Page 94 of Wood Riddance
He had big dreams, but he’d never been able to fully articulate them, so he defaulted to the easiest option. If we were as close as we once were, if the circumstances weren’t quite so shitty, I’d sit him down and force him to open up. But right now, in the midst of all the strife we were dealing with day to day, there was no way he’d hear anything I had to say.
I was with Owen on this. I wanted to sell, walk away with whatever profit we could eke out of the disaster of a corporation, and then focus on starting my own business. I had connected with a couple of backcountry guides who led hikes of Katahdin, and they’d been helpful with information about tourism in the area. They’d also hooked me up with leads to follow up on. Every person I spoke to who had their toes in the water of the Maine tourism industry agreed that the area needed more bush pilots. And eventually, if I could save for a helicopter, I could take tourists up on backcountry skiing trips in the winter.
The father of one of my Navy buddies owned several ski resorts in New England and was desperate for a pilot. Tourists paid big money to be dropped off on top of mountains. Warmer winters and irregular snowfall had hit the Maine skiing industry hard, but it was starting to recover. This was the time to get my foot in and grow.
But I couldn’t do that without start-up capital and a plan. So I continued to network and research the best way to handle contracts with ski resorts in the area. If I could get in with a handful of them, that’d pay the bills all winter. Then in the summer, I could focus on tourism trips.
It had been months since I’d put time into actively planning my business. After my dad’s arrest, I’d mostly given up, feeling too beaten down and defeated to believe my dreams could become a reality.
But things had changed. My perspective had changed.
Adele was showing me how different my life could be, even though I couldn’t leave this town.
She surprised me every day. And she was slowly drawing me out of my funk.
She asked endless questions about my ideas and had helped me draft a basic business plan. Often, we sat side by side on my couch with our laptops, working on fuel estimates and looking at seasonal tourism trends. Not only did she take my dream seriously, but she was confident that I could do it. She was confident in me.
She spoke inwhens, notifs. Her faith lit a fire inside me. So did her determination. She didn’t do anything halfway. She pushed herself every single day, and it inspired the hell out of me. Last week, I’d surprised her with water balloons on a particularly hot day. In typical Adele fashion, she jumped in with both feet and took our water battle seriously, hiding behind bushes and attacking me with the strategy of a four-star admiral while He-Man ran around barking at me.
We rolled around, wet and dirty, while the sun set. And then spent the night having sweaty sex with all the windows open, letting the late summer breeze flow through her house.
In two weeks’ time, I’d fallen head over heels for this woman. Was it possible? A future in Lovewell? Could my dream job and dream womanbothbe within my grasp?
As we got off the endless highway and followed the grim-looking signs, Jude finally spoke up. “Did you hear about Cole?”
I shook my head, and Gus grunted from the driver’s seat.
“Labrum tear. Grade four. Happened at training camp.”
“Jesus.”
“He’s injured this hip a few times already. Needs total surgical replacement. He’ll need lots of PT to walk normally.”
“Awful.”
I harbored plenty of resentment toward my youngest brother, but I still loved the bastard and I’d never wish an injury on him. This past season had been terrible for him. And now, at almost 29, he’d suffered what was likely a career-ending injury.
For a couple of years, things had been good. He’d been called up a few times, and he’d suited up for the Blaze. We’d all driven down to Boston to watch him. But he was never able to maintain a position in the majors.
He was inconsistent and moody, with a poor work ethic.
It was such a waste. He had immense talent. He was six-five, with a killer slapshot, every NHL coach’s dream, but he couldn’t get out of his own way.
As frustrated as he made me sometimes, my heart ached for him. Pampered by my dad, but largely ignored by his own mom, he’d always sort of floated through life.
For most of his life, natural talent plus my dad’s money had ensured that he didn’t have to try hard to get what he wanted.
Even when it came to his longtime girlfriend, Lila. She traveled with him, bent over backward to accommodate him, and was his biggest cheerleader. Yet for years, he’d barely even given her the time of day. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard anything about her in a while. Maybe she’d woken up and dumped his ass.
“He’s having surgery in Boston but will probably come home for a while to recover,” Jude said.
“What would he even do here? Did he ever finish his degree?” I scoffed. If my father did one thing right, it was insisting that we take our education seriously. Cole leaving U Maine and entering the NHL draft had been a major issue between them.
“I think he’s a few credits short. Maybe he can work on that while he’s got the time.”
“Sure,” Gus said. “Like that will happen without Dad’s money or a hockey scholarship.”
For many years, I believed he’d grow up eventually and seize the opportunities life had given him. But that was looking less and less likely these days. Yet another layer to our family dysfunction.
