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As kids, Julien and Anne had been damn near inseparable.
Anne made fun of his accent, the way he struggled to say “squirrel” and “beach.” Julien teased her proneness to injury, the way she almost always came off the rink bleeding. Since they were around eight years old, they’d become the perfect match. Leading scorer and brick wall of a keeper. Yin and yang. Not sun and moon; Anne was anything but sunny.
Julien had been infatuated with her from the first moment he saw her play. Not necessarily romantically, but something more forceful. This girl, eating shit on the ice so many times in a row and yelling “I’m okay!” as she got up and fought back harder. He found her personality addictive before he knew what the word meant; she was brash and cruelly honest and clever and so passionate about everything she did. Julien didn't want to get older himself, but he had to know what she would become. So they turned ten, bringing home the Junior NHL national championship trophy for the first time. And they turned eleven, celebrating Canada day with a brutal silly string war with the rest of the Junior Maple Leafs. And they turned twelve, emailing every day to stay in contact over the off-season.
Entering high school, Julien leaned on Anne harder than he ever had before. About four hours separated him from the rest of his friends. Anne and Logan in Ann Arbor. Trina in Detroit. Matt was the only one he could see without a valid passport, but Matt was in Dresden, and that was still 290 kilometers away. Julien was a quiet kid. He didn’t much care for spending time with people who didn’t basically live in their skates, which was why he only saw time with Anne as having any worth. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to feel the same. He could feel her shrugging her off, multitasking while they were on the phone.
“Why do you like me so much?” Anne had asked one day, after practice.
Julien was taken aback. “I don’t.” Lie.
“It’s holding you back.” She picked at the knot in her laces. “You’re not paying enough attention to the puck.”
“That’s not true.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who missed half the shots today.”
Julien felt his face heat up and his stomach mellow out a little.
“You could’ve easily saved them. Do better.” Anne said as she left.
She was spending the night at Julien’s grandparent’s house. They weren’t allowed to be alone together, but Julien’s grandparents were already asleep, his dad was away on a work trip, and his mom was… his mom wasn’t going to interrupt them. So they sat on the couch, watching a movie.
Anne was seventeen. Julien was sixteen. He liked the few months where she was older than him. It was another thing to tease him over, and another thing he got to grin at and respond to. Honestly, he was just glad to have her attention, despite being her closest friend already. She had joined the U18 United States National team three years ago. There were plenty of articles written about her talent and relentless attitude. He liked to name drop her to friends and watch their eyes brighten. Sometimes, he looked at her in awe, and wondered how lucky he had gotten just to be around her.
She was so cool. So, so cool.
“What would you do if I left?” She asked.
“Kill myself, I think.” It was a joke, of course it was, but she didn’t laugh.
“I just… really. Would you be okay?”
He paused the movie. “Are you leaving?”
Anne wouldn’t look at him. Not unusual. “No.”
“Then why are you concerned?”
She shook her head, snapping out of whatever she was in. “I just want to know if you’d be okay without me. Since all you do is follow me around like a lost puppy.”
“I’d be fine without you.” Lie. “We’d all be just fine.” Lie. “Wherever you go, I’ll support you.” Truth.
She tilted her head at him. “Yeah. Can you start the movie over? I wasn’t watching.”
He did. He wasn’t either.
The next year, Anne didn’t show up to Trina and Matt’s graduation. She didn’t answer any of his emails or panicked phone calls. She emerged on a different roster for the next Junior NHL season, all determined glare and steely grimace on her lineup picture. Julien pretended to be sick all three times they played each other. She hated him for that, he could feel it. But he knew he would damn well not be looking at that puck.