And the only reason they allowed me to visit when I did was because I told them that I’d promised Hunter I’d look after Hailey. Near the end, when we all knew he wasn’t going to make it no matter how hard he fought, I was visiting him in the hospital, and he made me promise.
The antiseptic smell of the hospital tickles my nose, and I rub it absently, setting the football in my hand on the bed next to his legs. I can’t wait until Hunter’s finally beaten this and I don’t have to come here every day to hang out with him. “We’ll play catch when you’re finally out,” I say, ignoring the bandage on his bald head.
He’s recovering from another surgery. They said it’ll be his last.
He laughs weakly, adjusting his bed to make sitting up easier. “Sounds good, man,” he says, reaching for the football. “Think you can manage to keep ahold of it?”
He lobs the ball to me in an underhand toss, and I have to dive to catch it because his throw is so weak. I swallow hard against the worry rising in my throat like a lump. It’s the medicine, probably. And the surgery.
That was what made his parents take him to the doctor, though. He’d been complaining of headaches, and sometimes he’d stumble when we’d run, which was weird, but then one day he could barely move his right arm. I remember how terrified he was at school when it happened. I helped him to the office, where he called his parents, who took him to the ER. I wanted to go with him, but was told I needed to stay at school, that he’d be taken care of and I needed to worry about myself. I’d been in the middle of being scouted for the OHL draft, and while I cared about that, I was also really worried about Hunter.
They found the tumor, started treatment right away to shrink the tumor before even trying to get it out, did the first surgery the summer before our junior year, didn’t get it all, and they’ve gone in twice more to try to get the rest. No one tells me a lot of details, so I’m not sure why it’s so complicated, other than brains are complicated. Hunter didn’t even get to play football this year, and I don’t know what that’ll mean about his ability to play college ball, which has always been his plan.
We’ve both been dreaming of going pro since we were kids. He’s going to play for the Green Bay Packers, and my plan’s always been to play for the Blackhawks. I’m on my way toward my dream, with the Ontario Hockey League draft happening in a couple of months. I’ll be off to play for a Major Junior League team, and then I can enter the NHL draft in a couple of years. I was invited to the OHL draft last year, but I held off becauseHunter needed surgery. I didn’t want to leave until I knew my best friend would be better.
Now, at least, he’s done with the surgeries. Or that’s what I’ve overheard.
I hoped he’d be doing better than he is by now, though.
Hunter stares at me for a long moment, his face serious. “Did they tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I ask, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. When he doesn’t answer right away, I shrug. “They said this was your last surgery.”
Looking away, he nods. “They can’t do any more,” he rasps. “They can’t get it all. The tumor keeps growing back. They said—” he cuts off, swallowing hard before meeting my eyes again. “They said I only have a few more months. That I’m being moved to palliative care.”
“Palliative …?”
“Pain management. No more chemo.”
“But …” He’s saying all these words, but they don’t make sense to me. “I thought …”
“I know,” he whispers.
We’re silent for a moment, the sounds drifting in from the hallway feeling like another world.
“Did you know?” I ask.
“Did I know that this was the last-ditch effort?” he clarifies, and I dip my chin in a nod. Looking away, he nods too. “Yeah.” The word is a rasp.
My fingers tighten around the football, a flash of anger running through me. Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he wait until now to tell me he was dying? Why let me believe there was hope?
“I needed you to keep hoping,” he whispers, answering the questions I didn’t give voice to. “I needed you to be the believer you’ve always been. My parents …” He swallows hard. “Theyknew. They’ve been preparing themselves for me to die every time I’ve had surgery. Every time I fuckingsneeze, they act like my heart’s going to stop. I just needed someone to believe I could make it so that I could try to believe it too.” He turns his head to face me again. “Until we knew there was no more hope left.”
My throat is clogged, and I can’t speak. I can barely breathe. And when I try, I make this horrible gasping sob that makes me slap my hand over my mouth so I don’t ever make that sound again.
Hunter watches me, giving me a moment to get control of myself, and though I can see tears forming in his own eyes, he doesn’t let them fall. “I need you to promise me something,” he says, his voice thick despite his refusal to cry.
“What? Anything.”
“Watch out for Hailey. She’s supposed to grow up with a big brother, and …” He pauses, takes a shuddering breath, clears his throat, and pushes on. “I need you to do that for me. Make sure she doesn’t date any assholes. Tease her. Play catch with her. Teach her how to defend herself if a guy gets too handsy. I was planning on doing that this year, but …” He lifts a hand and lets it fall, letting me fill in the blank. “Promise.”
“Of course.”
“I need to hear you say the words.”
“I promise,” I whisper, unable to make my voice come out any louder. I don’t know if it’s just that Hunter’s had more time to wrap his head around the idea that he’s dying or that he has better control of his emotions than I do, but no amount of throat clearing makes my voice louder or steadier. “I promise I’ll look after Hailey. I’ll show her all the things you didn’t get to.” She’s practically been like a little sister to me, too, after all. That shouldn’t be difficult.
I didn’t know when I made that promise how difficult it would end up being in reality. How hard his parents would work to keep me away, even after I told them Hunter’d made me promise to watch out for her. They said they were okay with it, even if they never acted like it. And then I moved to Ontario to play for the OHL, and I only came home a few times a year to visit before I got drafted to the NHL and traded around until I ended up in Seattle playing for the Emeralds.
