No.Just played Xbox, then ate the pizza you left in the microwave.
I wait for him to tell me more, but he stays silent.I guess that’s it.
Did Mr.Alverez come by to check on you?
I know the instant the words are out of my mouth, asking about our neighbour, that I’ve made a mistake.
I don’t need a babysitter.I can take care of myself.
I know you can, Joey, but it gives me peace of mind while I’m working that someone else is looking out for you.
Whatever,he grumbles, scrunching his face up, then goes to rub both eyes.He stopped by but didn’t stay long.He slides back off the sofa, already turning toward the hallway again.’Kay, I’m going back to bed.Remember to set your alarm.
I blink, stunned.Why is he telling me to set an alarm?My alarm?Why?
He pauses, confused by my confusion.For practice tomorrow.
My soul tries to leave my body.Practice?I repeat, stalling for time.Are you sure?It’s—uh—Sunday.This can’t be right.Sundays are my day off.My day of rest and binge eating while I watch dumb reality shows.
Joey gives me a look that could only be described asMother, please.Not practice-practice.The charity thing.Goals for Good.
What charity thing is he talking about?I search my brain, trying to find the answer.I catch Joey’s eye, and the look he’s giving me has my shoulders going tight with tension.
Goals for Good…Oh!Yes!The mental health fundraiser his team volunteered for.At the community centre.With a rotating schedule of parents supervising.Parents like…
I groan.Sweetheart, remind me what exactly ‘the charity thing’ involves.
Yousaid we had to go early,he chirps.Because it gets busy.And my favourite player is gonna be there.Remember?You’re doing drinks or whatever and my team is teaching skating techniques to the younger players.Remember,he says again with more bite to his words.
Oh no.
Alright, Joey.Tone down the attitude for a second, will you?I just got off work, and my brain is tired.I remember now, yes.I take a deep breath, needing a second to compose myself.And who did you say was going to be there again?I ask weakly, blanking on who his current favourite is.It changes every hockey season.
Sidney Crane!Joey whisper-shouts, as if invoking a sacred name.
I close my eyes.Past Eddie was a fool.A reckless, overly optimistic fool who clearly believed Future Eddie would have eight hours of sleep, no lower back pain, and would be ecstatic to volunteer on a Sunday morning.
That’s right,I say, because what else can I say?Yes.Right.It’s his charity.
Joey’s face slowly morphs from extra annoyed to mildly annoyed by my lack of memory.Giving me a slow nod, he turns away again.Don’t forget your alarm.Coach said we gotta be there early-early so we get our team name tags and skates on before the little kids get there.
Yep.I try to sound enthusiastic and not like I want to lie face first on the carpet.I pull myself to my feet, my whole body silently screaming at me.Alarm.Definitely.
I walk in his direction with my arms extended, shooting my shot and seeing if I can get a hug out of him in his semi-sleepy state.I’m a foot away when he dodges me and runs back into his room, slamming the door.He leaves the scent of sweat and something sour in his wake.
I’m too tired to even contemplate what that smell is.Getting him to shower is a morning item to tackle.If I have the mental brainpower to even remember that.God, how could I be so stupid?I really need to start keeping a better calendar in my phone for all of Joey’s extra hockey events.
Games and practices, I can remember no problem.It’s all the add-ons and random events that go in one ear and right out the other.
Night, Mom,he yells through the closed door.
I smile, feeling a warm tingle in my chest.Night, bud,I say back at a more reasonable level.We don’t live in a mansion.We don’t need to scream to be heard in this townhouse.
Walking into the kitchen, I grab a can of sparkling water from the fridge and then slump my upper body over the counter.I let my head fall to the cool laminate and let out a tortured sigh.Fantastic,I mutter.Six-o’clock wake-up.On my day off.I’m going to have to splurge tomorrow and buy an extra-large coffee.
Still…Joey’s excitement would be worth it.It always is.Hockey is his happy place, the thing that lights him up from the inside.I’d walk into a burning building for that smile.
Even if tomorrow morning is going to feel like torture.
