“I’m officially on a heater.”

  “A heater? What are you my dad? Er, I mean mom?”

  “Jenna, I swear you have to learn some sports terms if you’re going to be working at a sports bar, and literally living with a professional, athlete.”

  I almost made the mistake of saying dating a professional athlete, but that night after we left the restaurant Brock made it very clear apparently that he wasn’t interested in dating Jenna. He did however, want to be her friend, but with the caveat he was “excited to hang out with [her] and Jamie, you both seem so cool.”

  “No, you doofus. I know what it means. You’re doing well. I even watched a second of st night’s game! Shutout!”

  I did not in fact have a shutout.

  “Jenna, that was Thursday.” Fuck, it felt good to put my best friend in her pce sometimes.

  “It’s not my fault you guys py so many games!”

  “We py less than the guys in the NHL, by the way.”

  “You really just love watching me fil around don’t you?”

  “What’s that Hall and Oates song? You make my dreams come trueeeeeee.”

  “Oh shut it.”

  I had won yesterday’s game giving up only one goal, and had a shutout on Thursday. Combined with the two back-to-back wins from st week, I was 4-0-0 in my st four. I was on my way to turning my season around. I was even amped to py the second leg of a back-to-back again hoping to make it five for five. If that were the case, I told the guys I’d even go to Markus’ after the game. And do normal cis dude stuff, I think. I wasn’t a postgame drinker, but fuck it felt good to be rewarded.

  That’s how I found myself in the most pleasant of moods making breaking for Jenna and myself before a te afternoon matinee.

  “Sorry, just this year has been really up and down and winning four in a row has me in a good mood.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be superstitious about that stuff?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, never referencing when you’re doing well or something? What if you jinx yourself?”

  “That’s in baseball. You never mention that a no-hitter is being thrown while you’re watching it.”

  “That’s incredibly stupid.”

  “Most things in sports are.”

  “So you admit it!”

  “Jenna, I’m usually the first to tell you that.”

  “Fuck, these eggs are good.”

  “I know most of the hockey guys at C of V were pigs, but in reality if you’re going to be a pro athlete you kind of have to take care of yourself.”

  “Just take the compliment, nerd.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  That earned a pillow being thrown from the living room couch over my breakfast bar into my face.

  “Hey! Watch it!”

  “I will force you to like yourself no matter how long it takes.”

  “I love myself!”

  “Jamie.”

  “Jenna.”

  “You haven’t even picked a new name.”

  “Jamie is a gender neutral name! I happen to like it.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  “Look, I have one I’m just not sure if I’m ready to use it.”

  “Nope, not doing this again. Out with it girl.”

  Okay so we were doing this. I was going to say this out loud. I’d practiced it over and over in my head after telling Riley I was trans, and then thought about it again when I told Sam. This was good. This was a good thing.

  “Rhea.”

  Jenna didn’t immediately respond.

  “Oh you absolutely hate it.”

  “No! God, I’m just mentally adjusting. Your old name is no longer being uttered in this house, Rhea, okay?”

  Oh god, the butterflies were real. This was my name. This was really going to be my name. One day everyone was going to call me this. I didn’t know when, or where, but it would happen. I started even picturing my teammates naming me correctly. Telling me, Rhea, that I had a great save. Or I was a brick wall. Or they appreciated my instructions during a power py. Or that I had an incredibly cute ass. Hey, wait. Where did that st one come from? And why was it Brock saying it? Why could I only tell which teammate was saying that st one? Oh god, no. Purge these thoughts. Not now, not ever.

  “Thanks,” I said noticeably softer. “I was worried you were going to ugh.”

  “Laugh? I swear to god one day we will get you to have some sort of confidence about your own life. You’re a professional goalie, for fucks sake.”

  “And you’d have me give that up.”

  “Because I want you to be happy!”

  “Jenna.”

  “Rhea.”

  There it was again. The euphoria.

  “You’re smiling. You really wanted me to use it, huh?”

  “I don’t know if it was you specifically, but someone at least.”

  “Okay, so what’s the meaning behind it?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t do anything unintentionally. Don’t give me this ‘I just liked it’ crap.”

  “Okay, okay its named after Manon Rhéaume.”

