He shakes his head in disbelief. “No, no, no, that can’t be right.” His face twists with confusion.
“Dad”—my voice breaks—“it’s Matt. I’m your son.”
He looks back at me like I’ve spoken a language he can’t understand. “You’re not my son. Now please leave. I need to rest.”
Shay’s hand finds my back, and I think it’s the only thing tethering me to reality because I’m fully prepared to run from it and never come back. My eyes burn. I feel like knives are slicing down my body and bleeding me dry.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t exist in a world where my dad is right there, but a million miles away.
“Dad.”
“Sharon?” my dad calls out, ignoring all of us around him and looking for my mom, unaware she’s right there.
“Matt, please go. I’m so sorry. Susie, our caregiver, and I will get him home safely. I think this … was just too much.” My mom cries and gently places a hand on my chest and pushes me back.
My body follows her orders because I’m nothing. My body’s worthless, a piece of meat, just taking up space. I’m frozen, completely unable to move as my mom sighs, grabs my dad’s shoulders, and walks him from the room, the door clicking shut behind him nearly sending me into space forever.
That didn’t just happen, right? That was all a figment of my imagination, or maybe it was a joke, and my dad is a really good actor in his old age. That must be it. They’ll walk back in here in a second and tell me how much they got me. And they did. It was really good.
My heart thumps in my ears, drowning out everything around me. After a few beats, I wait for the door to reopen, but after a few seconds more, my heart starts to shatter all over again.
That wasn’t real. That wasn’t my dad. It couldn’t have been.
He would’ve recognized me. He would’ve grabbed my hand and told me how excited he was to watch me play. He would’ve pulled me in for a hug, patted my back, and told me how proud he was of me. That’s what my dad would do. He wouldn’t look me in the face and tell me that he didn’t recognize me. It’s not possible.
I’m dreaming—that’s it. A nightmare, and I just need to wake up. That has to be …
A bone-breaking shudder runs through my body, and my inhale sounds like a cry for help as tears pool in my eyes and my lungs struggle to breathe.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I’m shaking, quivering to the core. My vision is spotting out, and tears race down my face.
He didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know who I was …
“Matt.” Shay’s voice is the only sound that breaks through the barrier.
I grab hold of the serene sound and cling tightly to it, praying it will guide me out of this hopeless cage.
“Matt. Look at me.”
My eyes shift into focus, and I realize I’m still standing in the family box, but with a quick glance around, I see it’s now empty. The only people in here are Shay and me.
“Matt,” she whispers again, timid and shy, like how you’d talk to a wild animal you’re trying to approach. “Look at me.”
I feel like I’ve been drugged, like I’m blinking in and out of reality. One minute, I’m hearing my dad coach me on the ice when I was a kid, and the next, I see the haunted look in his eyes as he struggles to put the pieces together. He’s lost, and I really wish I were right there with him right now. At least then, I wouldn’t feel likethis.
Blinking away the cloudiness, I meet Shay’s eyes, suddenly aware of her hands on my cheeks, holding my head in place. She’s crying too, and mindlessly, my hand finds her tears, gently wiping them away.
“Come on. Let’s go,” she murmurs, and I feel like I’d let her lead me to the edge of the world right now.
The sound of pucks on the ice wake me up enough to realize that I can’t just leave.
“Wait.” I stop her from tugging me away. “I can’t go.”
She turns back to me, uncertainty in her gaze. “You’re in no condition to play right now.”
I scoff, a humorless laugh leaving me that cuts me in two. “You can’t decide that, Shay. I’m fine. I’m going to play. That’s what I do. I put everything aside, and I get on the ice and do my damn job.”
