“Like I'm getting old.”
I laugh, and she glares at me. “Sweetness, this is like a blessing in disguise. Now, we have the entire day to celebrate your birthday.”
“We aren't going out tonight, Jake.”
“Why not?” I don't see why we can't.
“I'm not leaving that concussed boy at home by himself.” She says it like it's the most absurd thing she's ever heard.
Drake and I both say that he'll be fine at the same time, but Emily shakes her head. We walk into our apartment. Drake goes straight to his room to get out of his clothes, which had some blood on them, while Emily heads to our bedroom.
“I'm not going to change my mind, Jake,” she says before I can even open my mouth as she starts to change her clothes. “You aren't going to be here today, so we wouldn't really celebrate anyway. Cancel whatever reservations you have because I'm staying here with Drake. By the way, he wants tickets to your next game.”
“I already gave him the tickets. He'll be fine here by himself, though.”
Out of her work clothes, she walks over to me and places her arms around my neck. “We don't need to do anything special for my birthday, love. Just be back for supper. That's all I want.” She gives me a quick kiss. “Now go do whatever you have to do.”
I kiss her one more time and go about my day, running various errands. When I'm on my last one and just about to head home, Steve calls. A bunch of the guys are meeting at his place to set up a new entertainment system, and he wants me to come over to help.
“I'm supposed to be home for dinner in an hour,” I tell him.
“It won't take that long with all of us here helping. Just come on. We'll have you home on time.”
In the background, I hear the guys chanting my name. “Fine. I'm on my way.”
What starts as setting up an entertainment system, turns into testing it out, and somehow that turns into us going to a bar at ten at night to celebrate how good we are. We're a rowdy bunch, and I sit at the bar for the most part, watching everyone. Steve stumbles into me, grinning.
“Aren't you supposed to be having supper with your girl?” he slurs.
Shit. Steve remembered while I completely forgot, and I didn't even call her. Emily's going to be pissed. I pull my phone from my pocket, but there's only one missed call from Emily. One. This is bad. I missed dinner. On. Her. Birthday. Shit!
I rush home as fast as possible. The entire drive there, I'm praying I haven't screwed up too badly. Of all days for me to mess up, her birthday isn't the best choice. I can't believe she only called once. Did she give up on me that fast? This is so, so bad. The lights are on in the apartment when I get there, my plate full of food on the table, and Emily is asleep on the couch.
Drake comes out of his room, notices me, and says quietly, “I wouldn't wake her if I were you. You're in so much trouble. I can't believe you did this.” He shakes his head with disappointment as he gets something to drink and goes back to bed.
With a sigh, I realize that I let them both down. For Drake to be upset with me over this, it means it's going to be so much worse with Emily. I lock the door and head into the kitchen. Picking up my plate, I go over to the trash can and scrape off the food. Emily is still sleeping once I've put the plate in the dishwasher. I'm going to have to wake her up so she doesn't sleep on the couch all night long. Shit. Gently, I shake her awake. Her eyes open, zoom in on me, and then she glares.
“You're late,” she says, sitting up.
“I know.”
“Really late.” Emily stands, pushes past me, and goes to our room.
I turn off the lights behind her. “I know,” I repeat, softly.
“Not even a phone call,” she says over her shoulder as she starts to change clothes and gets ready for bed.
“I'm sorry.” That doesn't even begin to cover it.
“Why? It's not like I asked you to be here. It's not like it's my birthday. It's not like I spent my afternoon getting blood out of clothes. It's not like,” her voice rises, “I was home with your brother who suffered from a concussion earlier today!” She yanks her hairbrush through her hair, not even looking at me.
“I'm sorry, Sweetness. Steve called and-”
“And it's the same thing that always happens. It's always going to be hockey first, isn't it? Whether it's the game or one of your teammates calling, you go. It doesn't matter what we have planned. It matters so little actually that you couldn't even call!” She slams down the hairbrush on the counter and storms past me.
“What do you mean 'it's always going to be hockey first'? It's my job, Emily. And this has nothing to do with the game!” What does that have to do with anything?
“Whenever I was concerned about our future and what you saw, what did you tell me every time I asked?” She looks at me with accusation in her eyes. As if what I said was a crime.
“It's always been you, Drake, and hockey,” I answer easily, already knowing that she wasn't going to like that answer.
“Always hockey. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy you are living your dream because it's been a big help for me living mine, but when will the game stop dictating our life? We've moved for the game. We've sacrificed for the game. It's always about the game!” She's beginning to sound a little hysterical.
“Why are you even bringing this up? I don't know what you're getting at, Emily. I've always wanted to play and I've finally got it. This isn't about my job, so don't make it that way. You've supported me the entire time. It's a job, just like yours.”
“No, it's not! My job doesn't require me to fly on a regular basis. My job doesn't require me to move to a city that I don't even care for. My job doesn't keep me from going to Drake's games.” She takes a deep breath. “He's good, Jake, and you rarely see him play.” But then she's back on the yelling train. “My job and the people who come with it, don't keep me from missing your birthday! You're excuse is that a teammate called. Is that the best you got? If it's not the team, it's about hockey! It's a game, Jake,” she yells, clearly frustrated as she heads into the bathroom.
“It's what I love!” I scream back, just as frustrated as she is. “You can't seriously be pissed at me for that.”
Emily halts in her steps and turns towards me. Steam might as well have been streaming from her ears. “It's what you love?” she asks, much calmer than before.
“Yes, it's what I love.” My voice matches her tone. “You know that. This isn't about my job either, Emily. I just lost track of time. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
“No, you won't. I don't care about your excuses, Jake. You said things were going to change, but one phone call is all it took.” Sweetness turns again, grabs my pillow, and throws it at me. “Sleep on the couch. Get your shit out of my bathroom and use Drake's. Or since you love your job so damn much, why don't you go stay with Steve. I don't care. Just get out. Now!” She adds when I don't move at first.
I go into the bathroom to grab my things and when I come out, she's laying in bed with her eyes closed. There's no use in arguing tonight because I've fucked up big time, so I close the door behind me and begin to set up my makeshift bed. I can't even comprehend what we just argued about. The problem isn't my job, but that's all Emily talked about. Is my job the problem? Or was that pent up anger Emily's been holding back? I don't know.
I feel guilty when I quickly fall asleep.
* * *