Chapter 4
Gret
My morning routine was robotic to say the least.
Fight tight muscles and climb out of bed.
Shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower.
Stretch out my back while the water gets hot.
Get clean.
Get dressed.
Make coffee.
Consume a huge breakfast.
Sitting at the breakfast table, I flipped through awful news articles on my iPad about how terribly I played the night before.
Fuck this.
I set the device down and tried to shut off the nagging self-loathing that continued to plague me.
Today is a new day.
There was no way to fix what had happened the night before. All I could do was go in to practice with my head on straight and be better than I was before. The fact of the matter was that it was my job—I needed to get my head out of my ass and do my job better.
Had I given one-hundred percent the night before? Nope. I could have played better, been smarter, fought harder. But I hadn’t. There was no changing that. I wasn’t the best puck handler or fastest skater but one thing I did have going for me was the fact that I usually was able to see three moves ahead. I needed to get back to treating hockey like chess instead of checkers.
It was six in the morning. I had about an hour before I needed to get into the locker room but I couldn’t wait. I had a fire lit inside of me that needed to be stoked.
“Morning,” Etta sauntered into the kitchen and my breath was taken away. Literally. I stopped dead in my tracks. The dolled-up woman from the night before was now a rare gem of simplistic beauty. Standing in the middle of the kitchen with her hair up in a messy bun, no makeup, in my shirt with tired eyes and blushing cheeks—she was stunning.
“Ma-morning,” I stammered as I jumped to my feet. “Coffee?”
Rubbing her sleepy, puffy eyes, Etta nodded. “That sounds wonderful.”
“I can make you some eggs or I have oatmeal. I think there’s some fruit in the fridge.” I started yanking food out of the pantry and refrigerator like a crazed buffoon.
“Coffee is perfect. I don’t really eat breakfast,” she responded as she put sugar in her mug.
“Well, I have to eat and I am not going to eat in front of you like some jerk. You don’t have to touch the food, but I’d appreciate it if you at least pretend so I don’t feel like a terrible host.”
“All right.” She smiled at me as she tucked her legs up under her on the plush seat.
I went to town, scrambling egg whites with onions, spinach, tomatoes and peppers. I fried up an entire pound of bacon. Made toast. It looked like I was trying to impress Etta but I ate like that most mornings.
As I put a plate full down in front of Etta, she asked, “What is the plan for tonight? What time do I need to be ready? Am I meeting you there or are we supposed to go together? What is the dress code?”
I laughed as I took a seat across from her. “The party starts at seven. Your dress from last night is perfect. I can drop it off at the dry cleaner before I head into practice and it’ll be ready for tonight. We will go together. I have a car scheduled already. It’s a family party but most of the people will be from my team. My dad’s the head coach, my uncle is the assistant coach. You’ll be meeting tons of people tonight and for that I am sorry.”
Etta tensed her shoulders and threw her hands in the air. “I’m used to crap like that. We’ll make the best out of it. Do we need a story? Am I your pretend girlfriend for the holidays?”
“Do you want to be? I just figured we could tell people the truth… is there something wrong with the way we met?”
“Well, let’s play it out…” Etta smirked before continuing, “‘Mom, this is Etta. I don’t know her but she got dumped last night publicly, I witnessed it and she’s squatting in my apartment because her life is a mess and I am too nice for my own good.’ That’s a winner for sure.” Etta rolled her eyes. “I don’t want your family to think you’re harboring a lunatic or anything.”