Page 39 of Axe-identally Married
Even when I’d played in Tampa for two years, she hadn’t come to a single game. I couldn’t blame her, really. She deserved a fresh start after all the shit my dad put her through.
My father, of course, was a resident of the federal penitentiary. And as a free man, he’d done nothing but belittle me.
Debbie was the closest thing I had to a loving family.
And she wasn’t blood.
Though in her mind, I was her sixth son, and she would not hear otherwise.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Susan asked. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Water would be great,” I said with a nod.
Willa helped her dad to the couch. It was difficult, witnessing how slow and shaky his movements were. This was the man who had won the fishing derby every summer when I was a kid.
“We were surprised,” Willa’s mother said softly when she returned with a tray of drinks.
“I want to apologize,” I said, my hands and underarms already sweating. My instincts were telling me to loosen my tie, but I’d committed to the suit, so I’d make it work. “I should have come to you both, declared my intentions and asked for your permission.” I reached over and took Willa’s hand. “But we got swept up in the moment.”
They shook their heads in unison, and Susan smiled. “No, I don’t want you to think we’re not happy. And please, ask permission?” She arched a brow. “My daughter would have killed you.”
Roger laughed. “Just like I taught her.”
“Thanks.” Willa squeezed my hand. “It felt right.”
“I understand, sweetheart,” her father said. “I took one look at your mother thirty-six years ago and knew.” He turned to me. “You’re lucky, son. Her mother made me wait two years before she agreed to marry me.”
The gentleness in his tone imbued me with a sense of relief, and the tension released from my shoulders. While Willa showed them the few photos on her phone of our Elvis-officiated nuptials, I focused on breathing deeply.
These people had every reason to dislike me.
To look down on me.
But they didn’t.
They loved their daughter so much that they didn’t even consider their own feelings on the matter. If she was happy, then they were too. They did not have their own agenda, and they weren’t trying to manipulate her in order to bend her to their will.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. That kind of unconditional love.
Behind their smiles, they may have had legitimate concerns. But they didn’t let them show. For Willa’s sake. They put her first.
I thought about my own father, who would spend hours in the car on the way home from hockey games, screaming at me and calling me a loser while picking apart every mistake I had made.
Even on my good days on the ice, he was angry at me. For years, I’d throw up in the locker room while getting cleaned up and ready to head home. Being in his presence brought about crippling anxiety. I was nothing more than a tool used to make him look good. To bring him glory and back slaps from the other hockey dads. Though it was never enough. On top of that, my existence alone was the reason he’d left Debbie and my brothers.
That was a weight I’d carried since the moment I discovered that truth, and I’d always assumed that I’d carry the hurt with me forever. That it was part of who I was. But as I sat at the Savards’ table and chatted as we passed the mashed potatoes, I felt some of that load lighten. Just an hour with this happy, functional family made the pain a little easier to carry.
“How’s the office? You’ll tell me if things are too overwhelming, right? You’ve taken on a big workload.”
“Dad,” Willa sighed. “We’re not talking about work.”
“Is Marty helping?” he asked, ignoring her annoyed response. “He’s an excellent doctor, but he’ll give you hell to entertain himself.”
“I’ve noticed, and yes, he is very helpful. Every day he’s there, he’s sure to give me a lengthy list of everything I either did wrong or not up to his standards.”
Both the Savards laughed.
“Sounds like Marty.”
