puckandpie | homesick blues [dated to 12/10]

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homesick blues [dated to 12/10]

I've always loved Christmas. It never really got all that cold down in Georgia and it was a miracle if we ever even got snow, but there was always something magical about the holiday seasons with all the Christmas trees around and the decorations on the streets and in the malls and classrooms. Everyone always seemed in a slightly better mood, too. For the most part, at least.

And Christmas Day itself, well... Mama and I would spend weeks planning the dinner and dessert menus and hours decorating the dining room, making sure every place setting was just perfect. More than once, a present I'd received earlier in the day could be used in helping prepare food later that day and we'd put on Mama's favorite old Christmas albums, all the ones with Bing Crosby and Elvis Presley and sing and dance around all day.

Of course, sometimes things got stressful and we definitely had more than a couple arguments, but it's not those I ever remember so much. Especially not now.

It's been over four months now since I got here and even with all the wonderful people I've met, even with Derek and Thomas and Simon and Neil, I'd still give almost anything to go back. I actually can't think of a single thing I wouldn't give right now just to see my Mama again. Or hear her laugh. She embarrassed the dickens out of me sometimes, but she always meant well and she was my very favorite person to bake with.

And I still haven't gotten used to the idea that I may never see her again. To be honest, I don't really want to.

Usually, working at Semele's is good for distraction. It's always so busy and loud and exciting with the bartenders calling out food orders and Derek rushing in and back out again, replenishing the stock and making sure everything's running smoothly.

But it's like every little thing is reminding me of home these, whether it be the kinds of pies people are special ordering or the drinks they're requesting at the bar or the plans they're all making with their families. Derek's jukebox played Mama's very favorite Christmas song this evening and it took every bit of willpower I had not to run into the bathroom in tears.

It's late and so, so cold by the time I'm ready to leave work and I don't even think before pulling out my phone, scanning through my contacts. I hover over Blue's name, debating for a second. We're maybe not best best friends, but she's always been so nice and she's a fellow Southerner and she lives in the same building. There's every possibility she's either not home or asleep, but she responds to the text I send almost immediately and I make sure to grab a few slices of the pecan pie we hadn't managed to sell tonight before heading over.

I have my emotions mostly in check by the time I reach her door and I knock softly just in case she's managed to fall asleep in the time it's taken me to get here.

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I've met Adam, but not Ronan, I don't think, and I blink in surprise at the idea that the cute southern boy I'd met on the beach all those months ago is into guys. I know I of all people should be better at not assuming anyone's sexuality, and I've found myself surprised here on more than one occasion now, but I haven't yet been able to stop. I suppose it's one of those ingrained things I really need to actively work on.

"Is it weird that I even miss those terribly awkward moments?" I ask her, grimacing in sympathy for her own plight. "Like, I absolutely complained about them at the time, to my teammates and my mama and the internet. But here, it's... I miss them. I don't really mind having a place to myself. I'm an only child so I'm used to having my own space, but I like people. I always have. And the silence in my apartment is deafening sometimes."

I bring the tea up to my lips and take a sip, my shoulders sagging. "Especially lately. It really doesn't feel much like Christmas here."

"No, it's not weird," Blue assures him. "It's different. I miss having my cousin Orla flirting with every guy in a 12 mile radius," she smirks. "I don't know that I'd be too happy to have her back in my space all the time, but I'd give her a big hug before I started rolling my eyes. You know?"

She makes a sympathetic face and leans in to offer a bit of a cuddle, tentative but affectionate. "I know. I don't know how it can not -- the whole downtown's got festivals every other week -- but it really doesn't."

Blue gestures at the wire sculpture. "I was trying to keep myself busy with a sort of a tree. It's ...going interestingly," she laughs.

It's obvious she loves her cousin, however annoying she might be at times and I can't help smiling in understanding, then blinking in surprise when she moves a little closer, cuddling up. It's nice though. Apart from sometimes holding Simon's hand and exchanging kisses, I haven't really been able to get close to anyone recently.

