Page 16 of Center Ice
“Were you serious about wanting us to work on your mom’s house?”
“Yeah. It’s not why I came over, but I do want to have that work done. Maybe at some point, you can come take a look and see if it’s feasible?”
She crosses her arms in front of her, and it’s like she’s already putting those walls back up. But her voice is soft when she says, “Why don’t you send me a video of the space and explain exactly what you want done.”
Not what I was hoping she’d say. I can feel her holding me at a distance, which is valid. I haven’t given her any reason to believe that she can trust me…yet.
Chapter Eight
DREW
“You know the Rebels are my favorite team,” my mom says as she looks down at the new sweatshirt I picked up at the practice rink’s gift shop after my medical clearance appointment with the team doctor. “But if I get used to wearing this gear while cheering for you, I might not recover if you end up going elsewhere.”
She’s teasing, but it’s a subtle reminder that I need to make this year the best year of my career.
“I’m working on making it permanent,” I tell her. “But with only one year left on this contract, we have to be prepared for any possibility.” I wish I could say,‘I’m not leaving Boston, no matter what.’But that’s not realistic.
Mom’s disability money doesn’t come close to covering what she’d be making from her teaching salary if this disease hadn’t forced her to retire early, and her medical insurance doesn’t cover as much of her therapy as I wish it did.
For years, I’ve been making up the difference, which is easy to do on an NHL salary. But if I had to leave the league in order to stay in Boston, what would I do for work? I have no other skills or experience to speak of. I’ve been smart enough with my money that it’s not like I’d be broke, but the medical bills add upquickly, and without new income, my savings would take a big hit.
“I’m not worried,” Mom says, her tone filled with confidence. “I have a feeling this is going to be your best year yet.”
Her unwavering support reminds me not to waste my time worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. I have an entire season ahead of me to prove myself. If I think about the future imagining that I will fail, that’s exactly what will happen. Over the summer, I worked with a sports psychologist who liked to remind me that I’ve gotten in my head like that before, and the results weren’t pretty. At least now I have strategies for how to handle those thoughts when they rear up.
“Tomorrow’s our first pre-season practice.”
“You’re ready.” She spent a good amount of time with me at the ice rink up north, near the lake, where I practiced several times a week all summer long. I’ve practiced and worked out more during this off-season than any other, and spent a good amount of time improving my mental state as well. I’m counting on that dedication paying off.
“I know. I feel good about this change. I think being back in Boston will be good for me.”
Until today, my mom was the only person I’ve openly shared the details with about what went down in Colorado. She’s equally pragmatic and supportive, so she’s always been my sounding board when making decisions. I wish I could be honest with her about how much pressure I’m under right now, but she’d feel terrible if she had any idea how much her care had cost me over my career, or how much my sisters, Caitlyn in particular, had pressured me to move back to Boston. I don’t want her feeling guilty.
I also wish I could tell her about Graham, but I know I need to talk more about that with Audrey first. I don’t even know yet what my relationship with my son will look like, or whenit’s appropriate to bring my family into his life. Mom will be absolutely thrilled at the prospect of having another grandchild while simultaneously devastated to have missed out on the first five years.
I already feel overwhelming guilt about missing those years myself, and I hate that my selfishness caused her to miss out on them too. Especially because she’s declining and there’s so much shecan’tdo with him that she could have done earlier.
“Itwillbe good for you,” Mom insists. “It already has been. You’re a lighter, happier person since you moved back at the beginning of the summer.”
“It was the off-season,” I say with a shrug. “I spent most days on the lake. I worked out and ran drills on the ice, all without the pressure of games or teammates. How could I have not been happy?”
“You weren’t this happy in previous summers.” My mom folds her arms across her chest.
“I was never home for the whole summer. Things are just…different here.”
“Which is why it’s perfect that you’re back living here, and not just visiting.” She gives me a small smile, and then there’s a knock on the door and Missy is coming through with her boys hot on her heels. Am I a bad person for being thankful that Caitlyn has classes tonight? Probably.
“Uncle Drew!” Ryan shrieks as he runs right past my mom and wraps his whole body around my legs. If I wasn’t expecting it, he’d probably have knocked me over—at four, he’s unusually tall for his age.
“Hey, Ry,” I say as I reach down and ruffle his hair.
“Look what I brought,” Finn says, holding up a graphic novel that I recognize. It’s part of the series I ordered for him a couple of weeks ago. The kid has been determined to read for a year, and first grade has already brought big gains in hisability. Graphic novels intended for his age have been perfect for capturing his attention without being too full of big words that frustrate him.
“Great! Are you going to read it to me?” I ask, and it makes me wonder how Graham feels about reading? Does he like Audrey to read him stories before bed at night?
“Yeah, if you want.”
“Books are boring,” Ryan complains.
