Page 33 of Love of the Game
In the guest room, I stared at my phone. I’d already put the moment off by getting showered and putting on jeans, and a turtleneck I thought clung to my body nicely. It wasn’t nightclub clothes, per se. A trip to the bar during the day wasn’t anything to get dressed up for, but I wanted to look good for Jon.
I wanted Jon. Wanted to hold and touch him. Share this space with him. Be on the ice. Ride on his bike. Anything. Everything.
I was very,veryinfatuated, and I knew it. But there was something deeper there, too. He talked about not knowing what this was—and I wasn’t sure either—except that it was unlike any other relationship I’d been in, ever.
I sighed and turned my phone over. Probably needed to tell mom about that, as well. I sucked in a breath and hit the call button.
A couple rings on the other end, and then my mom picked up. “Hi, honey! Congratulations on the goals last night.”
Wait, what? I knew my mom always watched myNAPH games, but this was the… “Mom, did you get a subscription to the PHL streaming site?”
“Yes?” she said in a tone her generation used when people were being foolish. “Of course I did. I’ve been watching your games since you were five. I’m not stopping now.”
“Technically, I didn’t play games at five. At six, yeah, but not four.” I’d learned to skate but hadn’t picked up a stick yet.
“Haha, don’t get smart with me.” But she was laughing, so I knew it was fine.
“Thanks. Yeah, it was a good game. Nice to get on the road with the guys. Bus trip—took me back.”
“I’m glad you’re settling in. Getting your stride.”
I was. I wondered if she could see that on the ice. She’d watched me longer than any coach had—always been there for me. “Hey Mom, could youtell? That I was doing better?”
There was quiet on the other end of the line, then an exhale. “Yes. When you came out for your first shift, you moved so much better. You have this little hop when you’re taking off, and that wasn’t there for a while. And when you got the puck, you just—moved like you knew you had it. Rather than like you were worried that you wouldn’t keep it. If that makes sense.”
It did. I was nodding along, even if she couldn’t see me. (She hated video calls.) “No, I understand.” I thought about Jon and the questions he’d asked and what unfolded in my head and my therapist…
“I called up that sports psychologist I used to see. I realized I’d bottled something up, and it was affecting me. And I didn’t tell you about it, and I probably should’ve.”
“Oh honey, are you okay?” There was an edge of panicin her voice. “Did something happen on the Lions? Or… or before?”
I knew where her mind had gone. All those stories of abuse. “No no, it’s not that. The Lions were fine. No one’s hurt me. This was…” I sighed. “So I got some weird messages this summer from a guy claiming he was my father…”
“Oh, he didnot.” Mom’s voice dropped into that register that meant she was rolling up her sleeves and curling her hands into fists.
“Yeah,” I said, “He did.”
I recounted what had happened and my talk with Kara. Everything.
“Fucking money-grubbing asshole,” she said, then added. “Sorry, I shouldn’t curse, but he makes me somad.”
“I hear that word every day, Mom, and more. I’m a hockey player. Cursing’s like breathing.”
“Yeah, but there are some things you shouldn’t hear from your mother.”
True. “I didn’t want to tell you about him because I didn’t want to bring all that up again. I know he was a jerk—and he proved he was a jerk—so why bother you? But?—”
“But you should’ve. Drake, sweetie, the only good thing that ever came from knowing him was you, and I wouldn’t change having you for anything in the world. You’re the best things that ever happened to me. I’m just sorry you had to deal with his selfishness. That he couldn’t even be a good person—trying to use you as an ATM rather than beingproud. Fuck that noise.” She paused again. “Sorry.”
I had to laugh. “I feel a lot better about it—I mean, not great that it happened—but like I can deal with it. I guess that and getting sent down. It made me think that no one wanted me.”
“Oh sweetie, you know that’s not true.”
I thought about Jon downstairs making breakfast. About the coffee he’d made me, and about being with him last night. “I do, yeah.” My turn to pause. “Um… I also met someone here.”
“Did you?”
Oh, that was the interested mom tone. “Yeah. I went to a queer bar when I got to town, and met this guy. Nothing came of it then, which was probably good, since he’s the captain of the Otters.”
