
Sarah and Adriana went toward the front of the gallery, and Kyle turned his attention back to his new purchase.
“This is really incredible. Come see.”
Kyle brought me over and excitedly pointed out where there were actual materials, like the paint scrapes, being used as part of the layering Adriana had done. The excitement that rolled off him filled me with warmth, but it was tinged again with regret that I hadn’t seen him discover the picture.
“Do you have anything else from the arena?”
“I’ve got my locker, which I have in my guest bedroom. If I ever build my own place, I’ll figure out exactly the right use for it. The players got to take some stuff before they started marking things for the auction. I wish I’d taken more, but I tried to be realistic about what I might actually display because I didn’t want to just put stuff in storage.”
As attention was called to the front room, people moved in that direction, leaving us mostly alone.
I reached for Kyle’s hand, and he let me take it. “I’m sorry.” I spoke softly. “I know my track record with you sucks. All I can do is apologize and try to do better.”
He nodded, his jaw tight. He held in what he truly wanted to say, probably due to the venue
I dropped my head, unable to hold his gaze. “I understand. I—”
“I’m trying to do better too.” That spark in his eyes from when he showed me the picture was gone, and now he looked troubled. “I hold too much on things I was told as a kid. I need to be more understanding that things can come up.” He sighed but some of the sadness lifted. “Let’s go listen to Adriana. Then we’ll enjoy the rest of the night and decide what’s next.”
I nodded but said nothing. We ended up smiling at each other, and he squeezed my hand. As we joined the crowd around Adriana, his confident smile returned, and I put
on my best networking face.
I had hope. He hadn’t broken it off. I had time to figure out how to be a good boyfriend.
Fifteen
Kyle
I’d have to get off the ice soon because they’d open for seating. The PA played great pop tunes, and I’d gotten partially in gear to skate solo and center myself.
West Coast road stints were the worst. I’m okay with two or three days on the road, but after that, I had to fight against being cranky. I had distinct homebody tendencies.
The team started in Anaheim, where we’d lost in overtime, and we were in Vegas for an afternoon game that we expected to win. We’d stay here overnight and then hit San Jose before heading home.
I’d traded a few texts each day with Austin. He was traveling too—at a conference in Atlanta. We kept up with each other’s day. His meetings frustrated him so he focused on trying to tell me something he enjoyed about the day and asking more about what travel was like for the team. I enjoyed hearing about his trip to the Coca-Cola Museum, which he retreated to after a grueling meeting day. He liked sampling the sodas from around the world, and I’d agreed that sounded cool.
I kept my cranky road persona from him—at least I think I did. Over the years, I’d learned how to focus on the game and not fixate on the million and one things that could happen with Mom and Bobby while I was on the opposite side of the country. I saw a therapist a couple of years ago, and I’d gotten some good tips on how to keep my shit together for these stretches. After all, the team didn’t need to deal with my mood.
After the game, the team planned to find a good meal together—Vegas did have great food choices—and then split up. Those of us not into the gambling were looking for a concert or show to see. I’d put my suggestion in for any of the many Cirque du Soleil shows since I wouldn’t mind seeing some hot, bendy guys on stage.
My pre-game skate reminded me of Austin and made me smile. We needed another day like that. Adriana’s opening was tainted with his lateness, which we talked through at dinner. Before we’d hit the road and he’d come over for a Netflix and chill, which turned into a Parks & Rec marathon with chocolate and wine. I’d liked that a lot. It had been comfortable since we both loved the show, so we’d talked about favorite parts. It’d been perfect.
