Page 26 of Tainted Love

I sign my name under his and then the paper goes to some lame chick I made out with at a party last summer, and she and her friend sign up under me. I can see the disappointment on Delzy’s face that we all signed up to work on the same project. I should’ve picked a different one and led them away so he could work with Ivy alone.

I give him a contrite look and shrug my shoulders as the girls excitedly talk about whether Kirk Cameron or Michael J. Fox would make a better Holden Caulfield. It takes everything in my power not to roll my eyes, but I do a good job of hiding my irritation. Delzy doesn’t reign it in quite as well.

One minute, the girls are squeaking about boy bands and the next, Amber says something about Ivy that I don’t quite catch. What I can’t miss is the way Delzy goes off on her afterward. Not that Amber isn’t an elitist asshole, but I’ve never seen him react this way before.

Looks like Ivy has a protective hockey-playing stalker on her hands.

As I stretch on the cold ice rink before the game, the anticipation builds within me. The music blares in my ears, drowning out any outside distractions. This is where I thrive, where I feel most like myself. All other worries melt away when I’m on the ice and I am fully present. It’s a fleeting but precious feeling I treasure every time I play.

This game is exactly what I needed. I feel more like myself when we take the ice for the first period.

The referee drops the puck, and Delzy passes it to me. I weave to the right, pass it away before getting checked, and follow the play. The puck returns to Delzy as I’m setting up for my shot. He passes it quickly behind the defender and I take a split second to set up before slapping it toward the net. The goalie bats it away with his glove, but it slides right back at me, and I instinctively aim for the left side of the net. It sails in with a satisfying swish as the crowd goes crazy. It’s my second goal of the game, and it’s a good one. I was hoping for a hat trick, but those are rare. It’s always my goal in every game.

The emotions that follow are the same for every hockey game I’ve played over the past few years, win or lose. The final buzzer sounds, and my teammates look toward family and friends in attendance for either consolation or celebration. I don’t bother to look around. No one has shown up for me for years. So, after every game, I fight the urge of disappointment, square my shoulders, and act like a leader. Fake it til you make it, right?

“What are you up to now,” I ask Delzy as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“I think I’m going to visit my mom at the dealership,” he replies. “She must have had to work today.”

I nod my head and look at him with curiosity.

“What?” he asks.

“What was up with you in class the other day?”

His brows pinch in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You really went after Amber when she started talking shit about the new girl.”

“The new girl’s name is Ivy,“ he reminds me. “And Amber deserved it. She was being bitchy for no reason.”

“I mean, she always is.” I agree with a shrug, “But you never go off on someone like that.”

“I know, I just...I can’t stand how they’re all talking about her. It’s not right. She seems like she’s been through a lot.”

“What do you mean? The kidnapping? Or something else?” I ask.

He hesitates. There’s more to this story and Ivy than he’s letting on.

“I think you’re into this girl,” I tease. “Better tell Garrison and the guys to lay off.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no emotion to back up his protest. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he protests weakly. “I’m just curious about her.”

I don’t believe him for a moment, and he knows it, but if he wants to tell me more, he will. Besides, I’m curious, too. Not about Ivy, but what her new little goth friend is up to these days.

My heart sinks at the thought of heading home after the game. My dad and brother will probably be lounging around, their usual lazy selves. Instead, I decide to take a detour and visit Gram at Rose Meadows.

The drive from this side of town to the nursing home takes about forty minutes. I dread it every time. The air is thick with the smell of antiseptic and old age. The sounds of wheelchairs squeaking and patients calling out random names fill the halls.

Rose Meadows isn’t a terrible place by any means. It’s actually one of the nicer nursing homes in the area. But it’s still a nursing home, a reminder that my grandmother’s body is no longer able to keep up with her sharp mind.

I’ll never forget the call I received when she fell and broke her hip on her way to retrieve her mail. I was fourteen, and I had managed to hide the fact that both my brother and dad were losing touch with reality. I couldn’t stand the thought of her giving up her life again for me.

It was a sweltering summer day, with temperatures reaching into the eighties even as the sun began to set. She lay on the curb for nearly an hour before a kind neighbor noticed and called for help. By the time she arrived at the hospital, she was in excruciating pain, dehydrated, and disoriented. Seeing her like that broke my heart into pieces.

Thankfully, I was home when the hospital called. My heart raced as I answered, and they explained the situation, hearing the grim news that my grandmother had been rushed to the hospital.

The only hospital around here is about twenty miles away, an equal distance between her home and mine. At that moment, that seemed like the other side of the country. How could I get there fast enough? I ran out of the house, my mind racing with worry and fear.