Page 2 of Icing on Top

We were a well-oiled machine by now, and had her gear switched out in mere minutes. Poor Zack was still struggling to get his right leg pad on, rolling around on the floor like a turtle stuck on its shell. I’d seen his mom rush off to get his little brother to the bathrooms right before Zoe had called for a water break.

“All set, Tot?” I lightly tapped the hard plastic of Charlie’s goalie mask and she nodded. “Good. I’m gonna go help Zack really quick. Remember—”

“Watch the puck, not the player,” she recited.

I smiled proudly. “Go get ‘em.”

Pushing myself up with a groan—metal bleachers really were not made for backs like mine—I made my way to Zack. He’d managed to get the other leg pad on, but now he couldn’t get up.

“Here ya go, bud.” I bent down to hook my hands under his arms and lifted him back up onto his skates. Once I was sure he was steady, I reached for his blocker and catcher gloves and helped him slide them on.

“You excited to try out playing goalie this year?”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a big grin. “My mama says you played goalie in the NHL. Is that true?”

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”

Or at least, that’s how it felt.

Zack looked at me the same way Charlie had looked at Zoe. “That’s so cool.”

“Zack. Are you ready?” Zoe asked, leaning against the wall.

I was old news at the prospect of getting to be in goal. “I’m ready, Coach!”

He did his best to ‘run’ to the door, which wasn’t the easiest in goalie gear. It was extremely amusing to watch, though.

Charlie was already in her goal, mucking up the crease like I’d taught her. Jeez, the little tot was gonna make me tear up at a damn kids’ practice.

Stepping up to the boards, I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Let’s go, Charlie!”

She gave a quick nod of her head in acknowledgement, the goalie mask bouncing a little, and then crouched into her ready position, focused now on the game at hand. I made a mental note to tighten her mask after practice.

The kids were rusty, and understandably so; for the majority of them, it was their first time back on the ice after months off for the summer. Not everyone had full-time access to a hockey rink like Charlie unless they wanted to pay exorbitant amounts of money on private rink time and personal trainers. There were a handful of parents that did, though. Those fully committed to hockey being their child’s life and—hopefully—future career.

While I would love to see Charlie go pro, I would never push her in that direction. She could play hockey for as long as it made her happy. And right now, she was utterly obsessed. Which, of course, made me pretty damn happy. If anything, her dedication to the sport is what kept me going when I started to question whether running a hockey rink was worth all of the effort. I’d do whatever I could to stay competitive with other rinks if it meant Charlie always had a place to play.

One of the newer players broke away with the puck, the defensemen scrambling to catch up to him. Charlie made minuscule adjustments as he swerved back and forth, looking for an opening before finally taking a shot.

Smack.

Right in the glove.

“There ya go, Tot! Nice save!”

I smiled to myself when she shimmied her shoulders in a little victory dance, but then it was back to business.

The rest of the scrimmage followed in a similar pattern. I called out words of encouragement whenever a puck made it past Zack, and cheered just as loudly whenever he blocked the next three. Charlie didn’t let in a single goal.

Zoe blew her whistle to signal the end of the game and called the team to center ice for a chat. Parents and siblings began to shift, gathering their things and prepping to help their players remove gear. I was organizing Charlie’s regular mask and gloves to one side of the bag when one of the other dads, Tom, approached.

“Hey, Jeremiah. A couple of us fathers are gonna try to get together Friday night for a beer and to watch the game. You in?”

I pressed my lips together as I sat upright. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

While I liked the idea of spending time with the other dads outside of games, it just wasn’t feasible for me. There was no way I could spring it on my parents or Sadie’s mom at the last minute to watch Charlie. Besides, I doubted I’d be much fun if I was just thinking about my daughter all night and counting down until I got to leave and be with her again. No, it was best to just have a night in with my little girl.

“No worries, man.” Tom waved his hand. “We’ll catch you another time.”