It happens in the third.
Next to him, Dennis is losing his mind, on TV, Elliot is swept into the arms of Mikey Walters, a very large D-man, who lifts Elliot right off his feet. Hats rain onto the ice and Elliot’s teammates pile a few on his head before the ice crew takes them away.
Order resumes, and Dennis says, “Did you text him?”
“Huh?” Blake’s brain catches up a moment later. Right, they’re friends, he should probably send Elliot one of those congratulations texts that they’ve become so good at. He got one for his first win, another one for his first shutout, surprised that Elliot was checking the AHL scores, and Blake also sent one to Elliot when he got his first point and two days later his first goal.
Blake hates sending and receiving those texts.
He picks up his phone, says, Proud of you, but doesn’t hit send, because he’s not Elliot’s mom. Awesome goals, he tries next, but it sounds weird to him, so he deletes that as well. Five more tries and Dennis shoots him a look that’s asking if he’s writing a novel over there.
Blake grits his teeth and sends, Congrats on the hatty!
He hates this one, too.
The Ravens eventually win the game 6-0. It’s a fluke, because the Ravens have been terrible since the start of the season, have been terrible for the past two years and are slow to get back to where they’d like to be, but they aren’t going to lose every single game of the season either.
Blake does not receive a reply from Elliot until the next morning: thanks. how’s it going?
Blake tells him that everything’s going fine, doesn’t mention that he thinks about him all the time, doesn’t mention that he misses him and that he sometimes wonders if Elliot misses him, too, doesn’t mention that he wishes they had time to really talk more often. Elliot is too far away, not just because Blake isn’t across the river in Newark, but because he’s living an entirely different life. He gets to be an NHL player already and Blake is still waiting his turn, and that’s really just how it is in this business.
They can’t all be prodigies who break rookie records.
#
He gets called up in February.
He mostly sits on the bench, because it’s the Knights’ backup who’s injured, so their starter, Jake Matthews, is still in net for the three games that Blake spends with the Knights.
He joins them for the first one in Florida, then flies back to Newark with the team and Mattie – like there was never even a question where Blake would be staying – takes him home, to his wife, his two kids, and his two Labradors. Blake becomes fast friends with both the kids and the Labradors, lobbing balls around their playroom with tiny plastic sticks.
They have the day off when they return from Florida and Mattie takes it upon himself to show Blake around, because, “You know, in a few years you’re probably going to live here.”
Mattie is thirty-one. If he plays for a few more years, Blake might be ready for the NHL when he retires. Mattie talks about it like there’s really no other way for the Knights to go, like Blake already has a place in this franchise, like, in a few years, he’ll take Mattie’s place.
When Mattie goes on and on about what a great time Blake is going to have and how well he’ll fit into the team, Blake finds himself staring in disbelief.
“What’s with the face, kid?” Mattie eventually asks. “Is that why they call you Fish? Because you make that face?”
“No, they call me Fish because Samuels is apparently the same as salmon.”
“Sure,” Mattie says. “What’s with the gaping then?”
Blake gapes a little more and then asks, “Aren’t you… I don’t know… Wouldn’t you rather play forever?”
Mattie laughs like that was the funniest joke he’s ever heard. There’s some wheezing and snorting. Mattie claps Blake’s shoulder. “Yeah, ten years ago I wanted to play forever, but now it’s…” Mattie shrugs. “I love hockey, but I’m not getting any younger. I’ll go as long as I can, and as long as they’ll let me, but… You know, my dad was a hockey player and he had to retire early and he said that hanging up the skates might have hurt less if he’d seen it coming. So, I guess what I’m saying is that I’m seeing it coming.”
“Oh,” Blake says. He can’t even imagine it, retiring.
“No, I get it,” Mattie says with a wink. “You haven’t even started yet.”
In the afternoon, Mattie leaves him to his own devices and, for the first time, Blake considers the river. So easy to cross. And then he’d be in New York City and then what? He knows that Elliot lives in Manhattan with one of his teammates, but he has no idea where. Manhattan isn’t a place you go to on a whim to track down an old friend.
Elliot might not even be in the city.
With Blake getting called up, he lost track of the schedule a bit, so he pulls out his phone to check. Elliot’s playing in Toronto tomorrow night, so today might be a travel day for the Ravens.
Elliot’s not even in the city. So the river doesn’t matter.
It wouldn’t even matter if he was in the city. Because what was Blake going to do anyway? Give him a call? Ask him if he wants to hang out? Elliot likely doesn’t want to see him. They broke up. No, not even that, because they weren’t together in the first place. They were something, in the middle of the night, whenever no one
