“Of course, that sounds amazing. Thank you for thinking of me, Nicole.”
“Thank you for making my son smile, Alex.”
I give them both an air hug as we say goodbye, and watch as they head out towards the ice so they can take their seats before warmups. Before pushing through the heavy double doors, Elliot turns, pulling the zipper on Franny’s front pocket.
“Wait, Goat, look!” He calls out from down the hall. I have to squint, but even from here, I can make out the wallet sized photo of Scarlett pinched between his fingers. He must have had it printed this morning, and my heart skips a beat in my chest.
I want to call it out now. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how much I love him, how much I want to be with him. But he deserves morethan a smelly hallway confession. Tonight, I decide. Tonight I’ll tell him everything.
“I love it,” I answer for now, holding my hands in the shape of a heart as I watch Elliot and his mom disappear through the doors.
“Holmes, what the fuck? Are you going to keep me waiting all night?” Coach Hannigan pops his head out of the press room, an impatient look crossing his features.
“Oh, I thought—” I start, furrowing my brows. I assumed that Elliot and Nicole were the people Coach Collins sent me out here to meet.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing me by the hand and pulling forward. “I don’t usually do this shit before games, but your father insisted.”
Time moves in slow motion as I’m yanked past the threshold of the press room. Standing on the small, lifted stage with his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a suit that costs more than some people’s first cars is my father. His hair is slicked back, shoes polished until they gleam, and he’s giving off the “I’m better than you” attitude he perfected at a young age. Even so, I can see the glassy look in his eyes from here, and I know that if I were to get close enough, his breath would reek of whiskey and the spearmint mouthwash he tries to cover it with.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Coach says, retreating out the door. “When you’re finished, Holmes, I want you dressed and on the ice, ASAP.”
“I’ll have him out shortly, Hannigan. This will only take a minute,” my father says, never taking his eyes off me. I hear the door click shut, and then the pounding of blood in my ears is the only sound in the room. The heat of Dad’s gaze burns through me, and I can’t help but notice how much he’s changed since the last time I saw him three years ago. His hair is almost completely gray, the wrinkles by his eyes sagging into the purple bags below that I know he covers with concealer. He’s thinner, everywhere but his middle, which tells me the most calories he’s been getting lately can be found at the bottom of a bottle. He looks as pathetic and weak as he tried to make me feel growing up. If I didn’t hate him, I might pity him.
“Who did you have to pay off to get back here?” I ask, breaking the silence simmering between us. Dad scoffs.
“That Coach of yours is a real ass-kisser. It only took one promised donation to the Thunder Foundation and he arranged this little meeting, no questions. If he was smart, he would have bargained for more than a measly million, but I learned from you that hockey players aren’t the brightest bulbs.”
“And Mom?” I ask. “She didn’t want to join you in this delightful little family reunion?”
“Your mother is in Vail, no doubt sucking off her ski instructor as we speak.”
I stifle a gag at the foul image, though I’m used to the degrading way my parents talk about each other.
“And since you haven’t bothered to answer any of my calls lately?—”
“What do you want, Dad?” I say, cutting him off. There’s no reason not to get right to the point. He knows why I don’t answer when he calls, just like I know he’s not here to bestow his well wishes upon me.
“You’re an embarrassment, Alexander. You’re making a fool of this family, and I won’t have it anymore.”
Dad steps closer with each word, and the stink of alcohol on him makes my stomach churn.
“I’m an embarrassment to you, the sky is blue, pizza tastes good. This is all common knowledge. Was it really that important that you had to pull me out of the locker room before a game to remind me?”
“I tolerated your bullshit when you were in Boston. No one gave two shits about you there. You could play your ridiculous game and pretend that wielding a stick on skates made you a man, even if you spent your time off the ice wearing your fruityoutfits and acting like a bitch. But now that the media is paying attention to you and this team, I won’t have it any longer.”
My eyes roll so far back into my head that for a second, I’m worried they might get stuck back there.
“You came all the way from Chicago to tell me you don’t like my clothes? What a waste of carbon emissions. Newsflash, man, I didn’t give a shit what you thought about me when I was a teenager and you tried to beat my personality out of me with your belt, and I especially don’t give a shit now.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’ve let you get away with too much, but it’s over now. You want to be a silly little hockey player? Fine. But you’ll do so in a way that brings respect to our family’s name.”
“I could not give less of a fuck about our family’s name if I tried. Why don’t you save us both the trouble of trying to change me and just publicly disown me? Then I can continue to live my life not thinking about you and Mom, and the two of you can continue to drink yourselves to death while pretending like your place in society will matter after you’re gone.”
I turn to leave, my motions slower than I’d like since I’m restricted by all my padding.
“I’ll cut you off,” Dad threatens, and I snort.
“Dude, I haven’t touched my trust fund. Notonce. The last thing I took from you was my college tuition. Want it back? I’ll cut you a check right now. Just fucking leave me alone.”
