Alex
Page 86
It’s surreal how his words have a sting of truth, even though his methods were for the most part completely barbaric.
Before I can respond, my dad continues. “Look…I’m sure that girl…Sutton is perfectly nice. But you’re twenty-six. You have, at most, another four to five years of top-level play in that body before you’ll start to get overtaken by the next hot young player out there. That’s not a long time, and you shouldn’t waste it on things that don’t lead toward an intense focus on the game. It’s professional suicide.”
His words penetrate deep, and for once, I can say that my dad is absolutely one hundred percent correct in his evaluation of the situation. Hockey careers are fleeting, particularly because it’s such a violent sport. I have only a few more years to stockpile my way to an early retirement.
While every cell in my body wants to buck against what he’s saying, I can’t say the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. That perhaps my focus is too fractured, between my newfound love for the game, a new girlfriend who is in love with me but whom I’ve yet to truly figure out my feelings for, and my alcoholic father, who could die.
Maybe I need to lighten the burden. Cut something out.
Cutting the game out wasn’t possible, because after all, that is the one thing I can pretty much say is my best chance at success.
And I can’t cut out my father. Not now…not after he’s trying to get sober and trying to make amends.
So, that leaves Sutton, and just giving credence to this idea makes my gut churn with bitter acid. But unfortunately, she’s the newest thing in my life. She’s the great unknown and by far the biggest risk.
She makes me feel too much sometimes. It’s a kaleidoscope of feeling with patterns that play out across my heart, some round and soothing yet others sharp and angled, causing a small bite of pain.
Some would say feeling is good. Others, like my dad—and clearly this resonates with my way of thinking—might say it could be distracting. Perhaps it’s better to stay ice-cold, like the surface upon which I play my game.
This is something I need to think about.
This is something I need to take action on.
Chapter 28
Sutton
It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since I last saw Alex.
It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since he broke my heart.
And while my heart is on the mend, it still hurts badly on most days and just twinges annoyingly on the others. My anger has at least subsided, and while I don’t accept his reasoning for breaking things off, I do understand it. Just because I understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t painful.
Because God…it’s so painful.
I wish I didn’t understand why he did it, because it would be easier to mire myself in hate and bitterness, which I’m sure would stop the pain that emanates from the center of my chest. But I do understand him, in ways that most others never would.
Just fifteen days and some change ago, my day had started off wonderfully.
I had an amazing counseling session with Mara. She looked healthy, although not quite happy. However, she had told me the words that I had longed to hear, that was she was staying strong to fight her desire to use meth again. More important, her parents had agreed to come in and talk to me the next week. I didn’t have high hopes they’d make it in, because I knew how easy it was to make those promises yet so very hard to keep them. Still, I was feeling more confident that Mara was taking the right steps so she didn’t stray down the same destructive path as her parents.
My day got even better from there.
Cosmo called me.
Which in and of itself isn’t all that strange. He’s called me over the years for a variety of reasons.
But that day?
That day he called from the lobby of Crested Pine, which is an excellent local rehab facility just one county over. He was getting ready to go in, hoping five times was a charm when it came to getting clean. He called me, knowing that there would be no means to communicate for the next thirty days, but he felt it important that I know he was taking the step.
He told me that he was doing this for himself, but more than anything, he hoped that I would be the one who truly benefited from it in the long run.
They were the perfect words and something in the tone of his voice made me think he could do it this time around.
But that is where the sun set and dark clouds rolled in on me. Dramatic, I know, but that’s exactly how it felt.
Alex flew back into town from his game road trip, which followed on the heels of his father showing up at his apartment unexpectedly. I never did get to see Alex on Christmas Eve, but he called to tell me what was going on, and that his dad had left rehab early. He sounded stressed and I did my best to reassure him that there was a chance his dad would be okay. In my mind I knew chances were that he’d relapse, since he had not finished the program, but I didn’t want to worry Alex further.
So I wished him a merry Christmas, told him I loved him, and wished him good luck on his upcoming games. He thanked me quietly for the well wishes, ignoring the words of love I gave him.
I remember giving myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror before he arrived that night, snickering to myself. My eyes were bright and dancing with eagerness to see Alex, and I almost could imagine what a junkie must feel like right before he gets his next hit.
My doorbell rang and I almost squealed in delight, but I didn’t, because I was a mature professional woman. However, that didn’t stop the mile-wide grin that was on my face as I practically ran down the hall and into the living room.
