Page 107 of You Had Me at Hockey

We finish our lunch and talk shop for a while, discussing our power play unit, what’s been going right, what’s been going wrong. As we talk, it gets easier. Lighter.

“Remember the time we filled Hunter’s gloves with pink glitter?” he asks as we’re paying the bill.

I laugh. “Oh yeah. Every time he opened his bag after that, the glitter was still there.”

“The prank that keeps on giving.”

After lunch, I sit in my car for a few minutes before heading home. I need to see Sara.

But then my phone rings. It’s Carter’s mom, Laura.

“Hey, Laura, what’s up? I was going to call about coming to see Carter this week.”

There’s a short silence, then she says, “Josh.”

I wait. “Yeah?”

“Carter’s not doing well. He’s at home now…they think he only has a day or two left.”

I shake my head, not understanding. “He’s home?” That should be a good thing. A day or two left? Slowly, it clicks into place. “No…”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is thick. “If you want to see him one more time, you should come today.”

I stare out my windshield but see nothing. “Yeah,” I finally say. “I’ll be there.”

I have their address in Brooklyn, but I need to use my map app on my phone to figure out how to get there. It’s probably going to take me all day, for Chrissake.

By the time I get there, I’m frazzled from driving in New York traffic and terrified of what I’m going to find. Laura opens their front door with a sad smile and lets me in.

“Thank you for coming,” she says. “Your visits have meant so much to him.”

“They’ve meant a lot to me too,” I choke out.

She leads me into the living room. Carter’s lying on the couch. For the first time since I met him, he looks…broken. Sick. He never seemed sick before.

My chest tightens as I walk over. He sees me and holds out his fist for a fist bump, but then his arm drops and he closes his eyes. I sit in the nearby armchair and meet Laura’s eyes. She sits on the couch and rubs Carter’s legs through a blanket.

“Just came from practice,” I tell Carter, with no clue what else to say. “Then Easton and I had lunch and talked about our power play.”

Carter’s eyes flicker open and he nods.

“Our coach gave us both a lecture,” I continue. “About communicating better on the ice. You were right about that. So we’re going to work on it. Playoffs start in a couple of weeks…” I keep talking and every once in a while I get a reaction, so I know he hears me.

After about an hour, I sit there silent for a moment. I can’t stay forever, but I can’t say goodbye. I’m so fucking choked up I can barely talk because I know this is…goodbye. Then Carter reaches over to the end table and picks up some cards. He hands them to me.

“He wants you to have those,” Laura says.

I take them and look down at a set of hockey cards…four of them…one with my dad, the others Uncle Jase, Uncle Logan, and Uncle Matt. My cheekbones hurt with the pressure that builds behind them, my eyes stinging.

I have to swallow hard a few times before I can speak. “Thanks, buddy,” I manage to say. “I love these. This means the world to me.”

I give his skinny body a hug and…his little arms hug me back.

I’m blind as I walk down their sidewalk. The tears in my eyes are blurring everything, and my chest aches so bad I can hardly breathe. I somehow unlock my car and get inside. Then I sit there. With my forehead on the steering wheel, I cry.

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When I get home, I get a glass and the bottle of tequila and sit on my couch with my feet on the coffee table. But I don’t get drunk again. I just think a lot.

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