Page 47 of Slapshot Baby

"Not for what you think. Not to pick up where the hospital left off. I just..." I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. "The apartment is too quiet. Everything in it belongs to a version of me I can't reach. You're the only person who talks to me like I'm the one who's actually here."

She doesn't answer for a long time.

"Your sister's there?"

"She's out getting groceries. She'll be back soon."

"This isn't..."

"It's not. I promise."

Another pause. I hear Biscuit bark once in the background. Then rustling. A zipper.

"If you try to kiss me again, I'm leaving."

"Understood."

"And I'm bringing my dog."

"Fine."

"And I'm not staying late."

"Whatever you want, Ava."

"Stop being agreeable. It's unsettling."

I almost smile. "See you soon."

The line goes dead. I set the phone on the cushion beside me and look around the penthouse. The photo on the wall. The clean furniture. The wide, empty rooms that echo.

Somewhere between the hospital and this couch, the question shifted.

It used to be: When do I get back on the ice?

Now there's a second one underneath it that's harder to answer:

Who am I while I wait?

I don't know yet. But soon, someone who might help me figure it out is walking through that door.

I get up and check if there's anything worth offering her in the fridge.

There isn't.

I order takeout instead.

9

AVA

Just Friends

Three rules for visiting the apartment of a man who got you pregnant and doesn't know it.

One: bring food, because showing up empty-handed makes it a date.

Two: bring the dog, because a chaperone with four legs and no filter is better than no chaperone at all.