Page 4 of Hat Trick
I groan again, knowing she's right, and answer the call.
"Hey mom."
"Hey handsome. Ready for your next game?" That's a running joke in our family. The hockey season is so demanding, with 82 regulationgames during the six-month season. Whether I just played or not, the next game was only ever a few days away.
"Yeah, mom. Always." A strained silence sits between us, and I know what's coming next. "How much do you need?"
"Not a lot, sweetheart. Just a thousand to help cover the mortgage this month."
"Mom. Let me just buy the damn house for you so we can stop this back and forth of you asking and me sending money." My neck flushes with heat in embarrassment. I've known Emily for less time than I've been a dad, and I don't really want to air my dirty laundry in front of her.
"You know why." Because if Dad didn't have a mortgage to pay, he'd spend that money on booze. Which it sounds like he's doing anyway, if Mom's calling me.
"Alright, but I'm sending it to your account."Not hisbeing implied. After I got my first NHL contract, I was suddenly my father's favorite. He expected me to throw money at them as a 'payback' for how they supported me as a kid. Except he didn't. Mom and Uncle Dave did. When the money never came, the threats and reminders of how shitty of a son I was and how disappointed he was in me came. Not something a 20-year-old kid wants to deal with. When the texts went unanswered, he finally stopped.
Except he knows that I'll always send money to Mom. I want to get her out of that house and away from that man, but she can't let go of the man she fell in love with - even if he's not there anymore. So, Dad spends his money on booze (and honestly probably more than that) and leaves Mom to call me when they, unsurprisingly, don't havemoney left for food or bills. My shoulders tighten and the base of my neck aches.
"Mom....there's something else..." 'You're a grandma!' or 'I'm a dad' or 'You know that fuckbuddy I had a few years ago? Yep, accidentally got her pregnant like the asshole that I am.' None of those sound like great options. Annie does my dirty work for me though by cooing loud enough the car microphone picks it up.
A beat of silence while Emily and I collectively hold our breaths. "Is that a baby?"
"Yeah, mom. That's Annie..."
"Whose baby is that, Carter Lewis." Uh oh. She first and middle named me. Not handsome, not sweetheart. Carter. Lewis. Suddenly, I'm fifteen again and she's giving me the birds-and-the-bees talk.
I sigh. Emily reaches forward and lays a hand on my bicep to show her support.
"Annie's my baby, Mom. I just got custody of her today. I didn't know she existed until a couple of hours ago. Surprise." I add lamely.
Silence. Deafening silence. Until a scream rips through the speakers and Emily jumps to cover Annie's ears. The absolute word vomit that pours of out my mother is borderline unintelligible. I love my mom, but I have too much on my plate to worry about how she feels about this. Hell, I don't know howIfeel about this. Besides stressed and petrified.
"Mom, I gotta go. Call me later when you've calmed down, alright? Love you." I hang up and sigh. I'm too old for this shit.
"Hand me your phone." Emily calls from the back, shoving a waiting hand between the front seats.
"Why?" I ask, although I'm already reaching to remove it from the hands-free holder.
"No Grandmother in the history of Grandmothers has not fallen in love with a picture of their grandbaby. You want your mom to stop freaking out? Send her a picture of her beautiful Grandbaby."
She has a point. I hand her my phone. A few minutes later she hands it back. I look down and see she's taken the picture and already sent it to my contact called "mom".
"What if that hadn't been my actual mother you sent that to?"
"Do you save hookups in your phone as 'mom'?"
"Touche." I say chuckling. I love how easy it is to be around Emily. My tight shoulders relax around her. I hope that's a good sign for the future.
We pull into the Target shopping center a few minutes later and get out. I give Emily my phone number and while I'm grabbing a cart and putting Annie, still in her carseat, into the cart, Emily texts me a list of necessities.
"Holy shit, kids need a lot."
"They don't need a lot, but life's easier with kids with some things." She says, coming in to walk beside me with another cart.
Diapers
