The Lucky One by Sarina Bowen EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sarina Bowen
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
August
MY THIRD PRACTICE IN BROOKLYN, New York, is just as brutal as the
first two had been. It’s not just that I’m disoriented in a new city, and
surrounded by people who don’t know me. But the language barrier makes
everything worse.
At least when I was skating for Minnesota, they had a Finnish goalie.
When I got into a real bind, I could always ask him to translate.
Not so lucky in Brooklyn. Today the assistant coach wanted to give me
a specific note, so he spoke it into Google Translate.
What came back on his phone, in Finnish, said: Two left feet to hockey
go fast.
Fucking apps. I’d only nodded, as if I could understand.
My teammates are nice enough. The captain always tries to give me an
encouraging smile. But I feel like a dunce, and it’s exhausting.
If only I’d been a better student. My siblings are all brilliant English
speakers. But I’d been a stubborn young man, caring only for hockey.
Lesson learned.
After practice, it’s tempting to throw myself down on the hotel bed and
take a midday nap. The traffic noise outside my hotel has kept me awake at
night. It’s not that the noise is so loud, but it reminds me how far from
Finland I am. 6600 kilometers, to put a number on it.
I checked.
Sleep beckons, except I’m starving. So I throw my gym bag down and
remove my sweatshirt. Then I tuck my phone and my wallet back into my
shorts and head back out to find some lunch.
Outside, the sidewalk is crowded with pedestrians crossing in every
direction. People in New York walk fast—like they’re all late for
something.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I choose a direction and commit. I’m
rewarded a few minutes later when the buildings get shorter and the
sidewalk less crowded. There are small shops and bars.
This neighborhood near my hotel is lively. It would be nice to live here,
except it’s too far from the rink. I’m supposed to call a real estate
professional and ask him to help me find an apartment. But I have yet to do
so. Most of my waking hours are devoted to hockey. And after practice, I’m
too tired to call a stranger and try to string more English sentences together.
Speaking English with the team feels like running down the gas in a car.
After several hours, there’s nothing left in the tank. By noon every day, my
brain has done all the English it can, and I’m just done.
That’s why I keep turning down my teammates’ invitations to lunch. I
know they’re just being polite, anyway. Talking to me is a lot of work.
As I reach a tree-lined corner, I slow down and examine the restaurant
on the other side of the street.
The neon sign which reads Romano &
Bianchi is both hip and inviting. The building has garage-style doors that
roll up to admit the late summer sunshine. A couple is visible in the open
air, with a mostly-eaten pizza in front of them on the table.
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