Page 72 of What Are the Chances
Dad had never sugar-coated things for me, so I prided myself on treating him with that same level of honesty. I braced for impact. Here went nothing.
“I dropped that elective, dad.”
I was met with stilted silence. Something I hated being on the receiving end of. Most people went out of their way to fill silences. My dad was the opposite. He could happily stretch gaps in conversation for as long as it took him to compile his thoughts.
“I thought we agreed–”
“No,” I interjected. “You agreed. The course load was too much to swing into my hockey schedule. I spoke to Coach and I transferred into a marketing elective instead.”
“Are you wanting a career in marketing?”
I exhaled. “No.”
Just like I wasn’t wanting a career in accounting. Marketing was merely an easy elective to complete my course requirements for my general business degree. A degree I’d thought would satisfy dad given his entire world gravitated around his business.
“We’ve been through this, dad. I’m playing hockey after college.”
“You need a plan b, William.”
The plan bwasmy business degree. Not that I planned on using it anytime soon. Or ever.
I scoffed. “Did you forget I got drafted or something?”
The irony that dad, a man who despised sports, had a son who was obsessed with one wasn’t lost on me. If he’d had his way, I would’ve studied something like law, a career that would set me up to take over the Caufield part of the security company he shared with Rick Holloway, Levi’s father.
“You can’t play hockey forever, William.”
But Icouldplay for long enough to help set me up for life. I appreciated that dad had worked hard for what he had and what he’d given our family, but I’d worked hard too. I’d dedicated my life to being the best at the thing I loved. Yeah it was hockey and not business, but surely it still counted for something?
Dad exhaled. “I’m sure Rick has had the same conversations with Levi, son.”
I knew for a fact that wasn’t true. Mine and Levi’s fathers were polar opposites when it came to our hockey careers. Unlike my dad who wished I didn’t have one, after noticing his son’s talent, Rick Holloway instilled in Levi that hockey was the only way. If it wasn’t for him driving Levi to every practice and competition and try out in Colorado, and allowing me to tag along, I doubt I’d have made it as far as I had. If dad really wanted someone to blame, he could point the finger at his business partner.
“Rick will be in Philadelphia soon,” dad added. “Be sure to catch up with him while he’s around and get his advice on electives. Your coach is employed to train you, not counsel you on courses.”
I ignored the jab.
“Why is Rick flying in?”
“Mentioned something about watching one of Levi’s games,” dad mumbled dismissively.
That earnt an ironic smile from me. Luckily dad couldn’t see my face.
“Why don’t you and mum come too? It’s been a long time since you came to one of my games.”
And by a long time, I meant years. They’d come to my high school games because, living that close, they hadn’t had an excuse. But they hadn’t been to one of my college games. Not one. Between my parents and Riley, it was fair to say I was starting to take it personally.
On cue, dad started rattling off excuses. “Your mum has an appointment. And I have a big meeting to prepare for. And it’s not a good time to take time off.”
And blah blah blah.You run the company, dad. You dictate when a good time is to take time off.
“Message received, dad. I’ve got to go.”
“Call your mother. She misses you.”
Not enough apparently. If it was easy enough for Rick and Deb Holloway to come and watch Levi’s games, it should be just as easy for my parents. It’s not like my parents couldn’t afford it, and mum hadn’t ever worked. But her committees, charities and social life had always taken precedent over my hockey games.
I knew my parents loved me. I wasn’t jaded in that sense. I’d grown up extremely wealthy, been given practically anything I needed. But all the money couldn’t buy the only thing I’d ever really wanted. A bit of fucking support.
