Page 135 of Full Contact

“She doesn’t require special powers. I give her everything she needs.”

He laughed. So did somebody behind him.

Varga came up behind me and clapped me on the shoulder.

“She called it,” he said. “I only executed.”

The reporter laughed again and wrote something down.

“Do you want to talk about our defensive coverage in the second period?” I asked.

He looked down at his notebook. I talked him through our weak-side support. He nodded and wrote some of it down. I already knew which part would end up in the headline.

When I returned to the condo, I was still nursing a bruise on my hip from a hit in the second period of the Calgary game, and another on my calf that I didn’t remember getting. I’d slept in four different beds on the trip and hadn’t slept well in any of them.

I left my suitcase by the door and sat down without taking off my coat. Peaches walked over and sniffed my hand.

I pictured Sunday morning. I’d skip optional skate. There would be no bus and no reporters. Peaches would lie on my legs, I’d drink coffee, and I might even stretch out on the couch for a nap.

Then I remembered Mark was coming early in the afternoon. He would arrive at two. He would be easy company like he always was, and he’d demand very little from me.

Even so, he’d be in the armchair, and I’d notice every time he turned a page.

I called him early Saturday evening. He picked up on the second ring. I could hear traffic in the background and a turn signal clicking.

“You’re in the car,” I said.

“I’m on my way home from getting groceries. How was the flight back?”

“The usual. Varga insisted someone stacked the deck for the card game. Anything good from the grocery store?”

“I stopped at the bakery to pick up a tart for us.” He sounded pleased with himself. “They had one left. A woman in front of me looked at it for a long time and then bought scones.”

I smiled. Peaches was asleep on the arm of the couch, one paw hanging over the edge.

“Mark, I want to ask you something about tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Could I have Sunday to myself?” I asked. “The trip has caught up with me. I’d like a day at home without any plans. No company and nothing I have to be ready for.”

I’d worked out what I’d say on the drive home, and it came out about the way I’d planned. I expected him to be disappointed. I also expected him to understand quickly. He’d asked for his Tuesdays not long ago.

The line was quiet. A car door opened and shut.

“I thought we had plans,” he said.

“We do. I’m asking whether we can change them.”

Another pause.

“Felix invited me over tomorrow afternoon,” Mark said. “Dana’s going. He’s trying a braise. I told him I couldn’t, because I was coming to yours.”

I almost told him to call Felix back.

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“I know you didn’t.” I heard his footsteps. “I understand wanting a day alone. I wanted one myself last week. You know I did.”