Page 96 of Puck You
“Yes,” she said with a nod of agreement.“But I have my own conditions.You have to go to therapy too.We’ll do it together.”
I held out my hand, extending my pinky finger for her.It was a promise.
“What else?You said conditions.”
“It’s more of a question, really ...”Gabby bit her lip, looking suddenly unsure of herself.“Did they really love each other back then—Mom and Dad?They’re so different from each other now.”
“They’ve always been like that, even when you were a baby.From what I remember, Mom was the opposite of Dad in a lot of ways: talkative, loud, even dramatic.She made mundane things like going to the grocery store seem like an adventure.Dad was her anchor, and she was his sail.They balanced each other that way.”
Gabby smiled at me, and it felt like a beam of sunlight shining down on my face after months of nothing but overcast skies.My dad had been right after all.Seeing a spark of happiness inGabby was worth the ache in my heart that came with speaking about our mother.
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Sebastian
Saturday morning came with a world of pain, in more ways than one.Outside the obvious symptoms of my hangover, which included (but were not limited to) a torturous throbbing in my head and an unrelenting bout of nausea, there was the resounding realization of having fucked up spectacularly.
“Your parents are here.”
Bryce wouldn’t look me in the eye.In the twenty minutes since he’d woken me from the floor of my bathroom with a cup of cold water to the face, he hadn’t said more than a few words to me.It was for the better considering that I could barely think straight, let alone speak.The same five words cycled through my mind on a loop:I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“Sebastian!”
That was definitely my mom.When I glanced up from my hands, Bryce was no longer standing in the threshold of my room.Slowly but surely, I dragged myself out of bed and made my way downstairs.They were waiting for me in the living room, my mother sitting cross-legged on the sagging leather couch and Bill pacing back and forth over the creaky floors.
“You scared me to death!”she exclaimed.
“How much did you drink last night?”Bill asked.
I’ve made a terrible mistake.I’ve made a terrible—
“Tell me what’s going on, Sebastian.”This time, when mymother spoke, her voice was soft.There was concern etched onto her face, concern that I didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out a hand to brace myself against the wall as a powerful wave of queasiness hit.
“You should sit down,” Bill suggested.
Numbly, I did as I was told, slumping onto the cushion next to my mom.
“What happened?”she asked.
I didn’t know where to begin.After leaving DuLane, everything turned a bit blurry.All I knew was that last night had ended with me at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, failing to drown out the look of horror in Grace’s eyes as I told her we were over.What the hell is wrong with me?
“I ruined everything.”There was no other way to put it.“It doesn’t matter anymore.Not Grace, not my future in hockey.I blew it all up.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?Is Grace the girl you’ve been neglecting to tell me about?”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.I ruined things with her and with hockey.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, but there was so much my mom didn’t know, so much that I’d been terrified to share with her.
“You’re not the first guy to lose his cool on that ice, and you won’t be the last.Don’t they let you do that stuff in the big leagues?I’m sure they see it as you getting in some practice,” she continued.
She was right.Fights were bound to happen in hockey, but this was about more than a fight.Detroit had been radio silent these past few months.If they were still planning to sign me, I’dhave heard from Duncan or another representative by now.
“They don’t want me anymore,” I admitted.
“Why would they send a package over to the house if they weren’t going to sign you?”