  “And that’s a name I should…”

  “For fucks sake Jenna do you know anything about hockey!”

  “You had a shutout st night!”

  Now it was my turn to throw a pillow. I nailed Jenna right in the face, causing her to spill whatever was left on her pte on my nice fourth-hand couch.

  “She was the first woman to appear in a North American professional sports game. She pyed preseason games for the Tampa Bay Lightning back in the early 1990s.”

  “Woah that’s really cool.”

  “Yeah she’s a fucking badass. Olympic medalist. Just overall incredible person.”

  “God, you are such a nerd. You would name yourself over an obscure sports person.”

  “She’s not that obscure! She’s like a Jeopardy! answer at most obscure.”

  “Do you know most of those answers?”

  “Fiiiiiine. But its still special to me.”

  “And I love that.”

  Smiling, I took both our ptes and tried to pick up what eggs fell on to the couch with a few napkins. Once again, I had another game to py. At least I thought I did. There’s no way coach puts in the guy we called up from the C when every game is essentially must win through March.

  The cacophony of a locker room probably would overwhelm most people on a slow day. On a game day where we had no reason being tied 0-0 and coach was not happy with us not completing our primo chances? The din that was coming from all sides yelling at each other was immense.

  I couldn’t hear a fucking world of it.

  Have you ever been so locked in something that time slowed down? That’s what was happening on this streak. I was so in control, I was starting to worry myself. There was nothing I could do wrong. I knew where the shots were going to go before the other team even attempted them. Their futile efforts at trying to find the tiniest sliver of space in front of me were not going to work. I knew in the other locker room their goalie must be feeling some sort of false confidence because none of our pucks were going in the back of the net. He believed what he was doing was the right combination of moves to stonewall us. He was a fucking moron.

  In addition to time slowing down for me, we were able to keep sustained pressure in the offensive zone for roughly two thirds of the period. That left plenty of time for me to be intently studying everything going on the ice, so I could keep my mind sharp for when the game would turn back towards our defensive zone. Shots may have been 18-6 in our favor but they may as well have been 180-6.

  Coach came in a ripped our guys a new one for prioritizing quick shots from bad areas rather than breaking down their paper thin defense. I think. Our captain stood up and yelled about how every game is a must win, even if we are on a short winning streak. Guys got hyped. There was yelling. I think. Brock came over and tapped my pads with his stick and smiled at me. That I know.

  But there was no time to dwell on such feelings. I had a game to win. I had a game to fucking dominate and embarrass another team so much that they do not recover for the final month of the season. That would put another opponent out of our reach during this knife fight of a stretch run. I’m sorry these pyers have jobs and would endeavor to see the team they py for night in and night out have success. I would like to make them suffer so much tonight the league has to step in and forcibly fold up the franchise as a mercy to everyone involved even at the most minuscule level. I would then like historians to bury any knowledge of their existence so that when people remember the 2022-23 UHL season there is no fucking mention of them to save society from having to remember this pathetic excuse for a hockey team was even allowed to grace the ice for a period of time in an attempt at even trying to win regur season games.

  In short, I was fucking hyped.

  I was so fucking hyped that after our captain was done speaking, I screamed at the top of my lungs having the entire team join in as we made our way back to the ice. I wanted my guys to know I was in charge. I had them covered so they could take risks and show these clowns which of the two squads pying tonight was the actual professional hockey outlet and which was just cannon fodder for our march towards the ultimate victory. I wanted to make them pay so much that their coach couldn’t even schedule a bag skate, because bag skates are for losers who have potential to win. Why even put in effort for this sorry group of pyers? That’s not worth any coach’s time.

  The second period was a blur. We scored three goals in the first five minutes. Then added three more in the next ten. Their goalie, coming out to such a high from the first period, didn’t even make it to the second intermission. Not that his repcement was anything at all. It was 8-0 with six minutes left in the game. I think there was a tv timeout, but in my head it was called by coach so that I could get a minute to wave to the crowd. I skated over to the bench and was told, my night was done. I wanted to protest, I wanted the shutout so bad, but the second I thought about the situation, it made perfect sense. Four game road trip to Canada coming up, and we were up 8-0. Let’s let the guy from the C take a few shots. He could let in five in the st six minutes and it would still be a resounding win. This way I wouldn’t get hurt. I was quite literally on top of the world.

