The Penalty Box (26 page)

Katie lay on
the narrow, lumpy bed of her childhood, staring at the water stain shaped like a sheep on the ceiling. Normally, the smell of her mother's pot roast wafting beneath the bedroom door would have set her stomach grumbling in anticipation. Tonight it made her queasy.

Her mind had been blank as she watched Paul leaving the rink. She went to collect Tuck, who loved playing the video games in the rink's lobby. In a daze, they'd come straight home, Tuck's raving about ice time going in one ear and out the other. She didn't have the energy to respond or refute; all she cared about was getting to her mother's house as quickly as possible and hiding in her room.

How many times had she lay here like this as a teenager, crying lonely tears? She wittled away hours visualizing herself thin and successful, plotting her escape from this town that felt like a prison. And now here she was ten years later, doing the same thing. The only difference was, she
was
thin and successful. Did she actually owe that to Didsbury, the way Paul claimed? She wasn't sure. But the yearning for escape—especially now—remained as strong as ever.

She
was supposed to break up with Paul. His actions had shocked her, not because she hated having the tables turned, but because he had so perfectly anticipated everything she was planning to say. Was she that transparent? Or had her reservations become a broken record he could recite verbatim? She suspected it was a bit of both.

“Katie?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Mom?”

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Katie hesitated. “I'm not really hungry tonight. Thanks.” She could practically see her mother's puzzled face on the other side of the door as she tried to figure out the appropriate response.

“Can I come in a minute, honey?”

“Sure,” Katie made herself say.

Her mother entered and perched beside Katie on the bed, taking her hand. As a little girl, Katie had always loved her mother's long, delicate fingers, thinking her hands so elegant. She still thought so, though time was beginning to mottle the skin. It was hard watching her mom age.

“What's going on?” her mother asked gently.

“Nothing. I'm just tired, that's all.”

Her mother smoothed her brow. “You sure that's all?”

“Yes.” Katie felt her heart cracking. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stave off tears. It didn't work; a teardrop worked its way out of the corner of her right eye, heading toward her ear.

“Talk to me, Katie.”

“It's nothing,” Katie tried to say dismissively, but the words lodged in her throat, coming out like a croak. What was
happening
to her? She wanted to wail, to put her head in her mother's lap and weep over how mean and dumb boys were. It was an adolescent rite of passage she'd heard about but had never experienced. Until now.

“It's Paul,” she sobbed. “We broke up.”

“Oh, Katie.” Her mother sounded upset. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” Katie sniffed. “Actually, I do. I fucked up.”

“Language, dear,” her mother tut-tutted.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Katie chanted defiantly. “If I want to say it, I'll say it!”

“You're right, honey. You ‘fuck' away all you want.”

Katie lifted her head, catching her mother's eye. They both began laughing before Katie dissolved back into tears. “See, this is why I didn't want to get involved! Because I
knew
it would end badly and I knew I'd wind up in pain and I worked so hard to get my life in order!” She curled onto her side, hiccupping with sobs.

“You can't avoid pain, honey,” her mother pointed out tenderly as she stroked Katie's hair. “However you fu—messed things up with Paul, I'm sure you can fix them.”

“That's the thing. I don't know if I want to.” She flopped onto her stomach with a howl, burying her face in her pillow. “I don't know what I want!”

“You'll figure it out,” her mother soothed. “I know you will. You always do.”

Katie raised her tear-stained face. She hated her mother's unswerving faith in her. It felt like pressure. “What if I don't?”

“You will.”

“But what if I
don't
?”

Her mother sighed. “I guess I'll just stop loving you.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart?” Her mother sounded bemused. “If it's meant to be, it'll be. But first, you really
do
have to figure out what you want.”

Big. Brass. Balls.
That's the only explanation Paul could come up with for Liz Flaherty breezing through the door of the Penalty Box, looking like she owned the place. As if to confirm he wasn't hallucinating, Paul glanced at Frank, whose shocked expression mirrored his own.

“She's got some pair on her, that one,” Frank noted with the faintest hint of admiration in his voice.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Paul's guts churned as he watched Liz approach. You ruined my fucking life, he wanted to yell. You and your goddamn sock trick! He wished he could shake her until her teeth rattled in her head. He knew Liz was only partially to blame, but still. It felt good to have a target for his rage. The loss of Katie had left a hole inside him he needed to fill. Anger seemed as good a choice as any.

“Paul.” Liz looked surprised when she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and he stepped out of reach. “Oh, now, don't be that way, lamby.”

So, that was how it was going to be: Liz playing cutesy, him warding her off. Who had the energy for this shit? Seriously. But what was his choice? Not playing along would prolong the torture. And since he wanted her the hell out of there, he gave in.

“What do you want, Liz?”

Her gaze was seductive. “Do you mean in general, or to drink?”

“To
drink
.”

“My usual,” she said coolly, looking at Frank. “A Grey Goose martini.” She turned back to Paul. “He's so dumb.”

For a split second, the sour look that streaked across her face made her look ugly.
What did I ever see in her?
Paul wondered. She'd always been a bitch.
Yeah, but a popular one.
A pretty, vivacious, popular bitch who bent over backward—sometimes literally—to please him in high school. Disgust for his adolescent self filled him.

“How's your petition going?” he couldn't resist asking.

