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Banned
OVR: 31
Join Date: Nov 2008
Location: Westchester County, NY
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Re: Getting A Late Start: The BAP Story of Phil Gomez
I finally get home mid-day the following day. I drop Brandon and his stuff off at the train station, and speed down route 1, trying to get home as quickly as possible.
I had told Sarah that I'd be gone for the two days, although I just told her that Brandon and I were going down for a "hockey tournament".
I didn't know why I felt it was so hard to tell her the truth. It was just something I knew I'd have to face eventually.
I open the front door, and am hit with this huge train...or little, I should say.
There's Thomas, our 3 year old son, with his arms wrapped as best as he can around my legs.
"Daddy!" He yells into my pantleg.
"Hey, Tom," I say, patting him on the head. I try to recall when I've been away for this long in his lifetime, and the truth is that I can't.
"Daddy," Thomas near-moans, "I missed you so much! Can we go to the park and play catch?"
"Yeah, kiddo," I say, taken off-guard by the request. "Give Daddy a couple of hours to rest, though, he's very tired from the trip."
"Okay," He says, and runs off back upstairs. That kid... I think. He'll be the death of me.
Sarah comes up next in line and gives me a kiss on the lips. It's not anything to write about, I suppose, but it's nice to see her again.
"Oh," She says after releasing me from a hug. "I got a call for you."
A call, for me?
"Was it Bill?" I ask, giving her a look to try and help gouge the information out of her.
"No," she said, confused. "Some guy named Mcdonald, or something?"
Mcdonald? The name she gives me confuses me, and I just stand there, suitcases still drooped over me, and try as hard as I can to remember the name. It's not every day I get a call, and when I do, I'd like if my wife can at least write down the name.
"Oh, here it is!" She says, right on cue. She picks up a pad of paper that she and I use to write down messages for each other.
"Maclean!" I exclaim, squealing like a little girl. "Holy ****!"
"Hey," she scolds, pointing a finger at me. "Watch your mouth around the kids."
"Honey," I say grabbing her tightly, "I have to tell you something."
She kind of looks at me, trying to get me to tell her, but is too dumbstruck to say anything.
"I wasn't at a hockey tournament the past two days."
She grabs a nearby newspaper and hits me on the head.
"You've been cheating on me!" She yells, running away into our bedroom, tears in her eyes.
I kind of half-laugh to myself, thinking about how ridiculous that statement was.
That's when I realize I have to run after her.
I run up the stairs, past Kyra's room, and past Thomas' room.
"Honey!" I shout through the shut, and locked door.
"Go away!" I hear, her voice muffled, either from the shut door between us, or the fact that I can hear her blowing her nose in a tissue.
"I wasn't cheating on you," I say.
"I don't believe you."
"Honey," I say, trying to make my tone of voice as loving as possible. "That Maclean guy is from the Lowell Devils. That's where I was. Lowell, Massachusets. They're a professional hockey team, and I tried out. Coach Maclean is their head coach."
She opens the door, and I see her eyes are somewhat puffy.
"Holy ****!" She screams then, and I laugh.
"Watch your mouth around the children!"
"Shut the hell up, what are you waiting for?" She asks, nearly about to scream her head off. I smile, happy to see her this excited for me once in our marriage.
We both run down the stairs, and I grab the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number she gave me.
"Hi," the voice says. "You've reached the Lowell Devils organization, and I'm head coach John Maclean. You can leave a message after the beep, and I, or another Devils' organization member will try to get back to you as soon as possible."
I wait for the beep, but it doesn't come. "Oh," the voice continues on, apparently not finished yet. "If your name is Phil Gomez, and you tried out for my squad yesterday, congratulations! You alone have made the cut!"
I put down the phone, hand shaking. I'm freaking out, I don't know what to say. She's looking right into my eyes, trying to get a reaction out of me.
I do my best to not look her in the eye, for I know that if I do I'll squeal like a little girl.
"Honey..." I trail off, in the most dejected tone I can summon. "I...I think I need to sit down..."
"Oh," she says, starting to cry once again. It felt somewhat nice to see her this happy for me, as well as see her cry for me once I was sad. She's usually too busy with her own career.
"Yeah," I say, this time much louder, and more confident. "I need to sit down, because I just got word--I'm a member of the Lowell Devils!"
"OH MY GOD!" She screams at the top of her lungs, and jumps into my arms. I lift her up, and give her a huge hug, and she's still squealing. She wanted this as much as I did.
"I'm married to a professional hockey player!" She screams out once I've finally put her down on the ground.
"I know how you feel," I say. "I AM a professional hockey player."
That's when it sinks in. I can feel the thoughts engraving the words in my brain, on my bones....in my muscles. I feel a sudden calmness flowing through my veins, and then, everything bursts forth in one huge bout of giddy excitement. I can't help squealing myself.
"Hand over the phone," She says, grabbing the communication device from me. "I'm telling EVERYBODY."
I smile at her, and blow her a kiss.
"We're celebrating tonight," She whispers, "after the kids go to bed."
Oh God... I think.
Later that night, we're lying in our bed together, and just holding each other.
"I'm the luckiest woman in the world," she says.
I kiss her on the nose, and say, "No. I'm the luckiest man in the world."
She smiles, and then I continue, saying, "for being married to the greatest, sexiest, smartest, kindest woman in the world."
She laughs, and we go in for "Round 2."
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07-22-2009, 08:12 PM
