"And apparently there was a video of an EM that went viral, whatever the fuck that means, for passing a stick to a player mid-skate," he grumbles. "I will not lie to you, son. I’ve never been big on flair—it’s all about hard work and keeping our heads down in Seattle. But apparently, that doesn’t play well with the fans. If you can do both, be here no later than the second Monday in July. I’m having my assistant reach out with the paperwork right now. I hope to see you in a few weeks, Max. I have to go now."
The phone cuts off before I can reply, but it buzzes in my hand with an incoming email. My heart beats so loudly I can hear it as I scan the contents of the message. The salary is insane, and the details seem to be in order. It’s crazy and fast—but if I’ve learned anything about this sport, it’s that you don’t turn down an opportunity when it comes because they’re few and far between.
Despite feeling like I might vomit from the unknown and the speed with which this is happening, I type out a reply accepting the position, tuck my phone back into my pocket, and head out to grab Benny.
Holy shit, I’m going pro—sort of.
"Ma, where are you?"
Pushing through the front door of my parents' home, I’m greeted with the scent of apple pie and the sound of music drifting in from the back porch. I put Benny down, unclipping his leash, and he jumps and shimmies his hindquarters in excitement. He either loves my parents' house, or he’s just associated it with one too many dog treats.
"Out here," she returns.
After my walk with Sadie, I spent most of the day helping at the booth. Mom wonQueen of the Claw, a surprise to no one, so we’re all coming over to celebrate. It’s a tradition that’s been running for at least ten years now, and it always involves pie. There’s no way I could turn it down.
Walking down the long hallway and out onto the back porch, I’m a mix of nerves. I wanted to tell my family about the job all day. But mid-lobster dressing didn’t feel like the most appropriate timing. Benny pushes on the screen door with his nose, and it pops open effortlessly.
"Oh, let me see my grand-dog." Mom springs out of her chair, kneeling to the ground so Benny can attack her with kisses. "What are you doing here so early?" She looks up at me, a knowing furrow on her brow.
"There’s something I wanted to talk to you about." I reach down, scooping Benny up so I can hold on to him for this. Sliding onto the loveseat, I settle in. "I received a job offer."
"Oh? I didn’t realize you had interviewed." She glances around, likely looking for my dad. When she spots him fiddling with the fire pit, she calls out, "Patrick, come here for a minute, please."
My dad, the ever-obedient husband, saunters over and slips onto a chair next to my mom.
"As I was saying, I got a job offer. Coach Perkins connected me a few days ago, and it all happened really quickly."
"That’s great news, Max. I’m proud of you, son." Dad reaches over, patting my arm.
Mabel crosses her arms, worry etched on her expression. "How far away are you moving?"
My mouth gapes. How does she always know what’s really going on?
"You wouldn’t have come over so early to break the news if it was local, just rip the band-aid off, Max. I can take it."
My dad clutches the arm of the chair he’s sitting in like he’s bracing for whatever I’m going to say—or maybe for her reaction. My heart beats so hard I can hear it in my ears, and a lump forms in my throat.
"Seattle."
"What!" Mom shrieks so loudly that Benny covers his eyes with his paw and shakes. "Coach Nash is an icon. I’m so happy for you." She jumps from her seat, clapping and bouncing like I just told her I got picked up for the NHL—as a player.
"To be clear, you’re not mad right now?" I ask as Benny leaps from his spot, following my mom as she dances around the porch.
"Mad? Why would she be mad, Maxwell?" My dad smiles as he watches my mom, only stopping for a second to frown in my direction.
I pick at Benny’s fur that’s stuck to my t-shirt, avoiding his gaze. "It’s really far away. I’ve never left home. None of us have." My words almost get stuck in my throat, and the emotion bubbling inside of me is thick enough to choke on.
Dad grabs my hand, and Mom stops her dance, doing the same with the other. "Max, we only want you to be happy. Of course, it would have been great if you had stayed close, but we didn’t raise you kids to settle for less than you deserve. This is a great opportunity, and even though we are going to miss you like crazy, we are astonished by your talent and your kind heart," Mom says, squeezing my hand.
I wipe a tear that’s fallen down my face. I’m relieved that they are supportive. I hoped they would be. But I’m also terrified of being out there on my own. It sounds ridiculous for a twenty-eight-year-old man to be nervous, but I guess change is hard no matter your age and no matter how exciting it is.
The front door of the house opens with a thud, signaling that my siblings are starting to arrive. Mom takes Benny inside withher to get the pie and champagne ready, and Dad returns to the fire pit. Pulling out my phone, I text the only person I want to talk to right now.
You were right.
Sadie/Smart/Witty/Definitely Cursed
I usually am… but about what?
