Page 21 of Center Ice
“I was only interested in you for the tutoring fees,” she shoots back without even having to think about it, which makes me wonder if it’s true. The school paid well for that service for its athletes, if I remember correctly.
“Ouch!” I say, and when she smirks at me, the resemblance between her and her brother is so strong, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. “See, just like that. You never put me on a pedestal. Kicked it out from under me is more like it.”
“You needed to be taken down a peg.” In some ways, she’s right. But I also knew her at the absolute most stressful and lowest time of my life, something I hid behind my life-of-the-party persona.
Senior year was a crossroads for me. College had been the best four years of my life. Hockey, interesting classes, living in the city, the parties, the girls…it was a dream for a guy in his late teens and early twenties.
But while I’d spent those four years working my ass off to develop into a strong enough player that I’d even have a hope of getting drafted, it was still far from a sure thing. If I didn’t get drafted, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. My degree injournalism felt like a placeholder—something I’d worked on to justify being at college, but really, in my mind anyway, I was there to play hockey.
My mom had just been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. And Caitlyn, who’d just finished her nursing degree and worked for a few years in New York City, had moved home so she could help with Mom’s care. She pressured me from the beginning to “get a real job” in Boston instead of pursuing my NHL dreams.
It felt like I was on the precipice of everything crashing down around me.
With the benefit of hindsight, I allow myself to consider how I would have reacted to the news of Audrey’s pregnancy. I know I would have stepped up and done the right thing, but would I have had to give up hockey to stay in Boston and be a dad? Would I have resented her for it?
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I agree with her because divulging all the shit I was going through has the potential to derail the pleasant walk down memory lane this has become. I’d rather spend this time on a positive note.
We order more appetizers and chat while we eat. She catches me up on Graham’s life, showing me a few photos and telling me about the baby years, then moving on to his toddler years.
“This is beyond weird,” I say when she shows me a picture of him on a step stool at the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but an apron while learning how to make pesto.
“Cleanup from messy food is a lot easier when they’re naked,” she says, sounding defensive.
“I mean learning about my kid’s childhood through pictures…I missed so much.” If you’d asked me a week ago how I would take the news that I have a five-year-old son, I’d have guessed that I’d feel overwhelmed or upset. Instead, sitting here seeing everything I missed, I just feel sad and disappointed. “Now,” I tell her, “I just want to know my son.”
“Drew,” she says, her voice gentle and sympathetic, like she’s about to break some bad news. “You can’t just waltz into his life, tell him you’re his dad, and see if you like playing that role. Because if you change your mind?—”
“Why are we having this conversation again?” I think we already established that I’m not changing my mind.
“Because even guys who think they want to be a dad sometimes change their minds,” she says, and looks off past me toward the main part of the restaurant.
I want to ask her whether she’s speaking from personal experience, or in general, but I’m not sure we’re in a place yet where she’d want to answer that. It feels too personal, which is a weird feeling to have about a person you made another human being with.
But right now, she only knows some past version of me, and maybe the current version the media portrays. She has no reason to trust me, but we’ll get there.
“He’smykid, Audrey. That’s not something I can change my mind about.”
“What if you get traded again? You’re only for-sure here for a year. Maybe it’ll be longer, but maybe not.”
I press my lips between my teeth as I consider that possibility. Because as much as I don’t want it to be, there’s a chance that I’ll only be here for a year. “I’m doing everything I can to stay in Boston—hopefully, for the rest of my career.”
“But it might not happen,” she says. “You could do everything right and still get traded. Even if Boston is happy with you, there are salary caps that GMs have to consider, or they may still trade you because it’s what’s best for the team, especially if there’s a chance to secure the Cup. There are a hundred different reasons it may not work out…”
“I know.” I glance down into my empty beer glass, then back up at her big blue eyes. “But whether I get traded or not, thatdoesn’t change the fact that I’m his dad, and I’ll still want to be involved in his life. I know that maybe you can’t believe that this is what I want yet, so I’ll just have to show you.”
“You do that,” she says lightly, her eyebrows raised and a hint of a smile curling her lips, like she wants to believe it’s possible but isn’t quite sure.
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.”
She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I eat the last few truffle fries while I wait, even though after having dinner with my family and then having more food with Audrey, I’m not actually hungry. I’m about to pull out my own phone when hers lights up on the table in front of me, where she’s kept it all night in case there were any issues with Graham. I glance down at the screen to make sure it’s not Jules contacting her, and instead I see a message I wish I hadn’t.
Karl
Hey, you around tonight? I could come to your place.
It’s nearly ten at night, so who is this asshole contacting her for a booty call? Or, is this guy her boyfriend? I don’t know which option is worse, honestly.
I glance up as Audrey approaches the table.
