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Elaine and Gladys share a look with each other. A look with a lot of meaning behind it and I’m grateful when the timer goes off and my ice is removed. Sitting up slowly, I stand and carefully stretch, feeling the ache in my hamstrings as I do.
“Ladies, it was a pleasure, as always.”
“We’ll see you next time, Francine.”
After spending the afternoon at home, I make my way to work, ready for whatever the night might bring. The first thing the night brings is a questionable tripping call.
“Francine,” Steffan Morrow skates off the ice and into the penalty box, followed by a few more of his teammates. “Lovely to see you again.”
Both boxes are a little cramped at the moment, as the referees make sense of the fight – and several additional, smaller fights – that just took place on the ice. Coaches are appealing penalties, and all the while I’m trying to keep track of majors and minors to make sure that I have my timing correct. I can’t be distracted by gleaming brown eyes, helmet-and-sweat-ruffleddark hair, and an endearingly toothless smile. Just below his left eye is a cut that looks fresh.
“You should see a trainer after your shift on the ice.” I shouldn’t talk to him, but I do. He makes me want to break all the rules between us. “You’ve been cut.”
Steffan removes a glove and presses a finger to the spot below his eye, shock registering on his face when he looks down and sees blood on his fingers.
“Thanks Francine.” He looks to the ice before turning his gaze back to me. “Can I see you after the game?”
The chaos on the ice is settled and it’s just Steffan and I left in the box, my timer ticking down the last minute of his penalty. Leaning forward, I open the small door and as Steffan skates onto the ice, I respond. “You know where I park.”
After the game, I find myself in an all-night diner, seated in a booth across from Stefan. His suit jacket lays in the seat next to him, the buttons of his collar undone just enough to reveal a dark smattering of chest hair, sleeves rolled to his elbows and showing off the tattoos that cover his left arm.
“Did you grow up in Michigan?” Stefan asks, reaching for a fry from the plate in the middle of the table.
I don’t know why, but I feel relaxed around him. Like I can be myself. Not Francine the penalty box attendant, just…Francine.
“Born and raised. What about you?”
“I grew up across the river in Windsor,” he answers, “always wanted to play for the Union. How’d you end up in the penalty box?”
“Slashing.” I answer with a smile, dipping my fries into my chocolate shake.
“That’s my move,” his foot nudges mine under the table, or maybe I just imagined it. “But seriously, how does someone end up with that job?”
“I’ve always wanted to work in hockey. For as long as I can remember. I played a bit when I was a kid, but because of injury that didn’t pan out. So after college I sent applications all over the country and somehow got lucky enough to end up working for my hometown team.”
“Do you like it?” He asks, eyebrows pinched together. “Babysitting a bunch of hockey players?”
“I don’t necessarilymindit, but it’s not what I hoped I’d be doing.”
“What would you rather be doing?”
“Statistical analysis.”
Stefan sputters and coughs, nearly choking on his milkshake. “You’re kidding!”
“I’m not. I have an applied statistics degree from Michigan Tech.”
“And they have you in the box?!”
“I have my foot in the door. It’s a start. And there’s always the chance for something more.”
It’s a start. Someday I’ll find myself in my dream job, but for now I’ll continue to track penalties and, as Stefan put it, babysit hockey players.
“What about you?” I ask, “What would you be doing if you weren’t a hockey player?”
“I always wanted to be an electrician, like my dad,” Stefan leans back in the booth, a far away look on his face, “but I ended up in Halifax playing major junior hockey until the Union drafted me.”
What Stefan leaves unsaid is that he wasn’t just drafted by the Union, but drafted in the first round, and tenth overall. Dad was over the moon about that draft pick, and that draft class as a whole. Stefan and his usual line mate, and sometimes his plus one in the penalty box, Alex Hyryck have made names for themselves in Detroit. Stefan has been with the union since he was drafted, and Alex Hyryck signed as a free agent two years ago after spending the first part of his career in Pittsburgh.
