Between the Pipes (Offsides #3)

by J.J. Mulder

I wait, turning around only when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Sitting forward once more, I look down at the sheet that he slides in front of me. It is a hockey rink, like I thought. My hockey rink, at SCU. And the figure on the ice is unmistakably me. It’s a ridiculously accurate rendering, and I have the uncomfortable sensation of looking in a mirror. A flattering mirror. He’s drawn my face in a way that makes it obvious it’s me, but also makes me look better than I do. The scars are there—one long one bisecting an eyebrow and traveling across the corner of my eye, with a few smaller ones on my forehead. Somehow, he’s made the scars the least interesting part of my face. It’s how I wish I actually looked. “That is how you look,” Anthony says, and I jolt. I hadn’t realized I’d said that last out loud. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you can do this.” I really can’t. I just watched him do it, and I can hardly believe it. Who the fuck can sit down and create something like this? Unbelievable. “Here.” He holds out a hand, and I reluctantly pass it over. I have a very strong desire to snatch it back. I want to keep it. “I need to spray it with fixative so that it doesn’t smudge.” Indeed, the pads of his fingers are black where he used them to blur the drawing. He leaves the room, but is gone for only a moment before coming back and handing me the page. “I can keep it?” I ask, trying to keep the need out of my voice. “Sure. Throw it away, keep it, whatever you want t...