I shake my head. She looks relieved until I speak.
“The GM called me into his office. New York.” My voice cracks on that last word. I hold my head in my hands, elbows propped on my knees.
“Oh, honey. It’ll be okay. It’s supposed to be beautiful this time of year, right? And they have plenty of good schools. We can take turns visiting.” She rubs my shoulder up and down softly. The same way she always has when I receive news that is too big to handle. Like she did when I found out my son had been born and I’d missed it. When she told me my father died. “You’ve built a house here that you can spend the off-season in.”
I try to put on my brave face, but the tears still fall. I give her a small smile. “Sure mom.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got Scotty here too. Don’t you feel any guilt or worry for me ok? Youjust keep living out your dream. Lord knows you’ve worked so hard for it.”
All I can do is nod and wipe my tears with my shirt sleeve.
The side door slams shut, and a young man stalks off to the beat-up Ford in the driveway, kicking dust up behind him every step he takes. I swear I hear a sniffle. Seems like it’s a day for bad days.
My baby sister, Presley, comes bouncing out of the front door a moment later. She falls unceremoniously into the chair next to me, long black hair falling over the back of it. “Hey, T.”
“Hey, sis.” I glance over my shoulder again to where the kid is peeling out of the drive. “What’s all that about?”
“Hm? Oh, Bradley? I got accepted to NYU, so I broke up with him. No point waiting until January.” She shrugs. My momma's mouth drops open.
“Congratulations, That’s amazing!” I say at the same time my momma’s voice comes out sterner.
“Presley Bridges! Don’t tell me you were so careless with his heart.”
“No, momma. I let him down easy, Promise.” She says earnestly but shoots me a sneaky wink. Presley has never softened herself for anyone and I wouldn’t want her any other way. She pullsout a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. She passes me the pack with the lighter.
“I wish y'all would put that bad habit down and leave it in the rearview.” Momma chides.
“I’m tryin’. It ain’t helping me with hockey, that’s for sure.” I say through the cigarette between my lips. I cup one hand around the lighter to block it from the breeze.
“I’m not. I like them. This one’s kinda minty.” Presley grins.
She’s young to have picked up this bad habit from me. Nineteen and ready to take on the world. How different mine looked at that age.
I was a single father, running myself into the ground trying to pursue my hockey career. I got drafted at nineteen, two months before I found out I was a father. I had no time to prepare, no heads up. Just if you want him, come get him.
I shake my head to clear my head of the painful memory.
“Looks like we’ll both be in New York next year.” I try to sound optimistic, but it falls a little flat. I snuff out the smoke and leave it in the ash tray.
“We can visit all the time. Don’t tell the others but you’re my favourite brother.” She whispers conspiratorially.
“You think I don’t know you say that to all of us?” I squint at her playfully and ruffle her hair before standing.
I let momma know I’m gonna go check on Matty and give her a kiss on the cheek. As often as I travel, he has his own room here on my parents' ranch. It's my old one.
A lot of the hockey memorabilia is still hung on the walls since Matty plays too but it's also got a lego table and a lot of other age-appropriate toys for him now. He also wanted to paint the walls blue and put up little decals of a cowboy riding a bronco. It's cozy here as his home away from home and I hate that I have to rip him away from this place and our family.
He's lying face down on his bed with his arm stuffed under the pillows to prop his face up. Matty isn't an emotional kid in comparison to his cousins, so this display is unusual for him.
I sit carefully on the edge of the bed and put a firm and comforting hand on his shoulder like my dad had done so many times in this same room.
Unlike Matty, I was very emotional as a kid and this was a weekly occurrence. My dad always showed nothing but calm patience through it all so that's what I try to do.
“Matty? What's the matter, son?” The second he hears my voice he jumps up and hugs me around the neck sniffling. I run my hand over the short sandy brown hair that resembles mine.
He launches into a story about how he liked a girl named Skylar, but he was too scared to hug her at recess. He asked hisex-bestfriend to invite her to play with them because Matty was too shy.
“And dad…She's soo pretty.Like the prettiest. And everyone in class likes her because she's so nice and smells like sunshine…” I'm nodding along to his rant not sure how this story ends with him face down on his bed. I'm not sure I love the idea of my nine-year-old already noticing girls. “And then, ugh dad you won't believe it.”
