7

Ty

I played one hell of a game tonight. God, it feels good to sink a goal right through the five-hole, take the goalie off guard and watch that signal light up when the puck hits the net. My teammates pound me on the shoulder as we all walk back to the locker room afterward, and I wonder why the fuck I'm not feeling more excited.

We haven't lost a game yet, which I know isn't saying much because it's barely November, but I should be on a huge high after scoring and maintaining our streak. Some members of the press stop me in the hall on my way to the locker room. The reporter seems comically short standing on the ground next to me in my skates, but it's their choice not to wait for me until I've showered.

"Ty, how's it feel to score your 250th goal for the NHL?"

"Was tonight 250? I seriously hadn't been keeping track. I've just been loving playing for the Fury and as you know, I've got a great group of guys out there with me." It's weird that I didn't realize I was close to that milestone. This is my tenth year of pro hockey. I signed right out of high school. Shit, I'm getting old. The reporter is blinking at me and I realize I missed a question. "I'm sorry. I'm still letting it sink in that I shot 250 goals. Could you repeat the question?" I flash my two-dimple smile and I know they'll forgive anything.

"Sure thing, Ty. We asked what you think about the election. Your wife running for judge?"

"Aw man, my wife is going to be an amazing judge! She's a ferocious lawyer and loves defending the underdog in court. It just so happens we have an off day on Election Day, so I'll be thrilled to stand by her side while the numbers come in."

The reporter looks at me confused. "You're not worried her career will get in the way of your playoff hopes?"

Now it's my turn to be confused. "How so? You know we made it to the quarterfinals the year my wife took Olympic gold in rowing, right?” The reporter starts to make some comment, but I cut them off. “Listen. Juniper Jones is a force of nature. I'm so fucking proud of her. We push each other. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go shower."

I hate these interviews. What do they want me to say? That I'd rather have some puck bunny who lives for my career and follows me everywhere? Honestly, I've had my share of those women. Juniper is my soul mate. I don't give a shit if that sounds cheesy. I felt a connection with her that first minute we met. I don’t need her doting on me. I just need her to be herself.

I hurry through the showers and find a quiet room to call home. Shit's been insane with my family and I haven't been in Pittsburgh at all to help with any of it. My brother Tim is losing his mind at Juniper leaving the firm and Thatcher is freaking the fuck out because Emma says she doesn't want to keep the baby. Something about pregnancy being too high risk with her epilepsy.

I don't know what to say to any of them. All I know is when I call Juniper, she can tell me about her campaign stuff and I can pretend I understand what she's talking about, and remind her that she's got my vote. Always.

I look at the time as the phone rings and rings. Juniper isn't picking up. It's not that late. We put away that game in under 3 hours. "Hello?" She finally answers, and I can tell I woke her up.

"Aw, JJ, I'm sorry. Were you asleep?"

"Shit," she says. "I don’t know why I'm this tired. I mean, I've been going hard but not that hard. I didn't even row today."

"You missed your workout?" Juniper has never missed a workout since I've known her. She holds meetings from the indoor rowing machine sometimes if shit is really busy, with her assistant taking notes while Juniper bangs out a few miles. "You feeling ok, babe?"

"Hmm," she says. "I guess I'm not. I'm really run down. When are you back?"

I promise her I'll take the redeye, fly home before the team. My JJ needs me. "I'm going to take you to the doctor tomorrow morning. Get some sleep, babe. Whatever you were going to do tonight can wait." She yawns, and I try not to worry. I clean out my hotel room quickly and text my manager that I'm skipping town early. As I hail a cab to the airport, I feel this sinking sense of dread that I'm not where I'm supposed to be.

I know this is my job. It's not like I'm out of town getting laid or sitting on the beach somewhere. But my family needs me and I’m not there. That’s not ok. They've all come to expect me to not be helpful, and more and more, that pisses me off. I stare out the window, thinking how much my shoulder hurts and how empty my win feels knowing the people I love are hurting, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.


Juniper is out cold when I get home, and in the furor of Election Day, she won't agree to go with me to the doctor in the morning. We walk to the polls together and I don't even pull on a baseball cap. I want to be seen voting for my JJ. I hear some of the poll workers explaining to people in line that they can't just show up here to vote--they have to go vote in their own neighborhood. Once I click the button I walk over and sign some autographs, encourage them to go back to make their vote count.

Some of them follow us when we start driving to her campaign headquarters, but I don't mind that either. I promise Juniper I'll put them all to work for her when we arrive. It weighs on me that she has dark circles under her eyes. Alice is chipper as always, greeting us with breakfast sandwiches and bunches of hot coffee, but I see her frown when Juniper runs off to the bathroom to throw up. "It's just nerves, right?" I ask my brother Tim. He scratches his chin and makes eye contact with Alice. Whatever. I don't have time to interpret their secret eyeball language.

I start making calls for Juniper. I love this part of helping her campaign. Every time I get a potential voter on the phone, I reassure them that yes, it's really me. Yes, hockey players care about political stuff…it helps when my hot-ass wife is the one running for office.

By mid-day, it seems like we are doing really well and I convince Juniper to come sit and have a sandwich. She really seems to perk up after that.

I spend some time goofing off with my brothers around the campaign office. I can’t think of the last time we all spent time together like this. It must have been since before pre-season started for me.

Emma stayed home today. Thatcher said she doesn't want to get involved, since her dad is running for re-election, too, and she kind of hates her dad. We don't talk about the pregnancy thing. From what Tim said, Emma still doesn't want to go through with it…but she's sort of on a timeline for when she has to make that choice. My guts ache for Thatcher, thinking about his position right now. It's not like he's always wanted to be a dad, but he and Emma have a good thing going. He's really great with our nephew. I shake my head and get back to the phones. No time to worry about all this stuff today.


The polls close at 8 and Juniper is nowhere to be seen. Some folks are here from the news, which makes me really wish we had Emma around, because she knows how to talk to these reporters. Emma works for a huge newspaper and her writing is the main reason I ever read anything anymore. Television reporters give Emma more space if she’s ever hanging around me, since she works with them at the Post.

I guess I’m the next best thing to Juniper, wherever she is, and I sidle up to talk to the press. “Hey, guys, what's the good news?" I ask them, hoping I can buy some time until my wife turns up. Where the hell would she go right now? I wonder.

I shoot the shit with some of the reporters, trying to keep the conversation related to the Fury since I have no idea how to talk about politics stuff. It’s a little weird to me that being a judge is something you have to get voted into, not promoted. But whatever, Juniper will kick ass either way. I'm neck deep in a conversation about our playoff potential for this season when I finally see Juniper coming down the hallway. She must have been in the back doing…god knows what.

Her campaign manager-slash-rowing coach runs up and grabs her arm. He shouts excitedly, "Did you see the reports, Juniper? You're in!"

She doesn't answer him. She must be overcome with happiness. I can relate. Sometimes it takes a minute for good news to sink in. She makes a face at me, connects with my eyes and locks me in place with her stare. “JJ,” I say, walking toward her. "Did you hear Derek? You won, babe."

"I'm pregnant," she says, and I look down to see she's holding a white plastic stick. Camera flashes start popping and all the sound leaves as the walls close in around me. The stick in her hand says pregnant in bright blue letters.