Lamplighters for WIP Wednesday!
Will stopped following the love-struck Mike and El to the entrance of the Roane Country Fair to turn back toward the car. His despondent expression didn’t fit the lively carnival behind him.
“I’ll be back at six,” Jonathan called. “Have fun, okay?”
The apathy in Will’s response was worrying. Jonathan knew his brother had been dealing with a lot, but he used to come to talk about the things troubling him. Even when Jonathan’d been away for hockey, Will would call when he needed help. That hadn’t happened since Jonathan went to play for the University of Michigan after graduating from high school early, though a lot of that was probably his fault. He became distant after burning himself out by taking on a heavy course load in addition to the demands of playing hockey for one of the top teams in the NCAA.
Then, the NHL draft happened. The entire event had been an overwhelming spectacle accompanied by a gauntlet of social interactions. Hockey games were, as well, but play demanded enough of Jonathan’s attention that everything else became static. With no main focus, however, all he had been able to do was endure the onslaught while dreading the attention he’d get if picked. It had almost been a relief when the first round passed without his name being called. Eventually, he was drafted, ironically, 35th in the second round by the Detroit Fisher Cats since the team had traded their first round pick for two seconds. Hopper later disclosed to Jonathan the general manager, Sam Owens, told him that part of the strategy had involved a few closed-door conversations to ensure other teams weren’t going to take their dark horse pick.
By the end of the day, Jonathan’d been strung out. There was still dinner to get through, however, and his exhausted agitation led to him snapping at his mom to leave Will alone when she started fussing over him. Hopper intervened, provoking the snarling belligerence Lonnie had sown in Jonathan. He left the restaurant to restlessly pace the confines of his hotel room until finally heading down to the gym.
As he had tried to outrun a breakdown to Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ It’s Blitz! album on the treadmill, his thoughts strayed to Harrington. Jonathan had seen the video Bauer Hockey released that followed Harrington throughout the day he was drafted. Naturally, he was the charming, outgoing future star player Toronto drafted him to be in it. His jersey would probably be a top-seller if he hadn’t been injured.
What Jonathan had really kept going back to, however, was the last thing Harrington had said to him–
Jonathan pursed his lips and drove toward Palace Arena. Harrington had just been a convenient focus for his irritation. There were no consequences for disliking him, and he was a real prick on the ice. Jonathan should be grateful Detroit and Toronto were no longer in the same conference. He would only have to deal with Harrington’s chirps and aggression if their teams met in the playoffs, which hadn't happened in nearly twenty years.
The memory of their last encounter twisting into fantasy wasn’t as easy to dismiss. He attributed it to his subconscious using Harrington as a proxy for hockey or masculinity or some other bullshit.
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