In that moment, it barely even registered that a goal was scored.
They just had to pick this out, didn’t they? Every time I think about those three weeks, I can feel that emptiness opening up inside me again.
On the TV, it switches over to Cauler grouped up with his team celebrating a win, his teammates looking to him for guidance during a stoppage in play. The captain’s C on his Gamblers jersey at only seventeen years old. All while Alyssa and Hugh talk about his leadership abilities and his overall passion for the game and how that makes him so much more valuable than me in the long run. I watch the whole thing unblinking, until my eyes go blurry and I have to close them.
The guys start up now, and even though I know there’s shouting and laughter and everyone talking over one another, it’s all muffled by the sound of my own breathing, harsh and unsteady.
I lower my head and press my fingers into my temples.
It’s so obvious. I’m so obvious. Why can’t anyone see what’s really going on? I love hockey. I do. I swear. My brain just doesn’t let me show it or feel it or … or …
“You okay, dude?” Dorian’s hushed voice cuts through my haze, making me flinch. He’s turned toward me, leaning in close. The TV’s muted again, and Zero and Kovy have regathered everyone’s attention, but I notice the sideways glances the boys keep shooting my way.
“I’m fine?” My tongue feels sluggish. Like it takes a whole minute to say two words.
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. Not easy to listen to a couple grown-ass adults tear apart your personality.”
I blink at him. He starts fidgeting when I don’t say anything, just staring at him blankly. “Not like they’re wrong,” I say, trying to make it less awkward for him. Judging by the way his jaw slackens, it didn’t work.
My phone vibrates again. Dorian looks down before I do, eyes going wide and a smile cracking through that sad look he’d been giving me. “Your dad’s calling,” he says, all giddy and starstruck.
My brain feels fuzzy.
The phone buzzes two more times before I slowly stand and answer the call on my way out of the tape room. No one tries to stop me.
“Hello.” My voice is miles away. I step out into the hallway where all the Royals alum who ever did anything in the NHL or Olympics are honored. Including oversize murals of Dad and Grampa as teenagers.
“Hey, Mick!” Dad says. “How are things going? How’s the team?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Yeah.”
A long pause.
“Give me some details, bud,” he says. “Tell me about practices. You excited for your home opener this weekend?”
“Sure.”
Another pause. “How are you adapting to the wing?” His voice is strained like he’s desperately trying to hang on to the conversation.
“Okay.”
“Coach Campbell knows the game. He wouldn’t put you in a role he didn’t think you could excel in.”
“I know.”
“Your mom and I are planning on coming out to a game next month.”
“Oh,” I say, a little more life coming into my voice. I slap a hand to my forehead and drag it down my face. Mom and Dad usually make it out to at least one game a season. You’d think being retired athletes they’d have the free time to make it to more than that. But they’ve taken up youth coaching. I try not to let it bother me, but it was Dad who taught me how to skate. How to put on my gear. How to hold a stick. And now he’s too busy to be there to see what came of the work. After Dad, I had youth coaches of my own, and by the time I was ten, he didn’t even live in the same state as me anymore.
He’s spending more time with those kids now than he ever did with me.
Still, the prospect of them coming out to see me play makes me feel like a kid again, eager to impress my parents, desperate for them to see me succeed.
“Okay,” I say.
“Anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.
I think about Hugh and Alyssa analyzing my attitude the way they’d analyze a play. How Cauler said I’m taking up space and money and exposure I don’t need. How the goddamn Hockey News treated my sisters like setbacks with me as the destination.
“No,” I say.
“Okay, bud, well, call me if you need to, alright? Good luck this weekend. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
My legs take me outside, carry me to the dock, sit me at the edge, hang my feet over the water. I drop my face in my hands and breathe.