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Plot: Casey and Rick go to Mark’s championship hockey game. He scores the winning goal. Casey and Rick go to a bar to play pool and have a few drinks. When Casey returns home, Mark is upset that she didn’t wait for him. She tries to apologize, but he won’t accept her reason.

Characters: this one has me scratching my head. It seems that Casey would almost automatically wait for Mark – unless there is something wrong with the relationship. Mark’s deep resentment, although understandable, seems a bit uncharacteristic.

Grammar: a few misplaced commas, mostly compound sentences and nouns of address. See line by line.

Style/ Voice: other than a couple of places of awkward phrasing and wordiness, this reads smoothly.

Setting: to be picky, maybe you could have described where they were sitting in the arena. Nice use of touch to describe the chill. No description or name of the bar?

Overall: I am torn with this part. It is written well, but it doesn’t totally convince me. Maybe there is something I missed in the revisions.

Assignment 9, Ch. 19

NOW


On Saturday Rick and I go to watch Mark’s hockey game. The season is almost over and I have only been to three or four games, too busy with work and theatre to goEither rephrase or delete. “To go” sounds repetitious. But with the show over, I have a little more time on my hands.

“It’s the semi-final,” I tell Rick. “You want to come too?”

“Sure.” Rick frowns. “I’ve never seen him play. Is he any good?”

“He’s great!”

“And you’re not at all biased, right?”

“Well.” I feel my face growing hot. “Maybe just a little…”



The arena is crowded and it takes Rick and I quite some time to find seats in the stands. We end up near the frontcomma and chilled air rises off the ice. Within minutes my feet are freezingcomma and I have to keep stamping and wriggling my toes. I forget about it though when I see the team comeskate? onto the ice. I’m on my feet, cheering them on with the rest of the supporters in the stands.



Mark is good; I wasn’t lying about that. He’s fast and fearless, seems to be everywhere all at once. Every time I watch him playcomma I’m amazed at how he manages to be aware of everything happening around him when he can only see out of his left eye. Yet somehow he is aware. One of the opposing players, a smaller guy, has the puck and is racing down the ice towards the goal. Mark isn’t even going in the same direction, has his back to the guy, yet somehow senses him there and whirls around, shooting his stick out at exactly the right moment to scoop up the puck and head back towards the other goal. Effortlessly he slaps it towards one of his teammates, right under the noses of three opposing players. The crowd leaps to its feet, clapping and cheering as the puck slides easily between the goalie’s legs to bounce off the net.



“He is good!” Rick says as we sit back down. “Really good.”

indent“I know.” I can’t keep the pride out of my voice. That’s my boyfriend down there. I know I have a stupid, goofy smile on my face, but can’t help it. I love Mark. Despite all his problems, his nightmares and obsessions - or maybe because of them - I love him. Our assignments are due in two weeks, and I can’t wait to be done with them. I’m hoping that once he’s stopped dredging up all his past hurts and betrayals, Mark will be able to let it go. He’s still half convinced he’s going to be bi-polar, and it’s dogging him. I’ve tried to be as sympathetic and supportive as I can, but his darkness is affecting me. My own assignment is digging up a lot of old,buried emotions I thought I’d buried. Dealing with my own demons is enough, without taking on his as well.



Mark’s team wins. He scores in the last minute, taking a shot from a position where it seems impossible that the puck could make it into the goal. Maybe you’d better describe the place of origin of the shot here. Yet it slips in, mere seconds before the hooter sounds the end of the match. I’m on my feet, cheering myself hoarse with the rest of the crowd, watching as Mark and his teammates hug and slap each other on the back.

“That was great!” Rick says. “I haven’t been to a hockey game in years. And this was a really good one. Your Mark’s certainly the hero of the hour.”

“I can’t believe he got that last goal.”

“Ah, Mark’s good at physics,” Rick chuckles. “He can work the angles.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at pool, too.”

“That’s just a sign of misspent youth.” Rick and I are drawn into the throng of people leaving the arena. “You want to go play a few games? Get a beer or something?”

“Sure, why not?”



It is not until I’m walking home that I realize Mark was expecting me to meet him after the game. I’ve had a few beers with Rickcomma andcomma although I’m not drunk, I’m more than a little tipsy. Rick’s still at the bar where he’d won six games of pool by the time I left. Clearly his physics theory was working for him. It’s been a while since I last went out alone with Rickcomma and I’ve forgotten how frustrating it can be. I left when the throng of girls hanging around him got three deep. The crazy thing is, he never seems to notice it. Or maybe it’s so natural to him he’d be uncomfortable without the admiration.



Our bedroom door is closed, but I can see the slice of light spilling out through the crack underneath it. I take a deep breath as I push open the door. Mark is in bed, but not asleep. He looks accusingly at me as I come in.

“Where were you?”

“I went and played pool with Rick,” I admit, not meeting his eye. “I’m sorry.”

“I waited ages for you. “

“I’m sorry, Mark. I forgot I was supposed to be meeting you. I thought you’d be going out with the team. You know, to celebrate. It was an awesome game.”

“I was supposed to go out with the team. But you were supposed to come with me.” Mark’s voice is low and even from the doorway I can see his hurt how hurt he is. I cringe inside, not wanting to have an argument right now. I’m tired, a little drunk, and all I really want is to fall into bed.

“Why didn’t you come, Casey?” He sits up straight in bed, eyes burning into me.

“Honestly, I forgot. I wish I had something bettera better reason , but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Mark flops back down again as I sit on the edge of the bed to take off my shoes and socks. “If this was the first time, I might feel a little better about it. Butcomma for noun of address. Casey, this is the third time in two weeks! Is something wrong?”

“No!” I turn and stare at him. I can’t think what to say. “What would be wrong?”

“I don’t know, Casey. That’s why I’m asking.” Mark watches as I pull off my clothes and toss them in a sloppy heap in the corner. I slide into bed next to him, not even bothering to brush my teeth. I try to curl myself around himcomma but his body is stiff and unyielding.

“You’re drunk.” Mark flicks off the light and rolls over, his back to me. “There’s no point talking to you now.”