Harry Who?

I missed Harry more than anything, and getting his letter was exactly the lifesaver I needed to get me through the NWHL tryouts. I thought it was so cute he signed it my ‘frog prince’ and almost cried at the hilarious memory sparked by that name. Back when we were still living in LA, I had heard somewhere that his fans thought he looked like a frog, so I asked him what was up with that. He shrugged and said he didn’t know, and pretended not to think about it the rest of the day. That night, as we were getting ready for bed, I found him standing in front of the mirror looking at himself from different angles.

“Harry, what are you doing?” I laughed, and grabbed my toothbrush.

“I don’t look like a frog,” he said, and met my gaze in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. “Do I?”

I giggled and almost accidentally spit my toothpaste all over him. “I don’t know, maybe it’s your eyes?”

“My eyes?!” He leaned in closer and looked at his eyes, not an inch away from the mirror. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

I took my toothbrush out of my mouth and tried not to spit toothpaste all over him as I answered. “Nothing. Maybe it’s because they’re beautiful and green, like a frog?”

This seemed to cheer him up, and he turned to me with a cheeky grin. “You think frogs are beautiful?”

“Shut up and brush your teeth,” I laughed, and he dropped the subject.

Thinking back on it now, he kind of does have frog eyes? But I do think they’re pretty (his eyes, not frogs).

I kept re-reading his letter and wondering if I should write back. But what would I say? We text often enough, and to be honest, there isn’t really anything exciting going on in my life worth writing to Harry about. Like, ‘I got the mail today, woo! Most of it was for you and I gave it to your manager’s assistant when he dropped by. I went grocery shopping and avocado’s were on sale!’ Yeah, I don’t have anything interesting to write to Harry about, yet.

Tryouts for the New York Riveters had gone over okay, though I thought I could have done better. I was still getting back into the mindset of playing professionally, and had been a bit out of practice. I even met with Scott a few times and told him to really go hard on me, since he had sooo much experience playing pro hockey (that’s sarcasm, btw!). Although, he had been a bit distracted lately, since his team, the Pittsburgh Penguins, are in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

I may sound jealous, but I’m actually insanely proud of him! The tickets Harry somehow got me were amazing! And I’ve been to as many games as I can, it’s convenient they’re playing the New York Rangers in this series (though I have to see my ex, eww). It’s so much more nerve wracking watching them in person, especially knowing my twin brother is down there on the ice playing some of the most important hockey of his career.

When I got the call regarding whether or not I had made the team, I was home alone, in Harry’s New York apartment, listening to the one song they had recorded on repeat. It’s not that I liked the song a lot, it was nice enough, but I just missed his voice. The recording wasn’t even that good, since it was just a demo or whatever, but it was enough for me.

It seemed to take forever for the Riveters to get back to me, but their General Manager called me in the middle of the week to tell me they wanted me on the team.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!” I replied, keeping back tears, as Harry sang ‘I’m having your baby!’ in the background on my bad recording of ‘Kiwi.’ I struggled to turn it off before my new GM heard any more of it. “Sorry, I’m, uh, grocery shopping, it’s kind of loud.”

“That’s okay, I won’t take up too much of your time. I have several more people to call, although you were the last person to make the team, actually.” He said, and I wasn’t sure how to respond, but he continued. “I look forward to seeing you at practice Monday morning. Welcome to the Riveters, Ellie.”

“Thank you!” I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. When I got off the phone, I sat still for a moment and tried to take it all in. Was that real? Did that really just happen? I looked through my call history to make sure that conversation had actually just taken place, and that I hadn’t imagined it.

I called my parents first, since they were the ones who’d brought Scott and I to hockey practice at 6 AM when we were kids. We ended up talking for a while, and then I called Scott, but he was busy so I left a voicemail. I called a couple more people, mostly friends from college I’d played hockey with, and finally sat back down on the couch and tried to wrap my head around this.

‘I’m going to play professional hockey.’ I repeated in my head over and over again, and that giddy feeling of untethered excitement bubbled at a simmer.

The gentle whirring of the CD paused in the stereo snapped my brain back into focus. “Harry!” I picked up my phone and started to call him when I realized I’d forgotten him. I knew he probably wouldn’t answer, because he was usually either on set, or asleep, so I left him a message, and figured he’d get back to me when he had time. I wish he’d been here so we could celebrate together, but that would have to wait until he visits sometime next month.

Practice started the next week, and we all got there a little early to move our equipment into the locker room. The one downside of playing hockey, as opposed to another sport like tennis, or soccer, is the amount of stuff needed to play. Most of it is protective padding, so I’m extremely grateful, but having to lug it around is a pain.

I nearly dropped all of my stuff when I walked into the locker room and saw my jersey hanging up, waiting for me, with my usual number 7 on the back and my name across the bottom. Last names are usually at the top of jerseys, but the NWHL decided to put the names at the bottom, I guess so our hair doesn’t cover it up.

I got dressed as quickly as I could, and couldn’t wait to get out on the ice with my new teammates. It had been so long since I played on a team like this, and I was so excited to finally be back on the ice competitively. It was like the first day of school, getting to know new people, seeing some people I hadn’t seen in awhile. A bunch of us had played together or against each other in college, or other leagues, when we were younger.

I was winded by the end of practice, but that was just motivation to get back out there again and get into better shape. A couple other girls were planning on going out after practice, as an unofficial team bonding kind of thing, and I planned on tagging along, except someone pulled me aside to talk.

“The owner would like to meet you,” she said as I finished up getting dressed after practice.

‘Uh oh,’ I thought. ‘Only my first practice and I’m already in trouble’

I followed them down the hall to the section of the arena with offices; each team that used this arena seemed to have an office, and we finally stopped in front of the door with the Riveters’ logo on it. I let myself into the office and closed the door behind me.

It was quiet; there did not appear to be anyone else in the room, though the desk chair was facing away from me, and with it’s tall back I couldn’t see if there was anyone in it. Just as I was about to clear my throat or something to let my presence be known, the tall backed chair slowly started to turn.

‘Okay, this is oddly dramatic’ I thought, until I caught a glimpse of who was sitting in that chair. I was shocked, speechless, and could not even find it in me to say ‘hello’ to our new team owner.

“Hello Ellie, I’ve been expecting you,” he joked, but I didn’t find it very funny.

“Harry!” I hissed. “What are you doing here?” I wasn’t sure if I should be happy to see him, or angry because he was playing a trick on me.

“Didn’t my assistant explain that to you?” He asked and stood up from the chair. “I own the New York Riveters.”

Notes

So Harry now owns the team she plays for! Ellie is clearly not happy about this!

Boston Pride is actually my NWHL team (since I’m a New Englander) but New York just made sense for them. The Riveters have the amazing Amanda Kessel on their team, and her brother actually plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins (just like Ellie’s brother)!