Page 50 of Play Along With Me
"Did she now?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Jessica, who has the decency to look slightly guilty.
"Your mom can be very persuasive," she whispers as we take our seats.
This is an understatement. My mother has elevated persuasion to an art form. She once convinced our high school principal to reschedule midterms because they conflicted with my hockey tournament. The entire school got a three-day weekend because of her.
"So!" my mom says brightly once we're seated. "Isn't this lovely? Old friends reunited!"
"Friends" is a generous description of what Jessica and I were. We were college sweethearts who had a messy breakup when our future plans diverged. I was drafted by Boston and headed to their AHL affiliate in Providence. She was starting med school at Johns Hopkins. The split was her idea, but not exactly mutual—I would have tried to make it work.
"How's the residency?" I ask, deciding to be civil. This isn't Jessica's fault. Well, not entirely. She could have declined my mother's ambush invitation.
"Exhausting," she admits. "Eighty-hour weeks, no sleep, constant pressure. But I love it."
"Jake's schedule is crazy too," my mom interjects. "All that travel with the team! Hard to maintain relationships, I imagine."
And there it is—my mother's not-so-subtle agenda. She's never accepted that Jessica and I broke up. In her mind, we were perfect together: the hockey player and the doctor, a power couple straight out of her dreams.
"Mom," I warn.
"What? I'm just making conversation!" she says innocently. "Jessica was just telling us on the way over how she's been following your career. Weren't you, dear?"
Jessica takes a large sip of water. "I... may have kept tabs. It's hard not to when your parents still live in the same town as Jake's parents and get regular updates."
"Daily updates," my father corrects proudly. "Patricia sends the Marshall Hockey Newsletter to half the county."
I make a mental note to revoke my mother's social media privileges as soon as technologically possible.
"Well," I say, forcing a smile, "this is certainly... unexpected."
"But nice!" my mom adds quickly. "Isn't it nice to catch up?"
"Sure," I agree, because what else can I say? "Very nice."
The waiter arrives to take our orders, providing a momentary reprieve from the awkwardness. My parents both order enthusiastically, suggesting dishes for Jessica and me as if we're children who can't read menus.
"I've actually been to this restaurant before," Jessica says mildly. "During med school interviews."
"Oh? When was that?" I ask, genuinely curious despite myself.
"About four years ago," she says. "I interviewed at Harvard and BU."
"But chose Johns Hopkins instead," I remember.
Something flickers in her eyes—regret? Nostalgia? "Yes. It was the right choice for me at the time."
"Just like hockey was the right choice for Jake," my mom says, clearly trying to smooth over any tension. "And look at you both now! Back in the same city after all these years!"
"Mom, please," I say quietly. "We're just having dinner."
"Of course, of course," she agrees, though her expression says otherwise. I recognize that look—it's the same one she had when she "casually" invited college scouts to my high school games without telling me.
"So, Jake," Jessica says, clearly trying to change the subject, "backup goalie for the Saints. That's impressive."
"Thanks," I say, relaxing slightly at the shift to safer territory. "Just got called up last week. Still getting settled."
"I watched some of your games in Providence," she admits. "When I had time, which wasn't often. You've improved a lot since college."
I blink in surprise. "You watched my AHL games?"