Letting out a breath, I relax a little more, tilting my head to rest my cheek against her hair.

I glance over at the mess of wire and paint when she points at it. "It does look interesting!" I assure her her with a laugh, holding my mug in one hand as I reach over to pat her arm with the other. "I've never thought about making one myself. My friend Lardo from back home probably did, though. She's an artist. You... you actually remind me of her a little. She was our team manager."

There's a brief moment of anxiety, a breath she doesn't know she's holding, that relaxes when Bitty rests his head against hers. Blue isn't really ever sure where boundaries lie with people, where they even lie with her, and it's nice to know she hasn't crossed one too badly.

She smiles at his arm-pat. "It's -- well, it needs more tools than what I have. I might have to ask Adam if he has a good set of pliers."

Blue looks up. "Please tell me her real name wasn't Lardo," she grins. "I can't talk, but." She presumes it's a nickname, but it sounds fonder than it suggests. "I have no idea what a manager actually does for a hockey team," she admits, "but I'm glad I remind you of someone good."

It feels nice to laugh and even nice to remember and I shake my head lightly against the top of hers. "Hockey nickname," I tell her, letting myself remember Lardo's sarcastic smile and the fistbumps she'd share with Shitty, the way they both clearly adored one another. "Her given name is Larissa but, trust me, the nickname fits better."

Letting out a breath, I let myself relax a little further, tea still held between two hands. "Managers make sure everything runs smoothly between the team and the coaches, basically. So she made sure all the equipment got where it was supposed to, that all the scoring and statistical information got to the coaches, that we all made it to the bus on time and didn't skip out on practices. That kinda thing. Plus more."

I fall quiet then, the nostalgia quickly boiling over into a deep ache in my chest before I pull in a breath and force myself to push through it. "She was a good friend. Reminding me of her is definitely a compliment, I promise."

"Does everyone get a nickname?" Blue's name is short, and weird. She's never really had a nickname, because of that, until Jane, and that's -- something else, she thinks, not really a nickname. 'Pet' name sounds too cute. It's -- what it is. Gansey ganseying: just like him, the name's something she found obnoxious and presuming until it suddenly meant the world to her.

"Wow," Blue echoes, taking a sip of her tea. "That and college too? She must be on the ball." Blue is practical, she knows that, she balances work and odd jobs and back at home school; where to be, what to spend money on; she doesn't have a choice about it a lot of the time. But that feels like it doesn't count, maybe because she doesn't have the choice.

"I believe you," she says and smiles. "Thank you." She doesn't really have a friend comparable to Bitty; he's different, in a good way, from the raven boys.

"Did you always like hockey?"

Lardo was definitely on the ball, Blue has that right. I don't mention how I only met her recently because she'd been studying abroad or how I'm pretty sure she has a thing for Shitty, but those little tidbits are nice to hold onto myself.

Blue's smile isn't exactly like Lardo's, but it's kind and I shake my head in response to her answer. "I was into figure skating for a long time," I explain. "Since I was seven, really. I did competitions and everything and I wasn't bad. My dad, uh... he didn't think much of that, but he never really tried to make me stop. Just tried getting me into other team sports. He's a football coach. A good one. And he tried so, so hard to make me like it and I just... well, I'm small, and I've never liked hitting very much."

I pause there, letting out a quiet laugh. "I realize that's a little ironic now, but. Well. I didn't try hockey until high school. We moved towns and the new school and I... I wanted a fresh start. Something a new and different." I don't mention why. I'm not sure why exactly but telling her everything is just... I don't know. I don't want to say the words. "The school had a co-ed club hockey team and I decided to give it a shot. And I absolutely loved it."

With a sheepish smile, I look over at her again. "For the record, I still don't like hitting very much. Our team captain back at Samwell was actually spending extra time with me to try to get me over it. Not that it was working very well. Oh, and yes, everyone has a nickname." I shift a little to set my tea and pie down and face her better. "What's your last name? I'll see what I can do."

