Page 6 of The Game
I browse the stores, looking for sleek pants and classy tops.
I go for black, brown, white, and beige colours, keeping it neat and straightforward. My hands start to ache from all the bags I’m carrying as I head to the last stop on my list.
I already have quite a collection of high heels, but I told myself I’d get one more pair to celebrate landing my dream internship.
I walk around the store, searching for the perfect pair, when I spot a set of sleek, pointed-toe stilettos with a glossy, deep-brown finish.
The heels are slender and elegant, while the glossy finish gives them a bold, luxurious edge—a perfect pair that keeps you polished and sharp while making a statement.
I try them on, and I’m sold the moment I see how well they match my outfit, knowing they will go with many of the options I have brought.
I gather all the bags and head to my grey Toyota GR86, a gift from my dad when I turned 21.
After dropping off all my shopping bags at the dorm and hanging up the clothes that needed hangers, I start my drive out to Tinley Park.
As I get closer to the city, the familiar feelings of loss and gratitude wash over me.
Even though my mom isn’t physically here, I know she’s watching over me, and after a quick stop at the local flower shop, I head for the cemetery.
I place a bouquet of pink lilies, my mom’s favourite flowers, before sitting down in the grass, telling her about the latest updates in my life, mainly the internship.
She was always a big supporter of my dad and his NHL career, and even though his career was over when I was born, they took me to many games, all bundled up in cozy overalls with a variety of snacks.
Dad and I have done our best to keep our traditions alive, even though my mom’s absence is felt.
“I wish you were here with us; we miss you every day.”
I sit there feeling the wind blowing in my hair, with the early spring weather approaching. Mid-March can bring anything from snow one day to summer heat the next.
I make my way back to my car before heading home to my dad, who’s waiting with dinner ready and hockey on the TV, just like old times.
“Which team will you be cheering for?” I ask Dad when we’re lying on the couch, watching the game.
“With my baby working with Chicago, I’ll have to cheer for them this year,” he tells me, and I laugh.
We’ve always been Chicago fans, but dad used to play for Washington, so we also hold a special place in our hearts for them.
“Yeah, looks like they’re heading for the playoffs, so that will be exciting.”
Talking hockey has been part of our daily routine for as long as I can remember.
When I mention my upcoming meetings with the players, he gives me a warning look.
“Spit it out, Dad, what are you thinking?” I say, feeling like I’m in for a good old scolding, even though I’m 24 years old.
“I just want you to be careful, Sarah. You’re a beautiful woman, and those players will notice, so just be careful, okay? I’ve been in this league and know how these men can be,” he tells me, and I roll my eyes at him.
Dad’s always been worried I’d bring home a hockey player and that he would break my heart.
I tell him that he’s got nothing to worry about.
I’m there to do my job and maybe enjoy some eye-candy once in a while.
When I tell him that, he almost falls over, looking like he might have a heart attack, which makes me laugh.
“Calm down, Dad. I can handle some hockey players just fine.”
A part of me feels nervous about the meetings, hoping I’ve prepared enough.
