I’ve also been monitoring social media and thankfully, only blurry clips of our naked asses have made the cut.
“That’s my boy! See, the Hendricks charm works anywhere.”
Not in fountains, apparently.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hey, listen. Now that you’ve settled in, Jerry wanted to maybe do a segment with you next week. Kind of a ‘Day in the life’ sort of thing since you aren’t appearing much in this season of the show.”
Jerry…the only person who speaks to my dad more than me. He’s been the producer of the show since it started. The first two seasons were about his last two years in the NHL. Amelia and I weren’t in it at all, but then the mission creep started.
We were asked to say a few words about our father, then it turned into filming a couple of scenes. Unfortunately, my last two years of high school became major plot points, and my father was so caught up with pleasing the network and Jerry that he didn’t see how much I hated it.
“It’ll be quick and light,” he says when I don’t immediately say yes. “We’ll follow you to practice, grab a few interviews with your teammates. Bet they’d love that. Sound good?”
No. Say fucking no for the first time in your life.
This isn’t your dream. This is his.
Stop living in his fucking shadow for once.
“Uh…sure. Whatever you think.”
Coward.
“That’s the spirit! I’ve already signed off on it with Coach McKibbon and the Covey U dean. They’re both excited to be featured.”
“I bet they are,” I mutter.
Covey U isn’t exactly known for its hockey team. That’s one of the reasons I chose it. Since I already have a contract with the New York Vets, I don’t need to fight for attention—I’m going to get it later. This is a college with no TV deals, which I thought meant I’d have a chance to enjoy my time here quietly before the madness that is the NHL.
Should’ve known the circus would follow me.
“What was that?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Nothing. Just saying I’ll need to make sure the dorm’s clean before they roll in.”
“Perfect. That’s my guy—always prepared.” He pauses. “You doing okay, though? You sound tired.”
I hesitate. He’s opening it up for me to say something, but I can imagine his disappointed face if I do. It’s one afternoon. I can handle one freaking afternoon to make my father and the college happy.
“It’s just been a long week, that’sall.”
“Ah, make sure you’re resting. And, hey—don’t forget to have fun, huh? Remember, you’re twenty, not forty. Meet people. Date a little. Don’t overthink things. Life’s more than hockey.”
Says the guy whose entire life revolves around the sport.
“Yeah. I will.”
“Attaboy. Alright, I’ll let you go, but if you want to talk about anything, you know I’m here for you.”
“I know. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more. I’ll see you next week,” I respond automatically, even as I feel the weight of his expectations crushing down on me.
I end the call automatically, even as I feel the weight of his expectations crushing down on me. Then I slump onto the nearest bench, dropping my head into my hands.
Fucking cameras. Fucking TV show. Fucking expectations.