"Wow," she says, nodding, "I don't think I know anyone who figure skates seriously. It's real pretty to watch, though." It's always been one of those sports like -- well, like rowing, she has to admit -- that don't seem quite real outside of the Olympics and newspapers. She makes a face at the idea of his father trying to push him into other sports, listening sympathetically.

"That's cool, I didn't know about co-ed hockey," Blue brightens up. Sometimes she can tell she's being a stereotype of herself, but it is cool. "People don't think women can be tough enough for any of that, hockey, football..." She waves a hand. Growing up as she had, she's pretty sure she can say definitively that women can do pretty much anything on their own.

"Your team captain wanted to spend extra time to get you to like hitting?" Blue gives him an eyebrow raise, smiling. "Oh, uh - Sargent." Which is itself sort of a nickname, she supposes.

Figure skating is pretty to watch, I can agree with that. But watching and doing are two different things. Honestly, it had been a lot of hard work, but something I absolutely loved. I can't even remember how many times I feel down, how many bruises and scrapes and scratches I got, but they were nothing compared to the feeling of flying, the whip of the cool air against my cheeks and through my hair. It's a different sort of thrill from scoring in hockey, but it's still pretty close.

"To be honest, I'm not sure I'm tough enough for hockey sometimes," I tell her, resting more easily against her. "And I'm not completely convinced my captain wasn't nailing me into the boards just because he didn't like me very much. Though, I take it back - he actually didn't have a nickname. I guess they just didn't stick."

She raises an eyebrow at me and I grin at her response. "But Sargent's an easy one. We'd probably just call you Sarge. If we went just off your first name you'd be Blue-y or Bluester or something like that. Do you like any of those?"

His weight against her is warm and solid, comforting in comparison to the lack of -- anybody -- lately. He's not like Gansey, or Noah or even Adam, where close contact tends to come with a tense nervousness about what everything means. What she can and can't do or what people are thinking. Sometimes it's a good sort of nervousness: with Gansey it tugs at her, flares up at rules, whispers to throw off limits, but the louder that whisper, the more vivid that image of him dead. Like a tether, always.

With Bitty, it doesn't feel like that. She doesn't really want to kiss him, and she's relatively sure he doesn't want her to, and so it's warm and comfortable and safe.

"Well, you made the team," she reasons, "they don't let anyone who wants play, do they. So you're good enough. Small and fast seems like it'd be just as important as able to knock people over."

The boys are insufferable, so nailing me into the boards makes her smirk a little like a reflex, but she doesn't say anything. "He didn't like you?" Bitty's, as far as she can tell, nice to most everybody, so Blue isn't sure what the guy wouldn't like, unless he's just the sort of jock who wants everyone to be super macho.

"I do like Sarge," she agrees with a smile. "Sounds like I'm in charge."

"No, I guess that's true," I tell her, feeling a familiar swell of pride at the fact that not only did I make Samwell's hockey team, but I got there on a scholarship. Even if I'm stuck here now, I accomplished that much. I did that. "I'm the fastest on the team," I tell her, letting the warmth of the statement flow through me, "and I'm really good at puck handling. Not the greatest shot and I really hate getting hit, but I do have speed on my side."

Her question doesn't really make that feeling go away either. Instead, I just laugh, shaking my head. "I was the weak link," I tell her with full honesty. "It was-- I mean, it got pretty bad sometimes. If I saw a defender coming at me, I'd freeze and just fall to the ice, cowering. And our captain was..." I trail off a little, lips tugging into a faint frown. Jack's story isn't really mine to tell, even if no one here will ever know him. "Well, he really should've been in the NHL, I put it that way. He expected us to be better, he expected me to be better, so when I wasn't, he would get pretty frustrated."

She smiles, hearing Bitty's tone go prouder, the way he holds himself admitting that he's the fastest on the team, and raises her eyebrows, impressed.

