Page 30 of The Parent Playbook
Her analogy makes me chuckle. “I make a pretty good sidekick, huh?”
“You’re more than a sidekick, Dad,” Lily says, giving me a knowing look. “But we’ll see how things go.”
“We’ll see,” I echo, wondering how it ended up that I’m grateful for her letting me off the hook.
The car is quiet for a moment. But Lily breaks it with words that are barely more than a whisper. “It’s okay to laugh with someone, Dad. Mom loved it when we laughed.”
Why does it sting so much to hear these words from her?
“I know you’re right, Lilybug.” My voice catches. “Mom would want us to find moments of happiness where we can.”
We fall silent again.
“Dad—” I’m afraid to hear the question. “—if you were a superhero, what would your superpower be? I mean, besides taking a boot to the eye like a champ.”
The question catches me off guard and I laugh, the sound coming out lighter than I’ve felt in a while. “Probably the ability to transform into a T-Rex and scare off squirrels from the attic.”
“A T-Rex is too big to go in the attic.”
“Okay, a magical T-Rex then. What about you?”
Lily ponders this, tapping her chin theatrically. “Easy. The power to eat unlimited ice cream without ever getting a brain freeze.”
“Now that’s a power I’d like to have, too,” I admit as we turn into the lodge’s driveway. “Hey, speaking of ice cream, how about we grab some at the Maple Fest? Could be our own little celebration.”
“Oh, Dad.” She shakes her head. “If you’re going to end up marrying Angel, then you’d better know that Maple Fest is more corn on the cob than ice cream.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw just hit the floor.
It’s the next morning at the rink, and I push through the doors with the sort of anxiety usually reserved for facing off against a team of bruisers—not my own teammates. But sporting a shiner that’s as dark as a puck on fresh ice, I know I’m going to have to handle some comments.
The locker room falls silent as I step in, the usual pre-practicebanter cutting off as every eye lands on the purpling testament to my night.
“Scotty, man, who did you go ten rounds with?” Ted drops his bag and rushes over to check out my face.
I make a noise that vaguely resembles a laugh as I ease into my spot by my locker. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t a who, but a what. And let’s say I underestimated the opposition.”
“Come on, spill it,” Cooper chimes in, leaning against his locker. “You can’t walk in here looking like you’ve been in a bar fight and not give us the details.”
With a dramatic sigh, I start unlacing my skates, playing up the moment. “Well, if you must know, it was a boot.”
“A boot?” Dawson, our goalie, almost howls with laughter. “What kind of boot takes down Scotty MacFarland?”
“It was a minor ranch mishap.” I regret it as the words leave my mouth. I know these guys—they are going to latch onto that like peanut butter on jelly.
The locker room erupts with hoots and hollers. “What, did she think you were a snake or something?” Doug teases, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Don’t tell me you were getting fresh with her?” Cooper snaps a towel at me. “Scotty MacFarland still has it!”
“Oh, please. Nothing like that. We were …” —trying to reenact a viral video of flip-flop tossing online challenge—“… She was aiming for a box of screws on my head from across the barn.”
Ted spits his mouthful of water. “Now we know for sure you’ve got a screw loose.”
“Sounds like she’s got quite the arm,” Noah adds. “Or terrible aim.”
Dan leans back against his locker, a smug grin on his face. “Maybe we need to get her on the ice. She can teach us a thing or two about shooting.”
“Or at least how to duck.” Cooper sniggers from the other side of the room.