  Sitting down on the edge of the bench, I put on my Mariners hat and exhaled. This spot has been my prison. I was chained to it, for leaving it would put the team at risk. I was the problem, it was me. But now? Now, I had come back a conquering hero. Rhea, you are not going to be here the rest of the fucking season, I told myself. I had to pause at that. It was the first time in the arena I had allowed myself to use my name. My real name. The name I fucking chose. The name I was going to own. The name I deserved.

  Rhea Marks was going to leave Olympic City a fucking champion, or die trying.

  The team gathered at center ice to salute the fans after winning our fifth straight. This was something we tried to do on every win, but we realized it became more special and personalized when it happened only a few times throughout the season. But tonight warranted it. We were on top of the world.

  I don’t even remember changing after this win, there is a part of me in the back of my mind that said I went straight to the bar. Jenna was working at Markus’ and so was Sam. The Fab Five were ready to party that included Rhea Marks, confident, closeted girl goalie extraordinaire. It was wild just how quickly my brain cast out the name that was forced upon me. The name I did not choose. Cis people really needed to get on this, but knowing them they’d make it some stupid reveal ceremony like they did with babies. It would go viral on TikTok and become the newest trend that the cis have bent to their heteronormative will.

  Striding into the bar I walked up right to it and shouted “five shots for me and my guys, one for each win I put on my fucking back!”

  Sam groaned as she should have, but in that moment I was more manic than a street preacher and was ready for a release.

  “Alright Jamie, twenty-five shots coming right up. Will all be on your tab?” Sam said with one of those sickly sweet smiles.

  “Make them all jaeger, and yes. Tonight, I’m going fucking wild.”

  “Oh no. Get buckets ready,” Jenna said as she started lining up the shots.

  “What do you mean, girl?”

  “Jamie would do this shit in college and if I wasn’t paying attention I’d find him in a pool of vomit before I had the chance to stop him.”

  Wincing at my name, albeit not visibly, I only had one retort. “I’m not going to fucking throw up, I’m in total control.”

  “Sure bud.”

  I don’t even know who was the sarcastic one, I just know the second that first Jaegermeister shot hit my lips, the night started to spiral out of control.

  Our booth felt like it was holding court, with people coming up to us all night and despite buying about two dozen shots to start my night, I did not have to purchase another drink. Unlike on the ice, I was not able to intercept everything coming to me. That’s what Jenna and Sam were for.

  Thankfully after about two drinks that made it into my hands, their combined prowesses of “operation protect Rhea from throwing up in the bar bathroom” became apparent. I was certainly feeling drunk, incredibly drunk really, but was not out here losing control.

  And then Brock sat back down next to me.

  “Is this pce really like this after big wins?” He said facing me, managing to pry himself away from what looked like a gaggle of a bachelorette party all hoping to take selfies with the “fucking hot hockey hunk.”

  “I genuinely have no idea, I barely get out.”

  Usually, this is where one of the other guys would back me up, rib me for being a shut in and then pressure me into being more social. But they couldn’t tonight, I was the life of the fucking party!

  “I am gd you came out tonight, things have been fun.”

  “I bet they don’t have this pulse throbbing action out in the sticks in Boise?”

  “Pulse throbbing?”

  “You know like when there’s dancing and the beats go umtz umtz umtz.”

  “Jamie, how many drinks have you had tonight.”

  “More than I have had all season.”

  “Alright, well you’re cut off now.”

  “Too. Late. Hot. Stuff. Jenna and Sam already took care of that.” By now, my words were no longer being filtered by anything. Drunk Rhea was in control. May god have mercy on my soul.

  “You’ve got good people around you Jamie,” god it was infuriating he was using that name. But even I wasn’t drunk enough to let the truth slip.

  “Yeah, I am lucky. I really am.”

  “Those two behind the bar kind of remind me of my sister.”

  “You have a sibling?”

  “Yeah she’s five year’s older than me. Graduated before I set foot at Descartes thankfully. She was a decathlete.”

  “Is your family just all greek gods and goddesses? Super athletes too?”

  “Don’t let my dad hear you Jamie, he’ll take that validation and go on a media blitz.”

