The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 43: Sponsors and Toothbrushes

~Ben~~December~

Over the last few weeks, many things have changed. The most obvious is the space that keeps reducing in the main bedroom's closet. Every time Eleanor spends the night with me, she leaves a few more things here. The first thing I noticed was a toothbrush. To most people, a toothbrush is nothing, but not to Eleanor. She uses this special electric toothbrush that is supposed to help reduce dental plaque. Her dentist recommended it many years ago and she has refused to change brand ever since. That toothbrush requires a recharging kit that is quite massive, so she only has one. She had bought a disposable toothbrush to leave at my place, but, about a week ago, I saw the electric toothbrush standing beside the sink right next to mine, because, yes, she had me buy one. I didn't say anything to her at the time. It's only when we went to her apartment to pick up something for Ophelia that I noticed the disposable toothbrush in her bathroom. She had switched her toothbrushes which meant that she wanted to spend more time at my place than at hers. Not split her time equally like I heard her say over the phone once. She wanted to be with me, and it made the ball of happiness grow in my chest. It even started to glow, and it hadn't glowed since Ophelia was born. Since that day, she only spent three nights at her place. Even on the nights I was away, she stayed at my place.

Another thing that changed is that I now appear on TV multiple times a day. I was offered multiple sponsorships after making the front page of many magazines and newspapers because of my first goal. What probably helped too is that after that first goal, I added three others in the next five games. My name was slowly being recognized and so was my talent. Connor and I chose two companies for sponsorships: Under Armour and Bauer. I filmed an add about a week ago for Under Armour and it has been playing on repeat on every channel. My mother even called me to tell me she had seen it. They also gave me every piece of clothing I wanted. I walked around the store for about thirty minutes with Eleanor until our cart was full. We must have walked out with more than two thousand dollars' worth of equipment. They also offered Eleanor and Ophelia a shirt with the condition that I post a picture of the three of us on social media. I accepted but Eleanor was reluctant.

"I don't want to use our daughter to get money," she said, shaking her head. I had to admit she had a point. I kept to myself that she also kind of used our daughter to make money with her blog and her book. The fight wasn't worth having. She only accepted after I promised her it would be the first and only time I would involve Ophelia. Immediately after being posted, the picture gained close to a hundred thousand likes. My followers almost tripled after having already tripled after the first articles about me got out meaning that I had close to two hundred and fifty thousand followers. Now, people stop me on the street and ask for pictures and autographs. 

Coach Bailey didn't have any other choice than to make me play more. I was getting more attention than any other rookie player this season and I was loving it. It was finally happening. I had made it almost where I wanted it to. The only thing that was missing was the Stanley Cup. I was realistic enough to know that it probably wouldn't happen this year, but I was getting confident enough to think that it would one day.

Everything was perfect. Eleanor and I were in such a good place that I sometimes forgot about last year's troubles. She seemed to have put it behind her as well. Not once since we got back together did I hear her talk about having doubts or regretting her decision. I was on a roll with hockey. One night, after we had won 3 to 0 against the Blues from St. Louis who won the Stanley Cup last year, the coaches invited all players to celebrate. Even I could go.

"You already scored more goals than most experienced players. We probably wouldn't have this record sheet if you weren't on the team, so you're coming. One beer max, though," Coach Bailey told me after insisting on shaking my hand.

I barely slept that night in my hotel room. I would have spent the night on the phone with Eleanor. I wanted to describe every minute of every period that led to our victory even if it bored her to death. The excitement hadn't gone down even many hours after the game had ended and I wanted to share that with Eleanor, but the one-hour jetlag between St. Louis and New York meant that I called Eleanor at one am. We spoke for about ten minutes until she fell asleep on the other end of the line. She was happy for me, her tone showed it. She congratulated me and promised we would celebrate when I got back. And we did. We mixed a few things we had to celebrate like her birthday, my sponsorships, the team's many wins, and Bailey's new affection for me, and we left for an entire day. We rented a room in one of Manhattan's finest hotel and spent the day roaming around the city. It was perfect. It was our second real date since getting back together and it went  according to plan. Matthew had agreed to babysit Ophelia. I thought back to the days where I wasted so much energy hating this man. I was too blinded by his interest in Eleanor to see past it. Now, especially after losing Hannah, I am even more happy that he still is in Eleanor's life.

Every moment I had to spare, I read Eleanor's manuscript. She kept adding pages as she finished writing them, but I still managed to read the whole thing in about a month. I couldn't get out of the universe she had created, or we had created if you were close enough to see the resemblances between our lives and the characters, the second I opened the stack of paper. It felt good knowing she felt close enough to me to share this part of her that she had never showed me before. Realizing everything that changed between us since we got back together made me see why it didn't work before. We were too focused on ourselves, and I think it's normal, in a way, for two twenty year-olds with dreams like ours to concentrate on said dreams. We couldn't focus on the well-being of a romantic relationship. We are different now. Both our dreams came true while we had no one to share it with. That's when your dream evolves. It starts including someone. Someone to come to, someone who will support you, who will be proud of you and happy for you. It's when Eleanor finished editing her book and on the day it hit stores that her dream started involving me again. It's when I learned about my draft with the Islanders and on the day I signed my contract that I wished Eleanor was still with me the most. We have each other now, and we have Ophelia. Our dreams are complete.

The only thing missing in Eleanor's new book is the epilogue that she struggles to come up with. She cannot draw her inspiration from our story since we are not at our epilogue yet. We are not even halfway through the novel of our lives. We have so much more to accomplish before the end, but I guess I'll still feel that way when the end will near. I refrain from giving her ideas since I know she can do it on her own. Even tonight, when it's past midnight and she's still locked away in the office, I don't get up to see her. I keep replaying this like a mantra in my head until I hear the sound of something cracking. Again, and again, and again. I rush out of bed, neglecting to put on a t-shirt, and hurry down the stairs. She's in the kitchen, facing the sink. I can't see what she's doing, but I still hear the cracking sound. She still hasn't heard me, so I walk closer to her.

"Eggs. Stupid fucking eggs."