Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
However, I find myself not being able to wait until I make the almost twenty-five-minute drive home, so I call her as soon as I pull out of the parking lot.
She answers with, “You played awesome tonight, Jim.”
It’s a compliment many people told me in the locker room, and my stats bear it out. I had a goal and an assist.
But hearing it from Ella, well, that produces an entirely different feeling. It hurt when I lost her as not only a wife but also as my number-one fan. Hearing the enthusiasm in her voice only makes me more determined to get her back and to be a better man.
We chat about the game for a few minutes, then she asks, “How’s Dax doing?”
Late in the third period, Dax had a breakaway and got hooked from behind. He went sprawling to the ice. It didn’t seem like a bad fall, but he’d popped up while rubbing at his right shoulder. It didn’t seem bad as he went back out on his regular line change, but I could tell he was favoring it.
It was subtle, though. I’m sure the only way Ella knows something is wrong was because the announcers were talking about it.
“I think it’s just bruised,” I say, which was the latest word before I left the arena.
“That’s good.” She sighs in relief. “The fall looked bad on TV.”
I chuckle. “Let me guess—they replayed it over and over again in slow-mo?”
“Four times,” she exclaims, and I guess it always looks worse in slow motion, “but you could see he came straight down on it so hard he bounced off the ice a bit.”
“Ouch,” I grimace. In regular time, you sure as hell couldn’t see that. “Well, he seemed okay. Was moving it around all right in the training room when I left.”
“That’s good,” she replies brightly. “I was really worried.”
Not just my fan, but a fan of the team, and that also makes me feel great. As if she’s returning to the fold.
I change subjects. “Did Lucy get her project done tonight?”
“She did,” Ella says. “And cleaned the kitchen without being asked after dinner, and took excellent care of Brody. Although I went and checked on her a bit ago, and Brody was asleep in bed with her.”
Chuckling, I try to envision how sweet a picture that must have been. “Did you put him back in his kennel?”
“Nah,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Figured she’d wake up at some point and move him back.”
“She’s done well with him,” I remark. It’s been almost a week since he’s been in her care, and she’s done everything that has been asked of her. She’s been responsible for his feedings and potty training. She’s even gotten up in the middle of the night if he started whining, taking him out to do his business. He’s yet to piddle or shit in either house, and that’s because Lucy has been super diligent.
“One more week, and he has to be returned.” Ella’s tone is thoughtful and a bit sad. “I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with her heartbreak. She’s become so attached to him.”
“The downside of fostering,” I reply. “I guess we need to think about what we’re going to do. I mean… in my mind, it’s a no brainer. We should get her a dog. She’s earned it.”
“I agree,” Ella says brightly. “As long as you’re okay with it. You’re the one with the allergies.”
“It hasn’t been bad as long as I take the medicine, and I don’t do a lot of cuddling with him.”
“Should we go ahead and tell her?” Ella asks. “Maybe to help soften the blow a little when it comes time to take Brody back to the service dog organization.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Let’s start looking. Maybe a lab or a golden retriever.”
“She’ll be thrilled.” Ella remains silent for a moment, and then hesitantly asks, “You have anything going on tomorrow?”
It’s a non-game and non-travel day, which usually means mostly free time. I get a thrill running through me that my wife is asking about my plans for the day. “Going to do a workout in the morning, but no team meetings or anything.”
“So I was thinking,” she drawls, again with a bit of hesitancy in her voice. “That maybe I’d take a sick day, and you and I could go do something together.”
I start to open my mouth to tell her I fucking love that idea, but she talks over me. “Let me clarify… let’s go do something you want to do—hiking perhaps? Maybe we can rent a pontoon boat and take it out on the lake. You’re the outdoorsy dude, and I’m willing to get outdoorsy with you.”
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. Ella is taking the initiative to spend time with me—taking a day off from work to do so—and her offer to do something that I like only speaks to her desire to quid pro quo me. It means, without her having to come out and say it, that she’s appreciated my efforts and is wanting to give back to me.