Page 11 of Tusk & Puck
“Whoa. Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I ask, tugging on his arm.
“I wanna ask Jaromir what he thinks about the Emperor Penguins trading Slartch for William!”
“Okay, well, hold on,” I say while grabbing a paper napkin. “You don’t want to talk to your favorite hockey player with marinara caked on your face.” I wipe his face clean slowly, hoping Jaromir and Verog will pay their tab and leave before I’m done. I need some time to process everything and let Ryan down easier.
I see them standing up from the corner of my eye and slow down even more. Ryan is wise to my ruse, though, and untangles himself from my grip to stop them. I sigh, drop the napkin on the table, and place my face in my hands.
“It’s no use, Aunt Melody. Imagine if you walked into work and Florence Nightingale was just standing there. You’d freak out, too!” Tina says.
“Sorry, do you think nurses hero-worship Florence Nightingale like she’s a movie star? You know she’s been dead for a hundred years.”
Tina shrugs her shoulders. “I couldn’t think of anyone else you might think was as cool.”
I honestly don’t know how to take that statement. So instead, I stand up and ready myself to apologize on my nephew’s behalf. Again.
But when I get there, I see Jaromir looking down at Ryan with a wide smile. He’s intently listening to Ryan’s every word, nodding along, and answering every question. When Jaromir looks over at me, my breath catches in my throat. There’s something about his presence that’s making me want to let my guard down.
Instead, I nod in his direction, fighting the urge to push my glasses up. I wish I did it less. It makes me look like a teenager trying to come up with something smart sounding to tell the hottest guy in school. Especially right now. Ugh.
“Ryan, we should let them go now,” I say, mostly for my own benefit. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me all of a sudden. Ryan, predictably, makes the saddest expression I’ve ever seen on him before.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Jaromir says. He puts a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “We’ll have plenty of time before and after practices to chat.”
“That’s the problem,” Ryan says with contempt. “Shewon’t let me join the hockey team.”
Suddenly, all eyes are on me. Including a few eavesdropping diners, some of whom are mumbling a thing or two about a jet ski and shattered ass.
“What happened to your arm?” Tina asks.
“Tina…” I warn as Verog chuckles.
Jaromir chokes on whatever response he had planned, and I wonder just how funny this dangerous story is supposed to be. He looks me over a moment, then reaches into his pocket.
“Here, why don’t you and your sister go have some fun in the arcade, on me? Let me talk to your aunt for a few minutes. If that’s alright?” he asks.
I find myself nodding before my brain can catch up. Ryan takes the twenty dollar bill and pulls Tina towards the token machine. Verog shakes his head and sits down, watching us both like he’s at the movies. Jaromir extends his unslung arm to me.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Jaromir Fletcher.”
“Melody Wentworth,” I reply, shaking his hand. “So, you’ll be assistant coaching the hockey team. That’s … with your injury?”
“It’s not that bad. I can skate with both my arms in a sling. I can show you some time if you want.”
Verog chokes on his drink, cutting Jaromir off. The towering orc clears his throat and continues. “Verog and I had a blast playing hockey as kids. Best thing that ever happened to me. It taught me teamwork, leadership, and healthy conflict resolution,” he says, seemingly trying to make himself believe that last part.
“Uh huh. And you’re saying you didn’t getthatfrom a conflict on the ice?” I ask, gesturing at his injury.
“What, this?” he asks, lifting his arm up. I spot a carefully concealed ketchup stain on his shirt as he does. “Nah, little accident off the ice. Unrelated. Nothing to tell, anyway. Is that why you don’t want Ryan playing hockey?”
Something about the way he asks makes me feel like he’s understanding of my concern, rather than condescending. Maybe it’s the look he’s giving me, something between a therapist and girlfriend, but I drop my shoulders at the sight of it. I take a deeper breath than I have in what seems like hours. Who knew a guy made of almost pure muscle could be soft in the right places?
“Yes, sort of,” I manage, blinking away the thought. I’m here to talk about Ryan, not daydream. “It’s my job to protect him. And I’m very familiar with what can happen to kids in contact sports. No offense to you or Verog, I’m just not comfortable with Ryan being in that… situation.”
Jaromir looks at me with a half-smile, and that lump gets stuck in my throat again.
“That’s understandable. I had my fair share of bumps and bruises, and sure, a couple of fights broke out. But I also had some of the best times of my life in hockey. Heck, here I am twenty years later, and I can still look back at that time with a smile. Better than sitting around watching television all afternoon.”
That gives me pause. Ryan and Tina do spend a lot of time online. Am I focusing on their physical safety to the detriment of their mental health? I don’t have the time to monitor their internet history every single day. Is Ryan’s social life suffering for it?