Page 119 of Can't Kiss the Chef

I love Marcus, but I also know the loyalty teammates feel towards one another. Maybe there is a small piece of me that hopes maybe he’ll help me remind Byron that he has a village behind him.

“I’m worried about him. He’s not really talking about how this is all affecting him.”

“He’s used to being the one that is there for us, Lo. I think if he isn’t making people laugh he doesn’t know who he is.”

A sigh releases from my lips. Marcus is right. Byron isn’t himself right now.

Later that night when we settle into bed, we still haven’t talked about what the doctor told his family earlier. He rolls on his side and we are facing different directions.

“Lola, please work on your relationship with your parents before it’s too late,” is the last thing he says to me before I’m lulled to sleep by his soft snores.

47

Byron

Your father is going to enter hospice care. We’ll have a nurse come to the condo. I’m so sorry.

The words have been on a continuous loop since I came back home from the hospital today. Yesterday we were told the scans didn’t look promising but they wanted to run a few more tests.

My dad’s health has worsened faster than we expected.

I’ve been unable to think of anything other than the fact that I only had the family I’ve always dreamed of for three months. Even when my dad wanted to be there for me, he’s leaving. This time forever.

Lola wasn’t even there. She had to study for her entrepreneurship final. I know that doing well this semester isimportant to her. If she gets better grades this semester then she did as a pre-vet major it would show her parents that she made the right decision. I needed her and she wasn’t there for me.

“Byron, if you’re not in the car in the next two minutes we are leaving without you,” Aaron screams from the bottom of the stairs.

Somehow I find the energy to sit up against the backboard and yell back down.

“I’ll just meet you there, go without me.”

There’s no response, just the thud of the front door. I’m finally alone.

When the sound of Marcus’ truck disappears I put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

I’m not sure how long it takes to pack up some of the leftover desserts that Lola has made as a thank you to the nurses that took care of my dad. When I’m done packing them in my backpack I slip on my Timberland boots and winter coat. It’s a pretty mild day for the first week in December. After being stuck in a hospital for the last five days the cool Western New York offers a welcome chill.

The hour walk to the condo where my parents are staying goes by faster thanks to the memories that play through my mind. There was the time when I was five and my dad took me to my first Yankee game. Anything I wanted to eat he bought for me. I went home so full that I threw up. I’ll never forget how loud my mom yelled at him over the phone.

But for every good memory I have of my dad there are seven bad ones that threaten to overshadow them. Like when I was twelve and he promised me he’d come to my tournament after randomly showing up a few days after Christmas. I sat on the bench so excited, but Jalen’s eyes held the caution that mine should have. Especially after so many years of being burnt. When the three-day tournament ended and my dad didn’t show,that’s when the fortress was built around my heart. I leaned into being the funny kid who didn’t get emotionally attached to people. Maybe if I was the fun light-hearted guy people would want to stick around.

By the time I enter the place my parents are staying, my mood is tainted from the sour memories of my childhood.

My parents are cuddled up on the couch when I walk in. Just like how they were when I found them a few months ago.

“Byron what are you doing here?” She picks up her phone that was lying on the arm of the sofa. Glancing down at the phone and then back up at me she asks “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“Yeah, that just didn’t seem important to me today.”

My mom’s body deflates. My dad lets out an audible sigh. I just shrug my shoulders.

“Hockey is just a game. You guys are my family.”

“Byron, how is it going to look to NHL teams if you stop showing up for your teammates?”

“I don’t know Dad, did you think about how it would look to me when you stopped showing up for me? Did you ever think about how it would shape my life to have a dad that ping ponged out of my life whenever he felt like it.”

“Byron,” my mom scolds.

---