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Nothing Gets Through Ch. 11

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Nothing Gets Through Ch. 11 © 2009 All rights reserved “So how was it?” Dee asked. Lani sighed. “Great, so long as Jason and I weren’t in the same room.” “Are you serious?” Dee asked. She shook her head as she cut up some cheese. The game would start soon, and she and Lani were prepping their snacks. The ice cream would stay in the freezer until it was necessary. Somehow, it was always necessary. “It’s been how many years now?” “Oh, eight or something.” Eight years since Jason had blamed her for the loss of his game and his potential career. Lani sighed again. “You know, I’ve been finding out about all of these superstitions and stuff,” Dee told her, “and I know it’s that sort-of-serious, sort-of-not thing, but I honestly can’t believe that Jason blames you for that. He didn’t even know you were coming to that game!” They’d had the conversation before, but she knew Lani needed to get it out of her system somehow. “I think that made it worse,” Lani said. “It was like I sucker punched him or something.” “That’s ridiculous.” Dee was firm. “I know,” said Lani. “I just . . . oh, God, I just don’t know what to say. I’ve tried apologizing, I’ve tried acting as though nothing’s wrong, I’ve tried to talk to him . . . he’s just . . . immovable. He won’t let me in. It’s like he wants to be that kocaeli escort angry at me.” “It’ll come back and bite him,” Dee said. “I hate to say it, but it will. Stuff like that always does.” “You’re probably right,” Lani agreed. “Sometimes I hope it’s not a big bite, other times I hope karma takes a big chunk out of ass.” Dee laughed. If Lani could joke like that, she was coming out of it a bit. “The party at Greg’s was nice,” Dee told her as the pre-game chatter continued. It was a home game, but hadn’t been on their plan. Just as well, Lani thought, since the roads were icy and she hadn’t wanted to drive. “It’s too bad you couldn’t come.” “Mmm-hmmm,” Lani said absently, nibbling a cracker. “What is it?” Dee muted the television. “What?” “Something else is on your mind,” Dee said. “So out with it.” “Well, it was just something I thought of while I was gone,” Lani said. Dee gestured for her to continue. “Okay, I’m going to sound like some stupid article out of Cosmo or something, but I realized that I don’t know that much about Dom.” “Like what?” Lani shrugged. “Like anything. I mean, I know what he likes in movies and music and stuff like that. But I don’t know much about him that isn’t in the team guide. He never talks about his family, or tells me if anything’s kocaeli escort bayan bothering him. I’m not looking for a big weepy session of talking, but well, it’s like he won’t let me in that far.” “So tell him,” Dee advised. “I don’t know how.” Lani rubbed her hands over her face. “It always seems like the wrong time. I’m busy, he’s busy; he has a game or a road trip or practice or something.” “There’s never a ‘right’ time,” Dee said. “You just have to pick a quiet time and tell him. He cares about you a lot, Lani. I can see it. I don’t think you’re out of line to tell him this. You’re serious, or getting serious, aren’t you?” “It feels like it,” Lani said. “Then tell him,” Dee said again, reassuringly. “I don’t think he scares easy.” x-x-x-x “So tell me,” said Lani, her voice light, “how serious are we?” She was curled against Dom as they lay in his bed. She’d come over the night before when she had returned from a late day at work to find Cherie entertaining the balding guy, the one in leopard-print briefs, and a woman. Lani wondered if she’d left a wake in her haste to leave. Dom narrowed his eyes and looked at her. “Uh-oh.” Lani smiled and brushed his hair back. “It’s been a couple of months. I was just wondering.” He rolled onto his side. “Well, I’m pretty izmit escort serious. That’s what everyone on the team says. It’s always in the write-ups: ‘Dominic Baddano, the serious-minded goaltender, was unavailable for comment.'” He grinned. “If it’s in the paper, it must be true.” She smiled but didn’t say anything, just absently stroked his hair and stared up at the wall. He propped himself up on an elbow. “Hey, I was just kidding. I don’t want you to be upset.” “I’m not,” she assured him. “It just occurred to me a while ago that I don’t . . . I like you a lot, but I feel like I don’t know you very well. You know how I’m scared of rats, how I insist on organizing my shoes and how I can’t sleep with a closet door open. You know about my brother. But I don’t even know how many siblings you have. You were so upset by that call you got before I left for Christmas, but you never said why.” Dom laid back down and stared at the ceiling. “My family history isn’t good,” he said after a few minutes. “I don’t generally talk about it; I don’t find it helps much, me or anyone else. I’m not ashamed of it; I just don’t like to talk about it.” “Okay,” said Lani. “You just . . . you know you can tell me if you want.” She laid her head on his chest and he held her tightly, inhaling the soft scent of coconut that he always associated with her. “I know.” The phone call had been from his father. The father that had wanted nothing to do with him while he grew up, but had suddenly had an urge to reconcile once Dom had hit the NHL—and a lucrative contract.

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