Page 19 of Hot Shot
“I hear that pause. You want that and more. The question you need to ask yourself is are you prepared for the hard work and possible failure, because if you’re calling me, I’m assuming you already know it’s going to be hard and you might not succeed.”
“He hates himself. Thinks we should all hate him. Thinks he doesn’t deserve our support or love.”
“He needs to see a therapist. Can you convince him to come here? Your father isn’t qualified but with his years of captaining and coaching hockey teams I think he’d be able to help Branton get his head straightened out a bit and we can see about getting him in to see someone while you’re here. Have them come to the house so no one knows.”
“I want to come there. It’s what I planned to do when I came up here. And you’re right, I think whatever we do, outside of our circle, it needs to be kept quiet, away from prying eyes and possible media exposure.”
“When do you think you’ll get here? You’re in Parry Sound, right?”
“Bran wants to stay here for a week. He said he’ll sign the contract to play for the Rogues if I stay with him here for a week first.”
“Do you want to do that?”
“I think I should. I don’t want to leave here without at least working out where we stand with each other. Outside of the Rogues.”
“And I think you have to do that before you can let him sign that contract.”
Mom is right, as usual. “I was afraid of that.”
Her laughter puts a smile on my face. “You just wanted me to tell you what you already know.”
“No. I didn’t think about therapy until you mentioned it.”
“I notice you’re not arguing the rest of it.”
“I shouldn’t have called. Could have just talked to the wall.”
“You can always call and use me as a sounding board, Blake. I like it when you do. It’s a change from all you kids going to Dad every time you need an ear or support.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“Oh, I know. He’s the hockey expert. It would have been stupid for any of you to come to me for advice on that and I didn’t raise stupid kids.”
I can hear the grin in her voice and a rush of love fills me. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby. But let me remind you of the other kind of kids I raised.”
A grin stretches my lips. “What other kind did you raise?”
“The brave kind. The fly in the face of fear kind. The kind who aren’t afraid to get things wrong. The kind that know a win isn’t guaranteed but go after it anyway.”
“I have to fix me and Bran before I can sign him to the team.”
“Yes. And you knew that without me telling you but I’m so glad you called.”
“I have to agree to this week. Spend the time with him and tear off every bandage until all our wounds are aired.”
“Yes, if you want to go with that gruesome analogy, that’s exactly what you have to do. If you can fix your friendship, whatever form it takes, great; if not, you have to decide if you can work with him as a player on the team you’re coaching.”
“And if I can’t fix us and I can’t do the second?”
“Then you have to let him go for good this time.”
Mom’s words sit heavy in my chest, the weight making it hard to draw in breath.
I thought I’d let Bran go before, sure I was forced to, but the result was the same. He wasn’t in my life. It was easy to forget the pain when he wasn’t there as a daily reminder of what was no longer an option.
Can I live without him? Yes.
