“I mean, I won’t takeher,” Anna says. “Assuming you’d keep her for me. But Miles plays better when I’m there.”
Something about her statement makes my heart pinch. I love that she loves watching Miles play. And that she’s so willing to be there for him, even so soon after having a baby.
It just makes me wish I could do the same thing. Be there for Carter enough that he feels like he plays better when I’m watching.
“Of course I’ll watch her,” I say. “You know I will.”
“Mommy, can we watch another episode?” Poppy asks.
Anna tosses Poppy the remote. “Just one more,” she says. “Then it’s bedtime for you both.” Anna shifts her attention back to me. “What was that face for?” she asks.
“What face?”
“The face you made when I said I wanted to go to a game. Are you thinking I shouldn’t? I really don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s not like I’ll do anything but sit there.”
“That’s not it,” I say. “I was just…” I scrunch my eyes closed, then peek one open to see Anna looking at me, expression curious. “I think…” I start to say. I look down at Fiona, readjusting the bottle. She’s almost finished, and her eyes are getting heavy. “I think I’m ready to work through my panic attacks. I want to watch Carter play. I want to show up for him like he shows up for me.”
Anna’s expression softens. “I wondered if you might wind up here. The fact that you have—I think it means you love him, Sarah.”
My face flushes with heat at the thought. I put the bottle down and lift Fiona to my shoulder, patting her on the back to help her burp. “Maybe I do? That feels like such a big word. I just know I can’t stop thinking about him. Also, he kissed me this morning before he left and…Anna, I’ve never had a kiss feel like that. I think…he might be really special. And suddenly the sadness I feel overnotbeing there for him feels worse than the fear making me stay away.”
“That’s a really big deal,” she says softly. “And I’m really,reallyhappy for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course! He’s a great guy. And the two of you seemreally good together,” she says. “So what are you going to do?”
“No clue,” I say. “Call my therapist? Practice watching games at home? I don’t even know where to start.”
“I think your therapist is agreatplace to start,” Anna says.
“Yeah. I just feel like it shouldn’t be this hard. Intellectually, I understand that Miles is fine. Fighting is a part of the game?—”
“But not every game,” Anna adds. “I think they play more gameswithoutfights.”
I nod. “Right. I totally get that. But even when theydofight, I know Miles is never actually out of control. It’s not the same as…” My voice cracks, and I close my eyes, suddenly grateful to have the grounding presence of Fiona in my arms.
“As it was with your dad,” Anna says, finishing the sentence I can’t finish on my own.
I nod. “If I know that, why can’t I get through this?”
“Because your nervous system doesn’t care what you think you know,” Anna says gently. “Triggers don’t always make sense. Especially when they’re rooted in trauma. And Sarah, your childhood was really traumatic. Don’t berate yourself over this. It’s honestly a miracle that this is the worst of what you’re dealing with.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “But how is Miles okay? Dad never hitme.It was always Miles. He’s the one who really suffered.”
Anna reaches over and squeezes my knee. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t also traumatic for you. Besides, Miles hasn’t always been okay. You were too young to really see or understand, but he had a hard time when he first joined the league. He struggled to keep his anger in check, had terrible impulse control. Eventually, it started to impact his play. Ifnot for Coach Kimzey, I’m not sure he would have made it through.”
“Coach Kimzey? The Jaguars coach?”
“He was a player then. Captain of Miles’s team in Boston.”
I sniff. “How did I not know that?”
“I didn’t for a long time,” Anna says. “This was all before we met, and it’s taken me years to pry all of the details out of him. But the long and short of it is that Kyle—Coach Kimzey—pulled Miles aside and told him if he didn’t get himself into therapy and take care of his mental health, he’d never pass him another puck again.”
“And it worked?”
Anna nods. “Yeah. It did. Miles was barely twenty years old, trying to live on his own, sending seventy percent of what he earned back to Canada for you and your mom. I think he understood that if he threw away his career, he was also throwing away his ability to take care of you.”
