Page 50 of Bitter Sweet Heart

“Such as?”

“Do what my mom wasn’t able to.”

Aunt Lily, BJ’s mom, taught figure skating for as long as I could remember, but now she helps organize the schedules and takes her teams to competitions. “You want to be a professional figure skater?”

“I want to make it to the Olympics, like she almost did.”

“Whoa, shit. Aunt Lily almost made it to the Olympics? Why didn’t I know this?” My aunt Lily and my mom are half-sisters. They found that piece of information out when my Gigi drunk-blabbed about her one-night stand with a hockey player, who also happened to have a one-night stand with Aunt Lily’s mom. It’s a whole lot of six degrees of separation.

He taps his fingers on the table. “Most people don’t talk about the dreams they don’t achieve. She should have gone, but you know how expensive that shit is. The dream was right there, at her fingertips, and our loser, deadbeat grandfather wouldn’t help out, so it slipped through her fingers. If she can’t live the dream, I can do my damnedest to do it for her.”

“What about what you want?”

“Itiswhat I want.”

“But you said you were doing it for your mom.”

“I love skating, so it’s not that hard to shift my goals around and put this one at the top of the list. I’ve got the rest of my life to do whatever the hell else I feel like.”

“You could have gone the professional hockey player route, if you wanted.” He plays pickup with us in the backyard all the time. He’s good. Really good.

“But then I’d be in the same predicament as you and Kody. I like hockey, and maybe if I’d put my focus there instead of on figure skating, I could have been good enough to go pro, maybe not. But trying to make it to the Olympics? Sure, there’s pressure, but it’s not the same. My mom didn’t get to go, so even if I don’t either, I’ll still know I tried. But if I do, well, that’s the accomplishment, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I can see the logic in that, I guess. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I’m doing.”

“We all wonder that, Mav. And you’ve got some big shoes to fill. You and Kody are part of the reason I went the other direction. It’s a lot of pressure to live up to an idea someone already has of you.”

“Being an Olympic athlete is no less pressure.”

“But a different kind. And I’m not trying for gold. I’m just trying to make it to the trials. And if I don’t, that’s okay, because my goal is trying. Anyway, back to what’s important. When you first walked through the door, you seemed angry, and you weren’t throwing out that vibe when you left this morning.”

“How the fuck can you pick up on my vibe when you were asleep before I left?”

“I heard you rummaging around in the kitchen. You grabbed a granola bar. Actually, you grabbed three—ate two in the kitchen and stuffed one in your pocket. Then you took the garbage to the curb. And I know you were throwing out a different vibe because you were whistling, like you were looking forward to something.”

“Yeah, well, that changed.” I rub the space between my eyes.

“Your booty call didn’t answer the door?” He smirks.

“She’s not a booty call.”

BJ nods slowly. “I knew it had to be a woman.”

“It’s not . . . even a thing, so you can stop right there.”

“Uh-huh. If that’s how you want to play it. Everything about your face tells a very different story.” He pushes back his chair, unfolds his long, lanky frame, and grabs his half-eaten bowl of cereal, patting me on the shoulder as he passes. “I’m here when you want to stop lying to yourself, or you want to talk about the reason you’ve spent a lot of time dating girls you’re not interested in, and now you’re hiding whoever it is you’re involved with.”

“You don’t even do relationships, so how the hell can you offer advice?”

He gives me a look. “I do relationships. They just last for one night most of the time. I’ll see you later. I gotta head home and shower before skate practice.”

And with that, he walks out of the kitchen. A minute later, the front door opens and closes.

As usual, I’m left wondering how my twenty-year-old cousin seems to be the wisest of everyone I know, despite the fact that he sleeps more than most newborns.

Sixteen

Caution Tape

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