Helena
Out of breath from not-quite-sprinting through the building, my eyes immediately found Ali the moment I walked into the security office. An incoherent, flustered noise came out of my mouth as she saw me and whispered "mama" under her breath, and before I knew it she was back in my arms.
Again.
Finally.
Forever.
"Ali," I said, so relieved that I couldn't stop the tears. Crouching down, I ran my hand through her soft blonde curls and felt as happy as the day she was born. My little girl was safe, and that was all that counted. We stayed huddled together for a long time, not moving or speaking again until Ali shifted to turn her head up towards mine.
It was only then that I realized I wasn't the only one crying.
"Oh baby, are you hurt? What happened?" I asked, carefully looking her over for any other signs that something had gone wrong. "What happened, honey?" I repeated. "Did you get hurt?"
"Not hurt," Ali mumbled, still looking at me as tears streamed down her face. She leaned to the side and turned her head up even further, her eyes focusing on something behind and above me.
I'd been so caught up in the reunion that I hadn't even considered that there might be other people in the room. I turned around slowly and found myself facing a man with impossible proportions. He towered over me, his massive chest overshadowed only by his broad shoulders. His legs were pillars that flared out, thick enough that he must've had muscles on his muscles. His knees were…uh….
His knees were made out of plastic, apparently?
I blinked away what was left of my tears and stared, my brain slowly catching up to reality as I realized he was wearing a bunch of hockey gear. He'd probably been watching my entire reunion with Ali.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious of having such an emotional outburst in front of a complete stranger. I glanced around the room nervously, spotting a security guard that I'd also completely failed to notice. "Thank you both so much for taking care of my daughter. I'm not sure what happened exactly, but I can't begin to tell you how glad I am that she was safe and taken care of," I babbled, barely recognizing my anxious voice.
Whatever had been going through Ali's head, once this all was over with I'd definitely need to have another talk with her about strangers. The hockey player was staring back at me, his face ashen as he stood motionless.
"We're glad we could help, Ms.…?" the security guard asked.
"Bramford. Helena Bramford. And she is Ali, but I guess you've already met…."
"Ali gave us a fair bit of trouble," the guard explained patiently. "And almost took a nasty spill on the ice. Luckily, Mr. Henderson was there to catch her."
I glanced back at the hockey player, whose stare still remained unbroken from when I first noticed him. At least now I knew why he was here—he'd saved her from hurting herself—and I was grateful for that.
Grateful…and also irritated. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to analyze my emotions before letting them get the better of me. It was a habit I'd built a long time ago, the only thing that had kept me going during my disastrous attempt at a traditional high school education.
Why did the hockey player irritate me?
The idea that a complete stranger had touched my daughter was, of course, a little disturbing no matter how well-intentioned. His constant stare wasn't helping matters, but neither of those things were why I felt so upset. There was more to it than that, something deep and powerful.
Frustration.
Wild, animal frustration. The kind that howled at the world and clawed at my chest from the inside. My baby girl had almost been hurt, and I'd been completely powerless to stop it, just as I'd been powerless all day today. It was only luck that had saved Ali, and that was terrifying.
I slowly opened my eyes again and forced myself to smile at Mr. Henderson, carefully reminding myself that none of this was his fault. He had been helpful. Even if his presence reminded me of how awful today had been, I could at least be polite. After all, this was probably the last time I'd ever see the man.
I could live with that.
The security guard thrust an official-looking document at me, tersely asking me to sign it. I nodded, carefully looking the paper over. It was a liability release, promising I wouldn't try to sue the Arena over the fact that Ali had effectively broken in. As I read, the hockey player finally moved.
"I'll be right outside," he whispered—to Ali, I noticed—and gave her a smile. She nodded back, and he slipped out the door.
What was that about? I wondered, signing the paperwork and peering down at Ali. Everything about this was surreal. Not only had my perfect daughter run away from home, but she did it to trespass? In a sports arena? As far as I knew, she'd never watched a game of hockey in her life.
None of this was adding up.
Ali was holding Bronco and Billy by their paws, her apologetic gaze alternating between me and the door. Knowing her as well as I did—or at least as well as I thought I did—something told me that this wasn't over after all.
Not by a long shot.