The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife

Chapter 4: Hot-Dogs and Happiness

~Eleanor~

When we pull up at the venue, there are photographers trying to snap pictures of the potential new major players. Who knows, maybe one of those pictures will be worth millions someday. Ben grabs my hand as we make our way through the front door. His grip is firm, I know he is a little mad. I heard the boyfriends of the girls who were supposed to ride with us complain when we were on the bus. He's mad, but he's mostly proud. He has been annoying me for a while now about how I should make people respect me. He's just upset that it had repercussions on him. It doesn't make any sense, but I know the guys will hold him responsible for what I did. A woman wearing a black suit welcomes us. Her big square glasses give her a severe look that even her warm smile cannot erase. She tries to get the boys attention, but they are too focused on the pictures on the walls. Everywhere I look, there are pictures of young men shaking the hand of older ones. Some are autographed, others aren't. I can hear names being called out from behind me. "He was drafted here, and he made it all the way to the NHL," "This one won the Stanley Cup with the Penguins. I didn't even know he was from BC," are a few examples. I look at Ben who is looking at the frames on the walls as well. I very well know that he is picturing his face on one of those pictures. A whistle startles me. It must happen often during practices because every player turns their attention to the coach who now wears an angry expression. He points to the severe-looking lady who explains how tonight will work. Then, we make our way into the room.

Usually, this place is used as an arena, but they placed tables in small circular sections around a stage. Even if the gala isn't supposed to start for twenty minutes, the lights are off making it hard to find our places. Every section represents a different team and there are 12 sections. It doesn't happen often at a hockey event, but I get to sit next to Ben. I am sitting between him and Olive. I thought they were going to go team by team, announcing every player selected and their Major Junior associated team, but it doesn't work that way. If I understood the lady correctly, every team announces their picks one at a time. The order in which the teams choose players is determined by their place on the leader board. The worse teams go first, and the best go last, so, technically, you don't want to be called out in the beginning since it means that no top team wanted you. While we wait for it to start, I listen to the guys debating what team will have drafted them. Each one has a favorite, but the chances that their top choice picked them is very low. At six, it finally starts.

It lasts forever. It is now nine pm and we are only halfway there. There are still five teams who have to announce their picks when they announce a dinner break. Thank god, Ben has been laughing at me since seven because my stomach is making a lot of noise. We get up and walk towards the food table. It is filled with hot-dogs and all the possible things to put on them, mayo, ketchup, relish, mustard, onions, cabbage and all sorts of things I don't recognize.

"Hot-dogs, really? They don't think we eat enough when we go to games?" Everyone who heard me laughs. No matter what I say, I grab two, fill them with mayonnaise and ketchup, grab a few potato chips before waiting for Ben to finish filling his plate. He has three mustard-filled hot-dogs. I give him an unsure look. He raises his eyebrows.

"You better not put mustard all over your white shirt. You'll look dumb as hell when they call you up on stage." His mouth widens. He didn't think about that. He goes back at the table. He comes back a few seconds later holding a fork and a knife. I burst out laughing and promise myself to take as many pictures of him eating his hot-dogs with a fork as I can.

They give us fifteen minutes to eat our hot-dogs which, for me, is plenty. I was so hungry I ate mine in five. It took Ben longer than me which is saying something. Maybe I should have eaten mine with a fork, it seemed to have slowed him down. After those fifteen minutes, we go back to the same schedule as before. Ben's name is called in the last ones. As time went by, I could feel him becoming more and more nervous as teams announced their picks. He had to watch his teammates being called out one by one, there are only five left in our section. Two of them stop after this year, so this leaves three hopeful and very stressed out young men. When there were only two teams left, he grabbed my hand. He placed our hands in his lap. He tapped his foot on the floor so fast that it felt as if the earth was shaking. The second to last coach walks up the stage.

"I am Travis Freeman, head coach of the Windsor Spitfires. Last year, we came in third at the Memorial Cup. Our drafted players for next year are: Julian Nash, Pietro Avilov, Adam Richardson and Benjamin Johnson. Thank you." Finally. It feels like the world has been lifted off my shoulders. Right now, I do not care where he'll be next year, all that matter is that he was drafted. I know he is relieved too. When he turns to look at me, he is nodding his head rapidly. I place my hand on his cheek and nod my head as well.

"You did it." My eyes fill with tears, I have rarely seen Ben as happy as he is now, and it fills me with so much pride my heart could burst. Seeing him walk on stage to shake the hand of his new coach, have his picture taken, watching him go backstage, it all feels surreal, like I am watching someone else's life, it feels like I am watching from afar, like the past five minutes have not changed my entire future. Windsor, Ontario is about as far as another country in my opinion. For tonight, I decide to forget about the stress this adds me to focus on Ben's huge accomplishment. Ever since I met him, when he talked about his future, he always mentioned the Major Junior hockey teams he would love to play for and, even if the Spitfires were not on that list, I know that it doesn't matter to him right now. The only thing that does is that he will play for a Major Junior team. That is the reason why he quit school, why he gets up a five in the morning to work out, why he leaves for long periods of time, why he endures long bus rides and cheap, dirty motels. Right now, I decide that no matter what I have to do, we will spend next year together, whether it is in Windsor or anywhere else. I would go anywhere for that man.