The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 32: Harsh

~Ben~

Neither of us said a word after that. We sat in silent in the back of the cab, looking at opposite windows. I paid the driver for my half of the course and gave Ophelia a kiss on the top of her head before getting out of the car. I didn't look at Eleanor. What she said was harsh. Harsher than most things she ever told me. No matter what she thinks, it's not easy for me to leave Ophelia. If I could, I would never leave her for more than a few hours. I know it's impossible for me to be with her 24/7, but I still wish I could see her every day. That's the difference between Eleanor and me. I know I'll have to trust someone to take care of my daughter at one point. Eleanor never had to. The people she asked to babysit were always her friends or members of her family. She never entrusted her daughter to someone outside of her circle. I understand why it could be hard for her. I remember hearing Eleanor telling Ophelia she would protect her from everything bad in the world. We were in the hospital room a few hours after Ophelia was born and Eleanor thought I was asleep. She was still trying to figure out how to breastfeed properly when I heard her whisper those words in our daughter's ear. I remember promising myself the same thing. I would protect my daughter at all costs. For the first year of her life, I failed miserably. I told myself I would do anything to make up for that. I want to give Ophelia the best and I think that the daycare we visited today was just that. Apart from the love and protection she receives from her parents, that daycare will offer her the best. I really believe that.

That's what I have in mind when I sit into the relator's waiting room. Finding the best place for me and for her. The last thing I want to do right now is look at apartments and houses but it's still what I have to do. I contacted another realtor that a one of the guys on my team recommended. He's the one who sold him his current place in Garden City. "He's real good, man," he told me after giving me the realtor's card. "Real pro and all that." I thanked him and called the man the second I got back to the hotel that night. Finding a time we were both available turned out to be a challenge so I jumped on the first opportunity we had to meet. We only have one hour since I have to get to the arena for tonight's game. Eleanor was supposed to come, but after what happened today, I doubt I will see her.

"Mr. Johnson! I am Hugh Nichols, your new realtor. Why don't we step in my office and get right into it, yeah?" a tall man in a pale grey suit greets me. I get up from my chair and follow him.

Devon, the guy who recommended the realtor, was right. The second I stepped into his office, I knew he was a better fit than the last one. Mr. Nichols actually listened to what I had to say even writing down the most important criteria I mentioned him. He didn't show me anything today and I am glad. A part of me still wishes for Eleanor to help me choose my new place. I know it's stupid, but there's a part of my head that thinks I need her approval. "I'll start looking for houses and apartments that fit what you told me, and I'll contact you when I have a few options to show you, alright?" he said before getting up to shake my hand. I nodded and thanked him.

Exactly an hour after I stepped in Hugh Nichols' office, I am back in a cab.

"Players' entrance of the Nassau Coliseum," I tell the driver who looks at me with big eyes in the rearview mirror. I raise my eyebrows to ask if he understood me and he looks back in front of him, nodding.

I get to the arena four hours early. I try to spend the frustration of my conversation with Eleanor in the gym, but running on the treadmill only fuels it, so I decide to put on my skates and go on the ice instead. The bleachers are still empty, I spot only a few people finishing to clean up the place. After an hour, I hear someone cough loudly. I decide to ignore the sound, going for another lap around the ice instead.

"I tried to call you," a male voice shouts. "Johnson!" the voice tries again when I ignore it again. I stop immediately, recognizing Nathan's voice. He's holding a little boy about three or four in his arms and another one who seems a little older stands beside him. I skate towards them slowly, wondering what he could want with me.