Page 61 of You Had Me at Hockey

“I brought this today to see if someone would take it to get it signed by you, but I never thoughtyou’dbe here!” Carter clutches the shirt.

“Well, I can sign that for you right now.” I whip my Sharpie out of my jeans pocket. I came prepared. I’m a little worried my hand might be shaking too much to sign my own goddamn name, but I manage it, signing right on the number, where Carter says he wants it.

“How old are you, Carter?”

“I’m nine. I have cancer. Osteosarcoma.” He sets his hand on his left knee.

Jesus. My throat squeezes up. I’ve only ever known one person who had osteosarcoma, and I didn’t really know him, he died before I was even born, but he was famous—Terry Fox. And he eventually died from it.

If this kid is dying…I can’t fucking handle it.

Be a warrior.

“That sucks,” I manage to say.

“Yeah, it does.” He makes a face. “Can we talk about hockey? And your family?”

“You bet.”

He knows my dad and all my uncles, where they played, what they’re doing now. He knows my cousins playing in Boston, Erik and Cam, and Brody playing in Laval. He asks me questions about them and about the move to New York.

After a few minutes, JBo gets up to move to another room. We’re supposed to see as many kids as we can, but I don’t have the heart to leave Carter when he’s talking about my family. So I gesture to JBo to go on, and I stay.

I find myself saying to Carter, “I spent a long time in the hospital too. I was a little older than you are, though.”

“I know,” he says matter-of-factly. “After the bus crash. I don’t remember it; it happened when I was a baby. But I read about it.” He purses his lips. “I had a tumor in my left leg. And you broke your left leg.”

“That’s right. I broke a few other things too.”

“I’m having chemo.”

“Yeah?” I swallow past the puck in my throat.

“Yeah. I had it before my surgery and now after. That’s why my hair fell out.” He waves at his head. I wondered if the ball cap was hiding his hair loss. “Sometimes my muscles hurt, and I had an infection, so I didn’t get to go home.”

“When you do go home, it’ll feel so good.”

I talk more about my time in the hospital. I never talk about that. I feel like it’s something that connects Carter and me, and we talk for a long time. Eventually JBo comes back and moves up behind me to say in my ear, “Time to go, Hellsy.”

“Damn. Oops. Better watch my language.”

Carter laughs.

“I have to go, my man.” I stand from the visitor’s chair I pulled up earlier. “Can I come see you again sometime?”

“That would be awesome!”

We do a fist bump and I follow JBo out. In the elevator, I’m lost in thought.

“That kid’s a big fan of yours?” JBo asks.

“Apparently.” I give a crooked smile. “He’s a fan of my whole family. Glad I got to see him.”

I can’t stop thinking about Carter all the way back to the hotel. In my room, I pull out my phone. Yesterday, Sara called me because she was down after her meeting with her publicist. Well, now it’s my turn.

Except I’m not down. I’m weirdly calm. I’m…reflective. Thinking about Carter, and my injuries, and how he’s coping with something far worse. And handling it way better.

I call Sara.

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