Page 56 of Full Contact

Two stalls down, Larsson and Holloway were arguing about a fantasy league. Neither of them looked over.

I set my bag down. Somewhere behind me, a roll of tape shrieked off the spool.

“How’s Danny holding up? Being asked to provide hockey equipment when you’re the equipment guy is a devastating professional setback. Some men never recover.”

Callahan laughed. Then he frowned.

“He was great about it, actually. He wanted the old pair so he could match the palm. He said nobody should be playing in gloves they can’t feel the stick through.” He held one up. “He’s a genius.”

“I keep telling him that. He thinks I want something. What’s different about the gloves?”

He showed me. The palm was thinner, and the seam at the base of the index finger had moved a quarter inch toward the thumb. The cuff was shorter. He flexed his hand inside it to show me where the old seam used to dig in, and then he took it off and held it out.

I tried it. My fingertips pressed hard against the ends before I had my hand all the way in.

“You’ve got big hands,” he said.

“So I’ve been told.”

Rook was at his stall, lacing his skates.

“Rook,” I said. “How many seasons did you wear the brown gloves?”

“They weren’t brown.”

“They were brown by the end.”

“They were black. They had history.”

“Historic odor,” Varga said, from across the room. He didn’t look up from his phone. “There was a hole in the thumb, and he taped it. Then the tape got a hole, so he taped the tape.”

“Once,” Rook said.

“The equipment manager quit after that. Danny replaced him.”

“The equipment manager retired. He was sixty-four.”

“Because of the gloves,” Varga said.

Callahan looked from Varga to Rook, then back to the glove in his hands.

“How long before new ones feel right?” he asked Rook. “Did you ever get used to new gloves, or—“

“Two weeks of practice.” Rook pulled the lace snug. “Don’t take them into a game until they stop talking back.”

“So keep the old ones for games?”

“For now.”

Callahan nodded and set the gloves on the bench beside him. I could have asked him whether he was settling in. Then the whole row would have stopped to watch him answer. Asking about the gloves was easier on all of us.

I sat and started on my own skates. After a minute, Callahan spoke without being asked anything.

“Danny said you’d make fun of me.”

“Danny’s very perceptive.”

“He also said you sent a cat harness back because it was too yellow.”