"Hey, I doubt I could keep myself upright on ice skates, so with people trying to knock you down, I totally get it," she says, tipping her head to look at him sideways. She frowns a little. "The kind of frustrated that makes you want to live up to it, or the kind that makes you scared?" Blue finally asks after a moment, because she already feels a little protective of Bitty -- it's stupid, because he's older than she is, she doesn't really know him well enough, but he reminds her of home, and there's a gentleness to him that reminds her of Adam when he's caught not trying too hard to be anything.

"The kind you want to live up to," I reply easily. In the beginning, it wasn't quite that way. Jack's intimidating sometimes without really meaning to be and, for awhile, I really did think he absolutely hated me.

He'd been getting nicer though. Even with all the morning checking practices, he'd been making it clear he wanted to help me and help the team. He'd even smiled sometimes.

For the most part, I really just have good memories of Jack anymore. Good memories mixed in with wondering how he's doing, if he's enjoying his last year at Samwell, if the team is doing well without me. "He was... he's a good a captain," I tell Blue finally and my smile hurts, but I have a feeling she can understand that. "He demands the best from his team, but he also... he takes care of us. In his way. I miss him."

The last of that catches in my throat and I wince slightly, frowning down at my hands. I'm not going to cry. I'm absolutely not going to cry.

"I think sometimes the best people are like that," she says, and she isn't sure if she means one person or just that sort of idea. Gansey's like that, maybe not as much to her as to Ronan -- she's someone he can be vulnerable with -- but he expects the best of his friends and he makes it clear when he doesn't approve, and they like him for it. Persephone was like that, with Adam more than anybody maybe. "The kind of people who can get you to want to be better."

She watches him as he talks, the way he sort of talks with his hands even when he's not sitting up, his eyes big as he remembers. "I know," she says quietly. She doesn't know, but she does. She misses home so much it hurts, even though if she were back she'd want to leave again. Blue doesn't like not having a choice about it.

"You never know," she says with a sideways smile. "Maybe the team'll end up here too."

She's trying to be reassuring, I know, and while I definitely appreciate it, I'm finding it hard to really believe right now.

Frowning down at my hands, I shrug. "I feel like if any of them were coming, it would've happened by now," I tell her, still hating that hitch in my voice. I wait a bit, breathing slow and even until I know I can speak again without sounding pathetic. "There are so many people here with friends from home - you and Noah, Derek, Thomas, Neil. Almost everyone I know here. And maybe you're right, maybe someone will show up eventually but I feel awful and selfish for even wanting that. It's not like there's anything here for them."

Blue feels bad for having said it. She is enormously lucky to have friends from home, even if she feels trapped here. Even if they feel trapped here. They have each other, and that is better. Ronan's the only one who was here for any amount of time without any of them, and that's another thing she doesn't remember often enough.

"I don't know how it chooses who comes," she says. "I don't think you're selfish. There are the same things here for them as for you - the same opportunities and the same lack of them," she reasons. "I don't know. It sucks," she says, with nothing to say. "But at least we're all stuck here together," she offers. In some ways, Bitty seems to understand the exact nature of her loneliness better than some of the raven boys do. "I know I've got friends here, but they're not my only friends," she tells him.

Which is interesting to say out loud. She hasn't cared about anyone but her boys -- or cared that that's weird -- for almost a year now, and wasn't replacing any meaningful friends. But she's met some people here she finds slotting into her life in very important ways.

"They all have real futures though," I tell her, shaking my head. "They're gonna go off to be lawyers and doctors and NHL stars. I suppose Shitty could be a lawyer here easily enough and every town needs doctors."

Jack would probably lose his mind without hockey, though.

"I've made all sorts of friends here myself," I tell her, turning my head to smile at her. Because, obviously, she's one of them. "I wouldn't trade any of you for anything, but it's not the same as having my team." And, of course, there's no replacing my mama. Or even Coach. But that goes without saying.

"It's dumb, I know. I know. I just feel so lonely sometimes." And lost. Forgotten. There isn't a single day that goes by I don't wonder why I'm here.

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homesick blues [dated to 12/10]

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