I want to forget him. Ineedto forget him. After all, he did as I asked, he disappeared into the night, and we haven’t seen him since.
It’s for the better. I know it, he knows it, the whole universe knew it when it sent that thunder, tearing us apart. But it doesn’t make it any easier to just forget. Especially, when my son has been sitting in front of the window almost every day, waiting for Mr. Brick to come again.
He tricked Stella and me into coming to Blade’s more often than not. He even decided he wanted to try the figure skating class I teach three times a week, pretending he suddenly grew to like it when we all knew he was just making sure he wouldn’t miss Severin.
My heart broke a little more when I saw his disappointment grow each day.
Why doesn’t anyone teach parents how to deal with this? How to explain that life is complicated and twisted and you’re just trying to protect them?
And then there are the never-ending Outlaws hockey games Emett insists on watching. And I watch them with him, like the masochist I’ve turned out to be. But a deep part of me wants to know how he’s doing. I want to see that he’s moved on, that he’s happy so that I can hate him a little easier.
We were nothing, sharing all of one kiss, yet it left me shattered. I didn’t even feel like this after Joey left me, literally destroyed and alone with our unborn son. I felt anger, resentment, even hate but I wasn’t sad. I never felt like a part of me was stolen.
“Goal!” Emett shouts, his small feet jumping up on the couch as he cheers.
It’s the weekend, and I had an earlier shifts at Blade’s today, making sure I had the game recorded for when we finally got home since they played at lunch time.
“Did you see that, Mommy? Did you see how Goram just spinned and made that goal?” His eyes are so wide with excitement they’re about to pop and I smile.
“I did. That was very cool!”
“Yeah! Now, Mr. Brick just needs to make sure no other pucks go in, and we’re golden!”
I chuckle, shaking my head at him. This kid and his extensive adult vocabulary. Sometimes I wonder if Joey ever thinks about his son. Who he is? How’s he doing? Does he look like him?
He’s never called. Not once ever since making sure those papers were signed in the hospital after the accident. And I haven’t either.
We’re better off without Joey.
But are we better off without Severin?
The game picks back up and I focus on the commentators’ voices as Severin makes miracle saves.
“And the puck is brought ahead by Teremko. Pass. Shot by Oakley. Stopped! Rebound by Minaev! He’s diving to his right.”
“Did he get the paddle on that? What a save! What a brilliant save! Wow!”
“The Serpents aren’t done yet. Another play. Oakley comes down the other side, behind the net. They think they might be able to get one past Minaev.”
“Minev is down! But he turned over, diving across.”
“He reaches back and that’s off the heel of the stick!”
“Do you hear the crowd?”
“Oh, that was so close! I think it’ll be reviewed if the puck crossed the red line, but we haven’t seen saves like that in a long while.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Jeff. It looks like the Brick is back to his form.”
“I wonder what changed, but he needs to keep it up! The Outlaws need all the luck they can get.”
“That and Exton Quinn back on that ice. Minaev can’t be both a goalie and a defenseman all by himself.”
Their voices trail off as Emett and I both watch the reply of that magnificent save made by Sava with our mouths propped open.
They were all on him. There were at least four players from the other team harassing him by the net. They kept shooting the puck into every corner until Severin was down. He slipped on his skates making a save, and the other team found an opening to shoot but Sava was there! He was there, reaching over with his stick and deflecting the puck with just the tip of it.
“Wooow,” Emett whispers, his voice full of awe, and I can’t blame the kid. “Mommy, did you see that? Did you? Did you? You know what that means?”
