Gucci by E Cleveland

Author:E Cleveland [Cleveland, E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

16

Things Get Steamy

Etta

The puck sails up and arcs through the air. Canuck’s outstretched glove is so close, but it skims by him, flinging into the net. The buzzer wails, shrieking the Warrior’s fate across the stands. The crowd erupts, cheering loudly for their home team.

I stay seated.

The defeat I see so clearly on the scowling face of my brother or in Reed’s downcast eyes is felt by me too. When you grow up in a hockey family like mine, wins and losses are personal. You know it’s not just the goalie having a bad night when the team loses in a two-to-nothing shut out. None of these guys look proud of what they did out there tonight. Every Warrior looks gutted when they skate off the ice and quietly disappear into the locker room.

I’m first on the bus. It’s strange. I look out the window and it feels like the world out there is the exact opposite of what I feel. Spilling out into the streets, past the bus, and into the parking lot, are happy faces on crowds of cheering, smiling, hollering hockey fans. Some of them are grandparents out with their grandchildren. The little ones are all dressed up in maroon colors. There are herds of college kids, including Boston’s bunnies. Everyone looks overjoyed. Losing sucks. Losing an away game is a whole other level. It feels like the entire city is celebrating your loss, not their win.

A couple guys start filing in down the aisle. No matter how many guys fill the seats, it never gets louder in here. It’s a vacuum of silence. The muted sounds of celebration are the only noises. It seeps inside the bus, impossible not to hear. That must be one of the reasons every guy in here has earbuds in.

My brother gets on the bus and throws himself into a seat near the front, and Reed is right after him. I can’t see the top part of his face with his hoodie pulled up like that, but I know those lips… that tight, lean body. He finds an empty seat and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his playlist.

For a second, that feeling from last night, that magical-weightless-hazy feeling, is back. The one I had when I shared his earbuds and listened to songs that meant so much to us. I blink and Reed comes back into focus. He’s hunched over, his hands jammed in his hoodie pockets, his head slowly rolling back and forth to some tune. I wish I knew what it was. What song gives him the comfort I can’t?

The first signs of life on the quiet drive don’t stir until we’re about a mile out from the hotel. Blaze laughs at something on his screen and nudges the rookie next to him. They both look down and snort at the SNL skit playing.

That’s all it takes. That laughter is the pin that breaks this bubble of silence. The bus gets louder as the guys seem to thaw back out.

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