Stubborn

The camera gave a close up of a defeated Jordan. All the lines and creases that usually encompassed his arrogantly pleased face were now what illustrated the Penguins’ loss. I felt almost present at the recap of last night’s game as the glimmering sweat trailed its way down his red face, to his neck, and under his damp jersey. I was kind of glad I wasn’t there to see this all in person. I turned the volume up a bit as the slow motion video of Jordan skating to the bench switched to a split screen of the reporters on the sports television station.

“There’s no doubt about it,” said the one man, his definiteness expressed in the short, quick motions of his hands, “the Penguin’s miserable loss was because of Jordan Staal and his complete disinterest in the game last night.”

The other man, with a cornflower blue tie and hair perfectly parted down the middle, put his hand up to interject respectfully. “I’d have to disagree Steve.” Steve’s side of the screen switched back to replays of the game, all of Jordan either fumbling with the puck, giving faulty passes, or just plain missing a shot on an open net. My thumb had unconsciously made it into my mouth, relieving this strange tension as I chewed on the tip relentlessly. “Staal – like every hockey player in the NHL – has shown nothing but interest in all his games, including this one. You can see his determination to make the shots or passes that would assist his teammates, but the inability to fulfil them.” I continued watching with anxiety as it showed glimpses of Jordan swearing or banging his stick on the boards in frustration. “I wouldn’t call his terrible performance so much ‘disinterest’ as I would ‘distraction’.” The last word caught my attention, making me bite down harder on my finger. A clip of Jordan looking out at the stands was shown and I shifted my uncomfortable position on my bed. “There’s something going on in Jordan’s life affecting his game and I recommend he leave that behind in the change rooms if he wants the Penguins to pick up this win streak where they left off.”

The other half of the screen went back to Steve as he adjusted his tie. “Whatever the case, I doubt Dan Bylsma is going to let this slide after the string of injuries the team has been experiencing.” The other reporter nodded. “He’s probably already working Staal to the bone for their next game against Ottawa.”

I switched off the TV amidst the rumbling laughs of the two reporters and fell back against my bed. Could this have anything to do with me? I knew I was being difficult, but I didn’t think it would be enough to ruin someone else’s life. Jordan was supposed to have already found some other girl – one that would be in the stands with a custom made pink Staal jersey, supporting him with a series of annoying cheers and hip shakes. Or was I being completely self-involved thinking that all of this revolved around me? I was a (currently) unemployed college student that still felt she belonged in high school. And if this was, in fact, because of me then I didn’t want to face any of the Penguins again.

I sluggishly rolled off my bed and put on my shoes and jacket. Emma was at work and Aaron was…frankly, I had no idea where Aaron was, but I knew that they would eventually reunite back at the dorm and I didn’t want to be around when it happened. In the words of every self-help book, I needed some ‘time to myself’. However, alone time with whatever thoughts rested in the back of my mind, waiting for their chance to pop up and drive me insane, wasn’t going to help me. So, I decided to put in my headphones, crank up the rock music, and walk to the bookstore where I could get my mind off of – well – life.

My messenger bag seemed to weigh a ton on my shoulder, or maybe that was just the weight of the world. The crisp autumn air was beginning to stiffen as October turned into the middle of November right before my eyes. How had it gotten to this? I barely saw life these days like I used to. Experiencing the seasons change from blistering hot to son-of-a-bitch cold was what made up the year – knowing that things were progressing – but now I was stuck in this limbo of trying to move forward in life but also trying to avoid the future and it’s outcomes. Kicking my way through piles of fallen leaves, all varying in warm pallet colours, I avoided looking around too much in fear of seeing a Penguins poster or anything that reminded me of hockey and brought back those sullen feelings. If I could have it my way, I would erase Jordan from my memory. Everything would be so much easier.

The first thing I noticed once I stepped into the bookstore was that Casey wasn’t there. That made my mood fall slightly. I’d hoped I could hang out with him for a bit and talk about what new books had come in like we usually did. Instead, behind the counter was Liz who, I had soon realized, wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to talk to when you felt so blah, for lack of a better word. Her extremely upbeat demeanour brought out the Scrooge in anyone. I quickly rounded a corner into the stack of books before she could spot me and wave me down.

The second thing I noticed upon walking through the aisles was the scruffy, semi-bearded form of Max Talbot. He stood by the sports section, a soccer magazine flipped open in his hands. I went to take a step towards him, then hesitated remembering what had happened last night at the game. Jordan wasn’t one to open up about everything to the guys (something that still confused me), but if he had then I doubted Max would want to see me after their loss. I watched him standing there, reading his magazine and bobbing his head to music that wasn’t even playing, and knew that Max wasn’t the type of guy to give me the cold shoulder over something like what had happened between Jordan and I.

Mustering what remained of my very little courage, I approached him. “Hey.” The word was dragged out a little as though I had only just seen him. Little did he know I had been watching him for the past three minutes, wondering if I should talk to him. Could I get any creepier?