Before I can respond, my dad continues. “Look…I’m sure that girl…Sutton is perfectly nice. But you’re twenty-six. You have, at most, another four to five years of top-level play in that body before you’ll start to get overtaken by the next hot young player out there. That’s not a long time, and you shouldn’t waste it on things that don’t lead toward an intense focus on the game. It’s professional suicide.”
His words penetrate deep, and for once, I can say that my dad is absolutely one hundred percent correct in his evaluation of the situation. Hockey careers are fleeting, particularly because it’s such a violent sport. I have only a few more years to stockpile my way to an early retirement.
While every cell in my body wants to buck against what he’s saying, I can’t say the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. That perhaps my focus is too fractured, between my newfound love for the game, a new girlfriend who is in love with me but whom I’ve yet to truly figure out my feelings for, and my alcoholic father, who could die.
Maybe I need to lighten the burden. Cut something out.
Cutting the game out wasn’t possible, because after all, that is the one thing I can pretty much say is my best chance at success.
And I can’t cut out my father. Not now…not after he’s trying to get sober and trying to make amends.
So, that leaves Sutton, and just giving credence to this idea makes my gut churn with bitter acid. But unfortunately, she’s the newest thing in my life. She’s the great unknown and by far the biggest risk.
She makes me feel too much sometimes. It’s a kaleidoscope of feeling with patterns that play out across my heart, some round and soothing yet others sharp and angled, causing a small bite of pain.
Some would say feeling is good. Others, like my dad—and clearly this resonates with my way of thinking—might say it could be distracting. Perhaps it’s better to stay ice-cold, like the surface upon which I play my game.
This is something I need to think about.
This is something I need to take action on.
Chapter 28
Sutton
It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since I last saw Alex.
It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since he broke my heart.
And while my heart is on the mend, it still hurts badly on most days and just twinges annoyingly on the others. My anger has at least subsided, and while I don’t accept his reasoning for breaking things off, I do understand it. Just because I understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t painful.
Because God…it’s so painful.
I wish I didn’t understand why he did it, because it would be easier to mire myself in hate and bitterness, which I’m sure would stop the pain that emanates from the center of my chest. But I do understand him, in ways that most others never would.
Just fifteen days and some change ago, my day had started off wonderfully.
I had an amazing counseling session with Mara. She looked healthy, although not quite happy. However, she had told me the words that I had longed to hear, that was she was staying strong to fight her desire to use meth again. More important, her parents had agreed to come in and talk to me the next week. I didn’t have high hopes they’d make it in, because I knew how easy it was to make those promises yet so very hard to keep them. Still, I was feeling more confident that Mara was taking the right steps so she didn’t stray down the same destructive path as her parents.
My day got even better from there.
Cosmo called me.
Which in and of itself isn’t all that strange. He’s called me over the years for a variety of reasons.
But that day?
That day he called from the lobby of Crested Pine, which is an excellent local rehab facility just one county over. He was getting ready to go in, hoping five times was a charm when it came to getting clean. He called me, knowing that there would be no means to communicate for the next thirty days, but he felt it important that I know he was taking the step.
He told me that he was doing this for himself, but more than anything, he hoped that I would be the one who truly benefited from it in the long run.
They were the perfect words and something in the tone of his voice made me think he could do it this time around.
But that is where the sun set and dark clouds rolled in on me. Dramatic, I know, but that’s exactly how it felt.
Alex flew back into town from his game road trip, which followed on the heels of his father showing up at his apartment unexpectedly. I never did get to see Alex on Christmas Eve, but he called to tell me what was going on, and that his dad had left rehab early. He sounded stressed and I did my best to reassure him that there was a chance his dad would be okay. In my mind I knew chances were that he’d relapse, since he had not finished the program, but I didn’t want to worry Alex further.
So I wished him a merry Christmas, told him I loved him, and wished him good luck on his upcoming games. He thanked me quietly for the well wishes, ignoring the words of love I gave him.
I remember giving myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror before he arrived that night, snickering to myself. My eyes were bright and dancing with eagerness to see Alex, and I almost could imagine what a junkie must feel like right before he gets his next hit.
My doorbell rang and I almost squealed in delight, but I didn’t, because I was a mature professional woman. However, that didn’t stop the mile-wide grin that was on my face as I practically ran down the hall and into the living room.
