Five

It is eight in the morning on Friday when I drive my rental car to Patty’s house. The Cup is in the backseat, and some mean Denver drivers gave me nasty glares when I got stuck in traffic. Did they see it? I wonder.

I ring the doorbell at Patty’s grand mansion. When no one answers for a minute, I ring it again and pound on the door. Finally Patty opens it, in his pajamas. His hair is all messy. I should tell him he needs a haircut.

“Look! Look!” I say loudly, clutching the Cup in my hands. Patty blinks a few times, then rubs his eyes. He mutters something in French.

“Sacre bleu, da Cup is on my doorstep!” he says doubtfully.

“What about me? I come here right from arena to bring it and show you are you not happy for me? Proud? Acknowledging me? Halo?” I say quickly. I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours.

“Wait—Dom? Come in, Michele and les enfants are in Quebec visiting deir mother and grandmother, respectively. You say you came straight from da arena?” he asks, puzzled. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to come see him.

I clutch the Cup and wander into his kitchen. I take out a glass and fill it with water, then drink it so fast that it sluices all around my face and gets my pretty Armani shirt all wet. Oh well.

“Dom, answer my question!” Patty says, leaning against his pantry and watching me fill another glass of water.

“You didn’t ask question,” I say, between gulps. I go to fill another but he stops me.

“I got to pay da water bills, you know. My question is that why did you come straight from da arena? Isn’t da captain supposed to take da Cup home? Didn’t Steve care?” he asks.

I lean in closer to him.

“This my secret. Stevie way drunk, so I tell him I take Cup home first! He say OK, but then I go to airport instead and come here to see you. Aren’t I smart and clever and wonderful and beautiful? Don’t you think?” I say. Yep, the not-sleeping part has definitely gone to my head.

“So, let me get dis straight. Steve was drunk, and doesn’t know where da Cup is. Does anyone?”

“Patty, don’t be stupid. If I told person that I go straight to Denver with Cup, they say I crazy.”

“You are pretty damn ‘tupid, I tink. So no one knows where da Cup is? Won’t dey get suspicious?” Patty is the suspicious one here!

“Don’t do dat. It makes you look like you escaped from da mental asylum.” He makes me so mad.

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Are you so sure?” he teases. I playfully push him, the Cup still under my arm. “You can put it down now, I don’t tink it goin’ anywhere. It doesn’t have legs, you know.” I glare at him. He quick pulls me into a hug, then an embrace, then a warm kiss. I drop the Cup and it clanks loudly on the tile, then tips and rolls over a little. His arms are strong and solid around me, and he trails his tongue all the way up my cheek to my ear.

“I am proud of you,” he whispers. “Very proud, and very ‘appy, and very honored dat you came to me first. I was upset dat you won over us in da t’ird round, but now I couldn’t be happier for you. I do love you, more dan you know.” He finished speaking and kisses my ear.

I pull away and sit down on his kitchen floor, my shirt still wet from the water.

“Really?” I whisper. He sinks to his knees in front of me.

“Yes. Always and for’ever.” He suddenly stands. “But you never answered my question. Does anyone but you know where da Cup is?!”

I look down.

“No. You, me.” Suddenly all the hysteria of the past few hours whooshes by my face on its way to crashing in the basement.

“You could get in a lotta trouble for dat, Dommity. I only want you to be careful.” He looks twice at me, then sinks back to his knees to catch me before I fall back on the tile, asleep.

He quick catches me, then picks me up and takes me up the stairs. I didn’t think he was so strong.

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Hours later, I wake up in the bedroom that I’ve spent too many nights in. It’s all blue—dark blue walls, blue comforter, blue trim. Like being in someone’s stomach after they’ve eaten blueberries and blue raspberry Popsicles.

I wander downstairs, still in my Armani shirt, realizing I didn’t bring my suitcase.

“Good afternoon, Dom,” Patty says pleasantly. “I made you some breakfast, but eet got cold and I had to eat eet. Then I made you some lunch, but eet got cold and I had to eat eet. I’m a pretty good cook.” He’s so smug.

The Cup is sitting on his coffee table. I sit next to him on his couch.

“You strong, you carry me all the way up stairs,” I say admiringly. He laughs.

“You weigh about t’ree pounds, Dom. You a bean.” I don’t know what he means by that, so I smile and nod and we sit in silence for a while.

“My plane leave at seven-forty-eight. I need leave soon.” Patty nods.

“ ‘ow are you going to get da Cup back? ow’d you get it here?” he asks. I look into my lap.

“I put it in a big black bag and check it,” I say quickly. Patty’s face goes white, then flaming red, then white, then red, then red and white. He should be a Red Wing, his colors are perfect! He grumbles, then walks into his basement and gets a duffel bag. Together, we hunt for enough packing peanuts to stuff the bag and keep the Cup moderately safe.

I pick up a peanut.

“Patty? How they make these?” I ask. He gives me a funny look.

“Don’t even bot’er asking me dat.” We laugh and small talk as he gets into the rental and drives me to the airport.

The Dropping Off sign looms in the distance. I swallow hard. Patty slows the car and looks at me. It’s shadowy outside, and I lean in and kiss him.

“T’ank you,” he whispers. “I love you, Dommity. Call me when you get ‘ome.” I smile as I haul the Cup out of the backseat, safely esconsed in its duffel and packing peanuts. He unrolls the window and I lean in to kiss him once more.

Warm. Constant. I love him.