Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

Vi appears in the doorway. “That’s okay. It might take a while. You can head back to Toronto if you want and I’ll bring Buck back with me.”

“Won’t it be outta your way if you have to take me to the airport?” I ask.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

My head hurts too much to argue, so I let Randy deal with the rental vehicle. I have to wonder if he’s going to make a stop in Guelph. If that’s the case, he should probably stop at a sports store and grab a cup, just in case.

Violet runs back into the cottage once the car is loaded to grab something she forgot. She comes back holding the orange Play-Doh sculpture with the superhero cape. She hugs it, then tucks it safely into the backseat with a sweatshirt wrapped around it.

“Do you wanna explain that?”

She pats the head. “It’s the Super MC. It’s an homage.”

I shouldn’t ask the next question. I’m almost positive I don’t want the answer. “An homage to what?”

“The near-fatal strangling of Alex’s MC when I made it into a superhero. It’s a long story. I promise you don’t want to hear it, but someone might tell it at our wedding—if we end up having a wedding. I hope I can convince him to elope.”

I was right. I didn’t need to know any of that.***We find our way to a hospital in Bracebridge. It’s small compared to the ones in Chicago, but the people are nice, as is typical in Canada. Someone recognizes my name, and Violet knows all the right things to say, so they see me almost right away. Head injuries always take precedence. I’m concussed, but only mildly. My nose is broken, and the gash on my forehead takes six stitches to close. Up until today, I’d managed to get by without breaking any parts of my face since I got my teeth knocked out in high school. Figures it’d be Waters who changed that.

I get the usual spiel about having someone wake me up every couple of hours. A doctor sets my nose and bandages it. The black eyes haven’t appeared yet, but I’m sure they’re coming. While I wait for someone to give me the requisite painkillers and sign off for me to leave, I check my messages. I have emails from Amber that, had I checked them yesterday, would have given me the information I needed about the fundraiser and why it might not be the best idea. I wish I’d read them sooner. Or checked my voice mail, since I missed a call from her as well. Sometimes I feel as dumb as people assume I am.

I’ve got nothing from Sunny. I hope Bushman isn’t consoling her right now. I want to message her, but at the same time I don’t. I’m conflicted, and it sucks.

From the hospital we drive toward Toronto. The canvas of pale blue dotted with soft white turns pink at the edges as the sun starts to sink behind the tall trees lining the highway. It’s already late; by the time we get to Toronto it’ll be dark. I feel bad that Vi has to drive. I’m on pain meds, so I’m not safe behind the wheel.

“I’mma call the airline and see if I can get a flight out tonight.”

“Why don’t you come back to Guelph with me?”

“I don’t see the point. It’s not gonna change anything. Sunny’s still not gonna trust me, and Waters and Lily are still gonna hate me.”

“Lily doesn’t hate you.”

“Randy said the same thing. I have a hard time believing it, though.”

“Even she was trying to get Alex to calm down. Randy’s a whole different story. I don’t know what happened with those two, but man, is she scorned. You’re also lucky I’m the one who went through your bedroom, not Alex. Do you and Sunny even know what a garbage can is?”

“Why were you in Sunny’s bedroom?”

“Alex wanted me to check her poison ivy. Poor thing. Her boobs look bad.” Vi grabs her own boob as if she’s suffering sympathy pains. “Anyway, I don’t want Alex to be a prison wife. If he’d found those condoms after seeing the pictures at the fundraiser, you’d have a lot more than a broken nose.”

I want to mention the lack of fairness, considering what I walked in on with Vi and Waters, but I get that this is a different situation, and my fuck-ups outnumber his.

When we get close to Toronto, I insist she take me to the airport.

“You’re sure you want to do that? Maybe you should get a hotel room for the night and sleep on it.”

“I have things I need to deal with when I get home.”

“Are you still going through with that fundraiser?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I think about that Michael kid and how much harder his life is than mine. “Yeah. I’m still gonna do it.”