Triumph {The Manhattan Trilogy #3}

Ryan (M)

It's Autograph Day for the Albany Capitals. This is something that happens every Friday night after home games, which includes tonight's game against the Hudson Hellhounds. It's January 4, 2019, which means this is our first game since the end of the holiday break.

Tonight, the two players signing merchandise will be myself and Brendan Barrett. It's my first Autograph Day since joining the team, and to be honest, I'm quite nervous about what people are going to say to me.

Some of my teammates say I'm way too paranoid about the fact that I'm a Muslim in a professional ice hockey league. I slightly agree, but being the way I am does bring me some problems. Opposing fans call me slurs, and sometimes the players join in quietly so the officials don't hear them. Everywhere I go, someone is giving me a dirty look or blaming me for the attacks that happened on September 11, 2001.

I'm afraid that someone will say something to my face or even try to get violent. Before the game starts, I try to rid my head of such thoughts so that I can focus on the game.

I succeed, since we leave the ice with a 9-8 overtime win over the Hellhounds. As I shower, I realize that the next thing I have to do is autographs. Immediately, my mind goes back to worrying. Changing into my suit, I imagine a thousand ways that this could go wrong. I force myself to regain my composure before reaching the autograph table by telling myself that nothing will happen, that I'm unfairly playing the victim.

There is a very long line of fans at the table when Brendan and I arrive. Many more people ask for pictures and stuff with him, but that's the extent of the "discrimination" that I receive.

Before I know it, our hour is almost up. The last of the line is coming and going quickly. Another young child approaches Brendan, requesting a signature on his jersey and a picture on his phone.

As Brendan starts to put his autograph on the little boy's jersey, I notice that the last two people in line are arguing. The one screaming is just an older man who looks like a trucker, but the one pleading is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"Dad, I'm 24 years old! I am a grown woman, and I can make my own choices!" The woman scolds her father, a few stray red hairs falling in front of her eyes.

"And I agree," her father explains, "but I still have a right to protect you, my only daughter, if you get close to one of them."

One of them.

My heart sinks into my feet. Surely he isn't talking about Brendan, a regular guy from New York. He is fun in the locker room, but there's nothing unusual about him that sticks out to the public eye.

The man is calling me one of them. One of who? The radical Islamists? The terrorists? The people who planned 9/11? It's definitely one of those. This isn't the first time I've heard comments like his.

"Ryan, you get your signature from the American boy," he demands.

"No!" The woman, Ryan, retorts, looking straight into my eyes. Her attractiveness makes me panic a little, and I blush and look down.

"Ryan Eleanor Jensen!" He mutters one last time, but it's too late. It's the woman's turn to ask for signatures, and Ryan marches right up to me.

"I'm sorry if I look a little flustered," she grunts angrily, cradling a folded jersey in her arms. "My father is angry at me because I bought your jersey, but I appreciate you on and off the ice despite your race and religion. Can you sign this for me?"

"Yes," I nod as her father stands in the corner, not listening to our conversation. "And don't worry about how your dad feels about me. I get it on the daily."

She frowns. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm sorry to say it," I respond. "There we are. All done with the signature."

"Can we also take a picture together?" Ryan requests.

"Sure, but can you send it to me?" I give her a little grin and a wink. "I like to post these kind of pictures on my Instagram. You know, for other fans."

Ryan blushes as she lets out a laugh. "Did you just ask for my number?"

"Maybe I did," I giggle back, and she blushes harder. She pulls the jersey over her head, extracts her phone from her back jean pocket, and leans in close to me for a selfie.

Ryan sees her father looking at the two of us with disdain, but she decides to ignore him completely for the first time tonight. I write my number down on a piece of paper, and she sticks it in her back pocket discreetly. Before leaving with her father, she sends me one final wink.

"Call me!" Ryan mouths, and Brendan Barrett looks at me in complete shock.

"Excuse me if you're already protective of her, but that girl you just picked up is super hot," my teammate comments carefully.

"You're fine for now," I assure him. "If this goes somewhere, though, I don't want you saying anything else like that. I know where you live, idiot."

Brendan raises his hands in defense. "Don't kill me, man! I promise that I won't make any moves on your girl. She's pretty, but I'm not the type of guy to ruin a relationship."

"I know you aren't," I pat him on the shoulder as we pack up to leave the arena.

The day after

My cell phone buzzes as I roll over in my bed. I bring life to the screen, which tells the time as 8:32 in the morning. A notification from Instagram flashes at me.

ryanellie_j tagged you in a photo

"She won the posting race," I whine to myself just as a text message is received by my phone.

Ryan: You want to grab coffee sometime?

Me: How about noon today?

Ryan: Sounds good! Can't wait for our date.

Me: Same here :)

I smile down at my phone. I really have a date with the gorgeous woman I met last night!

Just as my heart begins to flutter, I remember how her father had acted towards me, and the fluttering stops. Will he allow the relationship to move forward? Will he hurt me or even her? What if I'm never allowed to see Ryan again?

I take a deep breath and release it.

I just hope that everything works out somehow.