Max looked up from the magazine and over his shoulder at me before a broad smile spread on his lips. “Alex,” he said, the accent almost undetectable, as he closed the magazine. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

I nodded and teetered on the heels of my shoes. “Been kinda busy,” I replied. “You know, school and stuff.” I wasn’t sure if I should bring up the next part. “Um…sorry about the game last night.”

Max shrugged. “It’s not like it was your fault.” He chuckled and I smiled nervously. “Did you go?”

I shook my head.

His thick brows knit together. “I was sure I gave Aaron enough tickets.”

“Yeah, but I was busy…with school and stuff.” That excuse was really starting to get old. “I’ll definitely come to the next one though,” I added with another awkward smile.

“Hopefully the next one will be worth coming to.”

“I’m sure it will,” I said encouragingly. “You guys are probably just tired. We all get worn down sooner or later.” Max shrugged and nodded in a way of saying ‘I guess’. “I – uh – saw a report this morning about Jordan.” I looked up through my dark bangs, hoping Max didn’t notice the eager tone to my voice. All I needed to know was if he knew anything.

“Yeah, Staalsy’s been pretty off lately,” he said, almost in retrospect.

“Any idea why?” I tried to sound nonchalant.

“He’s probably just tired, like you said.” I nodded, relieved that Max didn’t give any indications that I had something to do with it. He put the magazine back on the shelf and picked up another one. I wondered if maybe that was a sign that he wanted to read in peace, but then he looked up and gave me another warm smile as though inviting me to read with him. “And it was bound to catch up with him sooner or later.”

I paused. “What was bound to catch up with him sooner or later?” My full attention was on Max’s answer, but I pretended to casually search through all the magazines.

“You know, the party life style.” I looked down, now understanding. Jordan was so out of control that even Max expected his eventual demise. Did that mean I was the breaking point? “I knew it wouldn’t last for long.”

I furrowed my brow, the magazine on home improvement hanging limply in my hands. “What do you mean?”

He shuffled through a few other magazines – sports, music, men’s health – before looking back at me. “You ask a lot of questions.” He grinned.

“Just curious,” I replied, putting the magazine back. “You’re the one answering them.”

Max chuckled. “Well, I’m sure Jordan wouldn’t care. He’s not the type of guy who regrets what he does, you know what I mean?” I nodded, expecting that kind of description of him. “And you two seem close enough. You saved his ass more times than anyone of us.” I forced out a smile, but the sudden stiffness in my body was obvious. “That’s the thing about Staalsy, he plays it cool and tough, but is a total pussy.” I snorted unexpectedly and he looked at me and winked. “You didn’t hear it from me, eh?”

“Hear what?” I asked, feigning ignorance and he laughed. “So you’re saying he puts up an act.”

“It’s more of a shield.” Max picked up another magazine. By the way this conversation was going, we’d be done the entire rack in only a few more minutes. “We didn’t think it would last this long, but he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.” I agreed wholeheartedly and he looked at me for a moment before focusing all his attention back on the Details in his hand. “He wasn’t always like that. Remember when I told you he’s the one that drags everyone out to clubs and bars?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, a year ago it was the other way around.” I didn’t know how to respond so I just stayed silent and waited for Max to continue. He surreptitiously looked at me from the corner of his eyes, probably deciding if he should continue or just keep his mouth shut. “His long time girlfriend left him for a player on the team who got traded last season.” Even though I was pretending to be intrigued by Miley Cyrus’s new scandal, I couldn’t help but let out a small, tight breath. It felt as though something blunt had hit me right in the gut. “After that he was…different. Always making us go out. Bringing girls back every other night, even when we were on the road. His whole person had changed into this cocky bastard.” I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t find the breath. “It just made everything easer for him to deal with, I guess.” He stopped to scratch the stubble under his chin. “But that kinda slowed down after you guys made that bet. Whatever happened with that?”

I swallowed hard, not expecting him to ask me something so suddenly. “I – uh – I won.” I raked back my hair and felt my mouth grow dry.

Max smirked. “I knew he couldn’t hold out for too long.” I didn’t reply. I couldn’t, not after everything I had learned. Everything Max had told me felt like a swift slap to the face. What I thought I knew had turned out to be a complete façade. I was now torn between two emotions towards Jordan; sympathy at what his girlfriend had done to him that left him so screwed up, but anger that I had to be one of the people he took that rage out on.

There was a silence between us where I tried to keep my composure.

Max put the Rolling Stone magazine down and turned his entire body to me. He slid his hands into the pockets of his pea coat and leaned forwards slightly. “I told you this because he’s like my brother. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea of him, especially people he’s close to.” Why did he keep saying ‘close’? Jordan and I weren’t close. “Just take care of him, okay?” He gave me another wink, but the playfulness in his smile was replaced with worry. Before I could bring any response to mind he moved passed my shoulder and out of the bookstore.