Chapter 1
“You should goto the beach, baby. You used to love taking pictures of the ocean when we lived in California…Oh, fiddlesticks!”
The sound of pots crashing interrupts my grandma’s daily attempt to cheer me up from the melancholy I’ve had since being traded from New York to Florida. Her points are all valid. I hated the cold, a coastal town is a jackpot for my photography hobby, and thisisa better financial opportunity. Of course, none of this makes leaving my old team behind worth it. But when your coach sits you down and tells you it’s either move to the sunny state of Florida or sit on the bench, well…you make the transfer. As much as I’ve moved around in my life, I never expected this to bother me as much as it has. I was with that group of boys for five years. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, and although I know the chances of staying with the same team for an entire hockey career aren’t great, it’s not impossible.
I’m lost in my head when Grandma speaks up again. “You always complained about the weather here anyway. I’m sure once you get to know your new team, all the pieces will fall into place.”
“Thanks, I’m sure it’s just the moving blues. Are yousureyou’re okay up there without me?”
This is also the first time I’ve lived more than twenty minutes away from Grandma, and the distance is another reason I’m not thrilled about the move. Not that I didn’ttryto get her to move with me. New York was the first time she’s been able to settle down since I was born, and she apparently has “a community” now that she doesn’t want to leave. I don’t blame her for wanting to stay, and after all she’s done for me, she deserves it. My sperm donor was never in my life, and Mom was in the military, so Grandma stepped in to help raise me. She traveled the country with us and was my primary caretaker while Mom was deployed. I loved my mom, but she lacked the compassion and softness of her mother.
“Yes, baby, I’m sure. It’s long past time for you to fly the coop. Plus, I’ve still got Thatch up here. In fact, that’s him now. Hold on, Teddybear!”
“Um, okay, sure…” I respond to nobody, apparently. One minute, I’m watching my grandma prepare her famous chicken potpie, and the next, it’s just an empty kitchen. The muted squeak of the old wooden door opening is followed by the undeniable voice of my best friend.
“Thanks so much for inviting me over, Grandma Dubs!”
“You know you’re welcome anytime, Thatch! I didn’t expect you to come over as much with Teddy gone!”
The two make their way back into my view, Thatcher with his arm wrapped tightly around my grandma.
“It smellsincredible, Mrs. Williams! What are you making?”
Grandma pulls out her dish from the oven, seeming to have forgotten all about me with the new attention of her company. “You know I couldn’t invite you over without making your favorite!”
Thatcher’s face lights up, bringing a genuine smile to my own.It’s only been a week since I’ve seen him, but I miss that goofy grin.“You haven’t made a potpie in over a month! I’ve been going through withdrawals!”
“I know, I know, but Teddy always preferred a roast, and you know how grumpy he gets about food.”
“Hey guys, I’mrighthere! I love your chicken potpie, thank you very much, and I donotget grumpy about food!”
My tantrum briefly catches their attention before they turn back to each other, laughing. It’s infectious, and as much as it pains me that I’m not there to join in with them in person, I can’t help but relish the joy. Seeing the two most important people in my life happy makes me feel at peace for the first time since moving. Sure, it’s just through a screen, but suddenly, the distance doesn’t feel so daunting.
“You want me to prop the phone up at your place setting and pretend you’re eating with us?” Thatch asks, taking the dish from Grandma.
“Oh, that would be nice, Teddybear! You can heat one of those microwave meals I know you have in your freezer and pretend it’s real food.”
“Nah, you guys enjoy your meal. I’m actually going out in a bit.”
“A date?” Grandma squeals.
I roll my eyes. “No, Grandma, it’s not a date. I’m just meeting some of the guys on the team for a beer.”
“Okay,” she drawls. “But you know I’m not getting any younger, right? I want to see you happy with someone. Maybe get to be there for your wedding, hold your child…”
“Whoa.” Thatcher laughs. “We have to get the guy to go ona second date with a girl before we start talking about babies, Grandma Dubs!”
“Alright, alright.” Grandma sighs. “Well, you enjoy your night, baby! Let us know what you think about the new team!”
After saying our goodbyes, I toss my phone on the sofa and walk onto the balcony. It’s a lovely afternoon, and I can just see the coast from my condo with the sun setting over the water. It’s the perfect scene to photograph, but even in all its beauty, I haven’t felt inspired. Along with hockey, photography has been a constant throughout my life, but recently, the thought of picking up my camera makes me nauseous. It’s just a reminder that this isn’t forever, either. Falling in love with this city, getting comfortable here and making a home, and making friends with the guys on the team will only hurt worse when I have to move again.
I had gotten used to all the moving until New York. I had nothing to compare it to, but now that I’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like to really have a home, that’s all I want. It doesn’t help that this trade came out of nowhere in the middle of the season. Don’t get me wrong, getting to play for the Rising Tide is a great opportunity. They’re a better team than the Phantoms, and the money is better too. It’s a promotion any professional athlete would die for, but something still just doesn’t seem right about it all.
Nonstop buzzing draws my attention to my phone, which is blowing up with notifications from my new team group chat. I’ve always loved reading the dumb crap the guys come up with, even if I don’t respond often myself. This one doesn’t even pique my interest. Sighing, I leave my phone where it is and head into my room to freshen up for the night and mentally prepare myself to socialize. Not only is the idea of a night at a new bar with newfriends tiring, but thinking about coming home to this lifeless condo makes it hard to even breathe.
The bare walls and generic furniture make this place seem more like a prison than the luxurious residence expected of a successful professional athlete. The fantasy of a home filled with love and color flitters across my mind. A wife whose warmth and kind heart match her beauty, teetering on her tiptoes to reach me for a kiss. Children running around us, filling the entire home with the echo of their laughter. A family to come home to after every practice, cheering for me through all my games. A purpose more meaningful by far than any record broken or trophy won.
My upbringing taught me the harsh lesson that love like that is rare. It’s far more likely to either be used by someone who just wants a paycheck or chased for the chance to be a hockey girlfriend on social media. I know Grandma wishes I weren’t so jaded, but as much as she tried to raise me to be an optimist, Mom still managed to imbue a hefty dose of her realism in my heart.
