“Yeah. Coach being Coach. Need to keep my head in the game but rest, yadda, yadda.” I pull off a skate.
He chuckles under his breath. “Makes sense. You are a little high-strung this time of year.” Probably because my parents are busy as hell with their marketing firm in Chicago and then always suddenly decide that Christmas is the most important day of the year.
“I’m just waiting for my mom to drop the bomb that it’s her usual festivity time.”
“Fair enough. Hey, doesn’t Seb’s sister still live in your building?”
His question gets my full attention. “Yeah, why?”
He rolls a shoulder back. “Nothing. Just wondering.”
“No, you weren’t. So, what is it?”
He scratches his cheek while he takes a break from removing his pads. “Heard she was single. I mean, she has a kid, but the dad isn’t around if I remember Seb mentioning once.”
I still don’t know the full story, and it’s none of my business either. “Point being?”
“Maybe she can brighten your mood.”
I rub a towel across my face. “Nah. I’m good.” Though it might already be happening.
“Okay. Well, the missus wanted me to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Thanks, but I think I will just take a down dayand call my parents. They wanted me to drive out to the city, but they will have to settle with a simple call.”
He stands and looks at me, unimpressed. “Geez. That sounds miserable. Well, if you change your mind.”
I give him a nod. “I know where to go.”
Charlie walks toward the showers, and for some reason, it feels as though I stay behind to wallow.
But I get my shit together, and thirty minutes later, I’m dressed and stop in town for a coffee. As much as I hate this time of year, it would be a lie if I said it didn’t hit different on Main Street. The atmosphere seems to cause people to be extra friendly, and the twinkly lights are not all that bad. I consider running into one of the boutiques. I do most of my shopping online, but my mom is crazy about the candles in this store up on the corner. Special scented or something like that.
As if she has a sixth sense, my phone vibrates, and fishing it out of my pocket with one hand, I see her name across the screen. Hitting accept, I bring the phone to my ear and say hello.
“There’s my son who is horrible at communication and leaving his dear old but young mom wondering if he is still alive and not eaten by a pack of wolves.” She is teasing me because she can never be mad.
I smile wryly. “Sorry. I’ve been busy with the season.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You played a good game the other night, but that’s all the hockey talk you’ll get. Your dad is wondering if he can ship you more Matchbox mezcal or beer for gifts to your friends.”
“Geez. I know my uncle owns the company, but that doesn’t mean I need to stockpile in my home. He’s doing well enough. Doesn’t need me to advertise the brand.” He’s doing more than alright. For years, my uncle Max and his friendshave had a little investment in the Matchbox brand of mezcal and beer. They signed a pretty hefty distribution deal way back, and of course, I volunteered to do a few social media posts for them, but my services are done.
I can picture her warm smile on the other end. “Listen, I know Thanksgiving is a no-go with your schedule. Your aunts and uncles, cousins, and everyone remotely related will miss you at dinner. Maybe we can do a family call? Anyhow, we don’t get you for Thanksgiving, but maybe Christmas?”
“I don’t know. I kind of just want to take it easy. Our schedule has been a killer, with a lot of back-to-back games.”
“I’m your mom, so I don’t really have to ask, but I thought I would anyhow. Since you won’t take the drive to Chicago, then maybe we’ll come to you. Your sister couldn’t swing enough time off to make her trip from Amsterdam worth it.” My older sister Luna is the apple of their eye and can wrap my dad around her finger in record time, but she is currently living abroad for a six-month job assignment. “Would you like it if we show up? Or will you play nice and invite us?” Now I’m grinning because Layla Ives takes no prisoners, all while she smiles, satisfied.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s better than a no. Now what about Thanksgiving? Please do something. Surely a teammate is hosting a dinner.”
If I had a free hand, then I would rub my face in exasperation, but alas. “Yeah, one of the guys is doing something, so that’s an option. I’m just going to see what I feel like.”
“Okay. I’ll check up on you to make sure you don’t stay home all day.”
“Got the memo. Need to run. Have Fun. Talk soon,” I list then hang up. I’m sure I will get a text in five seconds that I forget to sayI love you.
