The post-game ceremony and celebrations take time, but it’s going on one in the morning. I assumed he’d be back by now.
I call him. It goes straight to voicemail.
I text. It remains unanswered.
It’s not that we need to talk and figure things out tonight, but he deserves to know I was at the game, supporting him as I always will. On the biggest day of his life, I don’t want him to question whether or not I was there for him.
The floor becomes unbearably uncomfortable around two AM, so after one more unanswered phone call, I finally give in and head back to my own place for sleep.
I’ll have to see and congratulate him another day.
54
ZANDERS
“This is the most hungover I’ve ever been.”
“No,” Maddison disagrees. “This is the most hungover I’ve ever been.”
Logan silently laughs to herself as she parks in the players’ lot of the United Center, and I could not be happier that the car finally stopped moving. I’ve been focusing on not throwing up all morning. The car ride didn’t help.
“You two need to get your shit together.” Logan reaches into the back seat, handing me a black coffee before she does the same to her equally struggling husband sitting on the passenger side. “Take some ibuprofen, chug some caffeine, and put on your best Captain and Alternate Captain smiles. The whole country is about to see you two on TV.”
Swallowing down a joke about her being our mom after too many nights out, I throw back the painkiller with a swig of coffee.
Last night was insane, in the best way possible.
I slapped a kiss on the Stanley Cup, held it over my head, then took a champagne shower in the locker room. The boys all went back to Rio’s, where the celebration continued until the early hours of the morning. We didn’t sleep much if any, and we left his place looking like a frat house the day after a kegger. It was one of the best nights of my life.
The only thing missing was Stevie, but I took Logan’s advice and lived it up with my teammates for one last time.
The effect of chugging endless bubbles is catching up in the form of nausea and a splitting headache, but I need to pull it together for our champion’s parade. Not only will all of downtown Chicago see us as we drive by, but media outlets will be airing it throughout North America, so I’m hoping the hype from the crowded Chicago streets is enough to cure my hangover.
Thankfully, Logan stopped by my apartment and brought me some fresh clothes this morning after picking up Rosie from her dog-sitter so she could join in on the festivities.
The parking lot is littered with double-decker buses to ride during the parade. Families and friends overtake the outdoor area, wearing their players’ jerseys, but the boys from the team stick out like sore thumbs. Each and every one of us is showcasing the effects of last night’s celebration.
But regardless of how shitty I feel, I’m going to take it in. We just won the Stanley Cup, and it’s time for the city to celebrate as a whole.
Over the next hour, we’re briefed on the parade route, who is riding with whom, and thankfully the ibuprofen and coffee have kicked in enough that I’m feeling more human and less on the verge of death.
My dad and Lindsey show up, both wearing my jersey, and Maddison’s parents and kids arrive shortly after. The two of us are assigned to the lead bus, and the whole crew piles on with Rosie and Ella leading the way, followed by a cameraman from one of our local news stations who will film the entire thing.
The double-decker bus is covered in the Raptors logo with my name and number plastered on one side and Maddison’s on the other. The top deck is an open space with no seating, allowing plenty of room for all of us to mingle while waving to the crowd below.
I’m stoked to have these people here, my family and Maddison’s family, but all of us being together makes Stevie’s absence all the more evident.
“You okay?” Lindsey checks in, running a soothing hand down my arm.
“I’m good,” I push out. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the absolute truth either. The biggest victory in my life feels a little…empty.
“I’m sorry she wasn’t there last night, Ev.”
“Me too.” I force a smile, not yet ready to dive into the meaning of Stevie’s absence.
I nudge my arm into my sister’s. “Hey, I’m going to need you to take pictures today. My phone was doused in champagne in the locker room last night and called it quits.”
“No problem.”
“Uncle Zee?” Ella taps on my leg.