We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I could feel her looking at me. The celluloid sizzled and spat.
“Brought you something,” she said. She walked around the fire and held the bag out, smiling. She hadn’t smiled like that at me in a long time. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Even Mom couldn’t fix her this time.”
I looked inside the bag and saw the tattered remains of Eggo. Darlene must have retrieved it from Horvath Road. I reached inside and touched the scrap of black electrical tape clinging to the thumb. I looked up at Darlene.
“What?” she said.
“I don’t know, Darl. Sometimes, I swear, I wish we’d just brought him back and drowned him in the lake.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What the hell.” I took the bag from her and tossed it on the fire. “I won’t be needing that anymore.”
“Gus. You can’t quit hockey.”
“I know. But I’m done playing goalie. Time to fire pucks at other people’s heads for a change.”
We stood there a little longer. The fire quieted until I could hear the melting snow dripping off the garage roof.
“Want to get out of here?” I said.
“Yeah. Want a ride?”