  “Surprised he isn’t boasting to the papers about his son’s twelve points in four games.”

  “He’s old money Jamie. He doesn’t need to brag. He knows the finished product is what speaks for himself.”

  “He sounds like an asshole.”

  “And that’s why I’m gd my sister will be in town after the road trip not him.”

  “Yikes, but that sounds like its going to be fun.”

  “You have no idea. We’re not as close as we could be, but I can’t wait. Any of your family ever watch you py as a pro?”

  I just stared ahead at that one. Talking about my family was…not something I did with my hockey friends. Was Brock a hockey friend? Don’t be presumptuous Rhea, even if you want him to be. Well, if he’s not a friend then I could let him in on the tragicomedy that is my family. But that would mean actually thinking about them. And thinking about them would mean dealing with them. Pass.

  “Earth to Jamie, you there?”

  “Sorry, no its a schlep from Vermont. Plus I don’t think they’d want to.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How do you know fancy boy?”

  “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. Sorry. That was. Yeah. You’re right.”

  Clearly we both hit a nerve. And the alcohol was not helping.

  “Alright, I’ve gotta take a leak Marksy. And I may head out. See you bright and early Tuesday. We roomin’ this trip?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Brock just chuckled. “Alright, well take care of yourself, wonder who I get stuck with.”

  As Brock stood up, I kinda just stared dazed for a second. I hadn’t thought about my family for a minute, and tonight was absolutely not the night to start. Next thing I knew I was grabbing one of the 3/4th’s filled beers on the table and walking out the side door to the alleyway. Usually staff would have someone guarding this door so someone didn’t try to sneak out before paying, but tonight was busy enough that I was able to slip through. The cold air hit my face waking me up from whatever stupor was threatening to drag my night down and I leaned against the alley wall sliding down to sit on the pavement.

  I stared ahead for what felt like minutes, but was probably around fifteen seconds before I heard someone else come out and sit down next to me.

  “Jamie what the fuck I thought I lost you,” it was Sam.

  “Oh, hey Sam. Sorry. I just needed some fresh air.” I kept staring ahead, with what I thought were the potential for tears to start forming at the corner of my eyes.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just thinking. Which probably is not a smart thing to do on a night like this.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Absolutely not. I would like to not think to be honest.”

  “Well, in that case,” Sam said lighting up a cigarette. “Jenna told me about your conversation this morning.”

  “Oh, good. I’m gd she filled you in. Seriously. We’ve got that road trip so I didn’t know when I’d be able to.” I started waving my hand in front of my face to preemptively stop any second hand smoke from coming in.

  “Sorry,” Sam said, moving the cigarette to her side in order for the smoke to avoid me. “Absolutely butchered the pronunciation though. You’re going to have to school her on that. Also, beyond clueless about where it came from.”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course I did you dolt. My dad was a professional hockey pyer.”

  “Right. Right. He pyed for the Mariners.”

  “Could not hold a candle to the shit you guys do today. Probably smoked a fuck ton of these on the ice while pying. It was absolutely not that serious back then.”

  “Still thinks he should have been in the show though I bet?”

  “Nah, that guy knew his limits. He’s just happy he stuck around.”

  We kinda sat there in silence for a few minutes as I nursed that beer while Sam finished her cigarette.

  “Hey, Sam.”

  “Yeah, Rhea?”

  “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “No, I was going to ask you use my name when its just us.”

  “You absolute dork, of course I was going to.”

  I blushed at that. This was never going to get old. I was going to wish on a star tonight that it never could get old. I was Rhea.

  “Sam.”

  “What Rhea?”

  “I think I have a crush on Brock.”

  “Oh, girl. You’ve got the puppy dog eyes for him.”

  I turned to her a smiled.

  “I also think we’re rooming on the upcoming road trip.”

  All we could do was ugh. This was really happening wasn’t it?

  “All I have to say is use protection, and for the love of god, don’t forget to douche post game.”

  “What the fuck!”

  “If you need a vibrating plug to practice, just stop by my pce before you all head up north!”

  “You’re worse than Jenna!”

  “Good. Now, go home. Drink some water. Don’t send any stupid text messages and be a good girl this road trip.”

  She was right. It was time to go home. And do absolutely none of those things.