in front of me. It wasn't like me to act like that, at all. People - especially girls - usually got flustered around me, not the other way around.
"It's not - it's not charity. I don't know - I mean I'm not sure what your situation is but it's just some milk. Can't have cereal without milk, right? Wait here, OK? I'll be right back, just wait here."
Burning with acute, unfamiliar embarrassment but unwilling to let Ellie go, I ran back into the store to get my groceries, half expecting her to be gone when I got back outside. She was still there, though, right where I'd left her, stock still and disconcertingly quiet. I handed her the bag in my hand. Not just the milk, but everything I'd bought and finally she looked up at me, her eyes glistening.
Oh my God. Tears. She was crying. I was eighteen years old at the time, the product of a solid upper middle class upbringing, but also an incredibly sheltered one. Although it should have been obvious, I had no idea why Ellie Hesketh was crying and I was convinced it was because of something I'd done.
"I'm sorry. Ellie, oh shit. Are you OK? I'm sorry about my stupid joke. What's - what's going on? Did I-"
She cut me off before I could finish, her voice a whisper, thick with emotion.
"Cade?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't tell anyone at school about this."
"No, of course not, I won't say a-"
"Thank you."
And then she was gone. I stood watching her walk away, my mind racing with things I could have said or done to prevent her upset. I stayed out there for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what had just happened and convinced that I'd handled everything so badly she was never going to speak to me again. Then I walked slowly back into the store and repurchased all the items on my mother's list, the ones I'd just given to Ellie.
When I got home, my mother was horrified. Not by my lateness, and not by the fact that there was barely anything left from her hundred dollars. She didn't even notice the money. No, the real cause of her upset was the lack of fresh tarragon.
"Really, Cade?" She asked me, eyes wide. "They didn't have fresh herbs?"
"Uh, no. They had some of those basil plants in the plastic bags, but nothing else."
My mother looked over at my father, who was sitting at the kitchen table and listening to our exchange.
"James, where have you taken us?"
She was only half-serious and my dad knew it. He looked up at me, grinning.
"You see what this is doing to your mother, son? You better get drafted as soon as possible or she's going to die out here in the sticks due to lack of fresh herbs and Louboutins."
I chuckled. My dad was, like my mom, only half-joking. We'd known since I was around twelve that the NHL was a possibility but it was only within the last couple of years that it had become what it now was - destiny. I was six foot four and two-hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. I was also really, really good at playing hockey. Good enough to have scouts sniffing around by the time I was eleven, good enough for ESPN to have covered my junior career so far.
"Amazing hands for a kid his age - and a kid his size." That's what my former coach had said - it's what everyone said. Finesse and size. I was the perfect hockey package. My parents were determined to maintain control, though. I wasn't going to be sold to the first bidder. The NHL was as close to a foregone conclusion as it got, all that mattered was that I didn't go to some second-rate team for a second-rate salary. Other kids my age, boys I'd grown up with and played with, were chafing at their parents ambitions for them but not me. If anything my ambition outmatched theirs - or so I thought. All I'd done since I was a kid was eat, sleep and breathe hockey. It was all that mattered. Until Ellie Hesketh came along and crept into my heart like a tiny, bedraggled kitten.
Chapter 3: Ellie
I continued to try and avoid Cade but he wasn't the type of boy who took no for an answer. I didn't want to avoid him - quite
"It's not - it's not charity. I don't know - I mean I'm not sure what your situation is but it's just some milk. Can't have cereal without milk, right? Wait here, OK? I'll be right back, just wait here."
Burning with acute, unfamiliar embarrassment but unwilling to let Ellie go, I ran back into the store to get my groceries, half expecting her to be gone when I got back outside. She was still there, though, right where I'd left her, stock still and disconcertingly quiet. I handed her the bag in my hand. Not just the milk, but everything I'd bought and finally she looked up at me, her eyes glistening.
Oh my God. Tears. She was crying. I was eighteen years old at the time, the product of a solid upper middle class upbringing, but also an incredibly sheltered one. Although it should have been obvious, I had no idea why Ellie Hesketh was crying and I was convinced it was because of something I'd done.
"I'm sorry. Ellie, oh shit. Are you OK? I'm sorry about my stupid joke. What's - what's going on? Did I-"
She cut me off before I could finish, her voice a whisper, thick with emotion.
"Cade?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't tell anyone at school about this."
"No, of course not, I won't say a-"
"Thank you."
And then she was gone. I stood watching her walk away, my mind racing with things I could have said or done to prevent her upset. I stayed out there for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what had just happened and convinced that I'd handled everything so badly she was never going to speak to me again. Then I walked slowly back into the store and repurchased all the items on my mother's list, the ones I'd just given to Ellie.
When I got home, my mother was horrified. Not by my lateness, and not by the fact that there was barely anything left from her hundred dollars. She didn't even notice the money. No, the real cause of her upset was the lack of fresh tarragon.
"Really, Cade?" She asked me, eyes wide. "They didn't have fresh herbs?"
"Uh, no. They had some of those basil plants in the plastic bags, but nothing else."
My mother looked over at my father, who was sitting at the kitchen table and listening to our exchange.
"James, where have you taken us?"
She was only half-serious and my dad knew it. He looked up at me, grinning.
"You see what this is doing to your mother, son? You better get drafted as soon as possible or she's going to die out here in the sticks due to lack of fresh herbs and Louboutins."
I chuckled. My dad was, like my mom, only half-joking. We'd known since I was around twelve that the NHL was a possibility but it was only within the last couple of years that it had become what it now was - destiny. I was six foot four and two-hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. I was also really, really good at playing hockey. Good enough to have scouts sniffing around by the time I was eleven, good enough for ESPN to have covered my junior career so far.
"Amazing hands for a kid his age - and a kid his size." That's what my former coach had said - it's what everyone said. Finesse and size. I was the perfect hockey package. My parents were determined to maintain control, though. I wasn't going to be sold to the first bidder. The NHL was as close to a foregone conclusion as it got, all that mattered was that I didn't go to some second-rate team for a second-rate salary. Other kids my age, boys I'd grown up with and played with, were chafing at their parents ambitions for them but not me. If anything my ambition outmatched theirs - or so I thought. All I'd done since I was a kid was eat, sleep and breathe hockey. It was all that mattered. Until Ellie Hesketh came along and crept into my heart like a tiny, bedraggled kitten.
Chapter 3: Ellie
I continued to try and avoid Cade but he wasn't the type of boy who took no for an answer. I didn't want to avoid him - quite
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