“Pretty well.” Her expression was serious as she took a long, slow sip of her drink. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

Paul chuckled meanly. “Back at ya, baby.”

Liz did a small double take. “Meaning—?”

“If I find out you're spreading any more lies about me and Katie Fisher, you're going to be sorry.”

Liz looked amused. “What are you going to do, Paul? Bore me to death with one of your NHL stories?”

“I mean it, Liz. Leave Katie alone.”

“I didn't do anything!”

“Right. Except spread it around that she was the reason Tuck was getting so much ice time, not to mention giving her a pair of socks I left at your house
months
ago.”

“Was she upset?” Liz batted her eyes innocently. “I
so
didn't mean to upset her. Truly.”

“You didn't. We had a good laugh over what a mess you are.”

Maybe he was imagining it, but he could have swore Liz gave the slightest of flinches. Good. He wanted her to flinch, to feel guilty. Perhaps then she'd leave him the hell alone once and for all.

“See, this is what I don't get,” Paul continued, sliding onto the stool next to hers. “What did you think would happen? You'd give Katie the socks and she'd think we were still sleeping together and we'd break up and what—? You and I would get together?”

“Maybe,” Liz said. “After you had a chance to come to your senses.”

“I came to my senses the morning after the reunion, Liz. That's what you don't seem to get. No offense, but you're pathetic.”

Liz chortled. “Look who the hell's talking!”

“Do you think insulting me is going to make me want you?”

For the first time in a long time, Liz looked vulnerable. “You know I don't mean it,” she said miserably.

“I don't care if you mean it or not. Just leave me alone, okay?”

“This isn't over, Paul.” There was a brittle determination in her voice he knew only too well.

“Yeah, it is.” Paul's voice was firm as he removed her drink from her hand. “Leave.”

“What!”

“You heard me. As of today, you are banned from the Penalty Box.”

“You can't do that!”

“Yes, I can. Cross the threshold again and I'll have you arrested for soliciting.”

“I hate you!” Liz hissed.

“Glad to hear it.” Paul patted her shoulder as he slid off the bar stool and sauntered away. “Have a good one.”

 

 

“Mom, I want
you to meet Snake.”

Katie held her breath as her mother stepped forward to stiffly shake hands with the tattooed giant who had just conveyed her daughter home from rehab on a chopper. You had to hand it to Mina; she sure knew how to stop conversation. The frozen smile on her mother's face was painful for Katie to see.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Snake,” said her mother.

Mina stifled a snort and Katie cut her with her eyes. Couldn't Mina at least give her a little credit for trying? Apparently not, if the smirk plastered to her sister's pretty face was any indication. How Katie longed to slap it off!

“Snake's putting me and Tuck up till we find our own place,” Mina continued.

Katie's mother looked confused. “But—”

“I know you prepped the sewing room for me, Ma,” said Mina, catching Katie's eye, “but really, it's better this way.”

“Oh,” said Katie's mother, looking crestfallen.

“You could have let her know before now,” Katie pointed out under her breath.

“Mind your own business,” Mina muttered, craning her neck as she tried to peer into the kitchen. “So, where's my son?”

Katie went to the bottom of the stairs. “Tuck!” she called up, surprised to find herself blindsided by tears. She brushed them away. “Your mom's here!”

The day she and her mother thought might never come had indeed arrived: Mina was out of rehab and was taking Tuck away to live with her and Snake. Melancholy had hung over the house for the better part of a week, much of it generated by Tuck, who protested to anyone who would listen that the last thing he wanted to do was go live with his mother. Katie tried everything she could to soothe him, from promising she'd still attend all his hockey games to equipping him with his own cell phone so he could call her whenever he wanted. Yet nothing seemed to calm the storm raging inside her nephew, who grew more agitated the closer it drew to Mina's release date. Now that it was here, Katie wasn't surprised he'd taken to hiding in his room. If she thought she could get away with it, she'd do the same thing.

“Tuck!” Katie shouted again. “Your mom's here!”

The bedroom door flew open. “I'm not deaf!” Tuck shouted down the stairs. Katie turned back to the adults, chastened.

“I believe he'll be joining us in just a moment,” she said.

Tuck's heavy, reluctant tread on the steps echoed in the hall. He appeared in the living room unsmiling, arms stiff at his sides as if he were a robot.

“There's my baby,” Mina cooed, flying to him and folding him into an embrace. If it bothered her that Tuck did nothing to return the gesture, she didn't show it. Instead, she broke contact and wheeled him around so he was facing Snake. “Tuck, this is Snake. We're going to live with him till we find our own place.”

Katie felt sick. She couldn't believe this was the first time Tuck and Snake were meeting. You didn't do that to a kid, just thrust someone on them like that! She looked down as her tears tried to return. She lifted her head to see Snake stepping forward, extending his hand.

“Pleased to meet ya, little guy.”

Katie had to give him credit; he was trying. The same couldn't be said for Tuck, who refused to shake his hand and returned the friendly gesture by rolling his eyes. Mina cuffed him in the head. “Where the hell are your manners?”

“It's cool,” Snake cut in quickly, shooting Mina a questioning glance. “Little guy's a bit overwhelmed. I can dig that.” He tried another tack: “Wanna check out my chopper?”