Here I Am

“Hey!” she greeted me over the phone the next morning. “Sorry that you guys lost! How’s Marcus?” she asked.

“Eh,” I said, grabbing a bottle of water of the fridge. “He’s doing okay. It isn’t too serious.”

“Good. That’s good. Too many injuries out there as of late. It’s getting ridiculous I tell you.”

I laughed weakly. “I agree.”

“Are you okay Corey?” she asked. She didn’t miss a thing.

“Hey what are you doing later today?”

Nothing actually. Riley is with his grandparents for the day so I’m free.”

“Want to come shoot pucks on me again?”

“Really?! Yes!” she sounded so excited.

I laughed. “I’ll pick you up in twenty.”

I had just gotten my goal gear on and she was skating around like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it made sense. She was the kind of girl that had one passion and stuck to it for forever. The more I got to know her, the more I noticed. She was one with familiarity, but she wasn’t against trying new things. I noticed a lot about her.

“So Delia,” I started off as she made her way back to the blue line.

“Yes Corey?” she asked.

“You know how when we first met, I asked you if you were related to any of the Staal brothers?”

“I do recall that, yes. Why?” she skated the length of the blue line.

“I talked to Jordan Staal yesterday. He’s on the Penguins?” I more or less asked, trying to see if she knew.

She shot at me and I easily gloved it. “I know who he is Corey. I looked them all up. But I can’t possibly be related to them. I mean, come on,” she scoffed at the idea.

“He came up to me in the locker room last night after the game,” I started as I hit another puck away from the goal crease.

“What did he have to say?” she asked and shot another, that one actually getting by me.

She didn’t celebrate, but stared at me, wanting me to go on. She was curious, I could see it in her eyes. Her bright blue eyes, that looked a lot like Jordan Staal’s eyes.

“He said you guys are cousins.”

“You would think I would remember a face like that.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just relaying what he said to Tazer, Krugs, and I last night.”

“Hm, okay then. I’ll have to conduct further research.”

“What is with you and Tazer and research?!” I exclaimed. “You two are crazy!”

She laughed and skated up to me. “Me? Crazy? No! Never! I don’t know why I like research. I just like looking things up. My apartment is full of recipes I looked up and eventually taped up to the walls of my kitchen.”

“Really?” I was intrigued, considering I had never seen Delia’s apartment.

She nodded, skating backwards, taking a puck back with her. “I like to cook and try new things.” I smiled to myself and my noticing skills.

“Like hang out with a bunch of hockey players,” I pointed out.

“You know it!” she smiled and shot another puck past me. “So you really think I could be related to these famous Staal brothers?”

I shrugged. “You have the same eyes and smile as Jordan does. But the Hurricanes are playing here next week. You can ask Eric then.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember them?” she asked, leaning on Kaner’s stick. “It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

I shrugged. “You were so young and you went through a big change.”

She shrugged back at me. “I’ll ask the Captain next week. We’ll see what he has to say about our relations.”

“You sound kind of scary,” I admitted.

She wiggled her eyebrows and shot another puck and because I wasn’t ready, went right past me.

“She shoots, she scores!” she held the stick over her head. “And the crowd goes wild!” she laughed.

I skated up to her and she stopped spinning and we stared at each other for a second, her blue eyes shining.

“Nice shot there,” I smirked.

“You’ve come over here I assume to celebrate with me?” she looked so innocent, but her innocent lips did not suggest anything innocent.

“Well what did you have in mind?” I asked.

She leaned in closer and I waited. She paused. “Ice cream!” she smiled and skated backwards. “Chocolate ice cream!”

And so ice cream it was.

We were walking down the street, ice cream in hand. “Want to go back to my place?” she asked, eating another spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

“Sure,” I said, intrigued by what her place looked like.

“It’s right here actually,” she said slowing to a rather small, brick apartment building.

She took out a key and we walked in. “How many rooms are there here?” I asked, taking another bite of my chocolate chip ice cream.

“There are only three floors and six rooms on each floor.”

“Wow,” I said. “Must be nice, not having so many people to annoy,” I elbowed her, to let her know I was joking.

“Please,” she dragged out the word. “They all come to my room, wanting to party with me.”

“Oh I bet,” I nodded my head like I believed it.

We walked the stairs to the third floor and she greeted some of her neighbors on the way.

She unlocked her door and waltzed inside while I looked around, memorizing every detail. Her walls were a bright blue, photographs of different things, like a flower, or the Sears Tower, all in black and white all over her walls.

“Did you take these?” I asked, looking at one of a daisy.

She laughed, emerging from her kitchen, which was indeed, covered in different recipes. “No way. I have a friend at the book store I work at sometimes, who takes pictures. I get these at a very discounted price.”

She had a simple black couch, but the pillows were colorful and beaded, making the room very warm and welcoming.

“I like it,” I said, wandering into her kitchen. “You must have at least one hundred recipes in here,” I mused, looking at a few.

She nodded. “I bring some over to Riley now and again and we bake. Though he usually gets bored halfway through and goes to study a book about lizards or something.”

“I’ve never really baked anything,” I admitted.

She looked shocked. “This is an outrage, but don’t worry Corey Crawford. I will help you learn to bake.”

I smiled. And that is how a baking party was planned.