Page 21 of A Scoring Chance
“Motherfucker,” I growl, banging my head against the wall repeatedly, needing the pain. The punishment for everything. For hurting Beauty, for worrying Alise, for killing Dad. All of it. I wish I could make it better, to take away the pain from all of them, but I can’t, and I loathe it.
“Shut it away. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Shut it away. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Shut it away. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” My old mantra falls from my lips barely above a whisper. Like a prayer, begging for the numbness to take over again.
“Cooper,” Momma whispers as she opens the shower door, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “My sweet boy.”
“I’m sorry,” I croak, immediately turning into that fifteen-year-old boy who was terrified of letting his mother down. “I just need a few minutes, and I’ll be out.”
“No. Cooper, you need to tell me what happened at practice today. Why did you run away like that?”
“What?” I ask, trying to make sense of what she is saying. Run away? I didn’t run away. I was protecting everyone from me. From the uncontrollable emotions swirling inside me the minute Coach James mentioned my dad. “I didn’t.”
“You did.” Her eyes are hard as steel. The only sign of her emotions are the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Alise called. You better text her the minute we’re done talking or she’ll have both our heads.”
I chuckle softly. Leave it to Alise to always figure out a way to be there for her friends. “Did she tell you if Ramona was all right?”
Alise was vague about what was going on with Beauty, but I don’t doubt it was serious. Judging by the way she flew outof the locker room at the thought of leaving her alone in the stands, it was probably something she had to help her deal with regularly. Definitely not something she could talk her through with a simple phone call. Alise said something about people disappearing without saying goodbye, but what could have happened to make her react badly to something so simple as goodbye? Not like I’m one to talk. Just the mention of my dad’s name can send me into a spiral, evident from what happened today.
“Ramona?” Momma wiggles her eyebrows for effect. “Who’s Ramona?”
“No one.”
That isn’t specifically a lie. She isn’t anything to me at the moment. Ramona is Alise’s best friend and the mother of one of my hockey players. She’s someone I know nothing about besides how beautiful she is and who was the only person in a rink full of people who noticed something wasn’t right with me. See? Not completely a lie, but Momma doesn’t need all of that information.
A chill runs through me as the water cools, reminding me of my situation. I’m standing in the shower, and the glass door that was originally keeping the warm air inside is flung open. Momma is standing right there, her eyes full of concern.
“Umm, Momma. Do you think I could finish my shower and get dressed before we have this conversation?”
Momma’s cheeks pink slightly as she waves away my concern. “Don’t be embarrassed. I used to wipe your ass. This is nothing I haven’t seen before.”
There’s no way that I’m going to stand here and continue to have any type of conversation with my mother while naked. I don’t want to have this conversation at all, with anyone. Ever. I spent years of my life talking to therapist after therapist, but I was still angry. It would fester inside me until I could get onthe ice and channel it somewhere. Releasing it all into the first opponent that pissed me off. I was spending more time in the penalty box than I was playing. If it wasn’t for Coach James helping me channel all of that rage, I don’t know where I’d be.
“Momma. I’d like to think some things have changed.”
Really, brain? Really? That’s the first thing you could think to say to your mother? It must have worked, because she takes a step back, pushing the door shut behind her.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll leave, but if your adorable behind isn’t parked on the couch in twenty minutes, I’m coming back in here after you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I chuckle as she strides out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. Even as a grown-ass man, I don’t dare cross Momma. That woman is a force to be reckoned with, and I never want to be on the wrong side of her wrath.
I don’t waste any more time and quickly soap up and hop out of the shower. I didn’t think to grab clothes before climbing into the shower, so I wrap a towel around my waist before heading into my childhood bedroom.
Nothing has changed much since I moved out. A large queen-sized bed is pushed up against the wall, bedding in shades of gray covering the bed, with more pillows than I’d ever need artfully placed at the top. Hanging shelves mounted to the wall are full of books and my hockey trophies collected over all the years of playing. The shelves flank my high school jersey, number twenty-seven, framed and on display directly over my bed. I didn’t do that, Momma did. After the club retired my hockey number, she refused to leave it just lying around, claiming it was going to be a collector's item someday.
“Cooper.” The sound of Momma’s voice filters through the open door.
“Coming.” I quickly grab a pair of sweats, deciding to forgo boxers, and pull them on. The joys of living only an hour away, you never have to pack a bag when you come home for a visit.
“Hurry up, Cooper. I’m waiting,” she yells again, and I swear under my breath as I pull out drawers, searching for a shirt. She is going to start counting if I don’t get out there soon. Nothing good ever comes from making her start counting. Nothing embarrassing about a thirty-year-old man still being afraid of his mother’s counting.
“Two minutes. Max!” I shout, pulling a shirt over my head as I rush down the hall to the living room.
“Took you long enough,” Momma chortles as she pats the seat next to her on the couch.
I immediately take a seat, leaning over to press my lips to her cheek, trying to sweeten her up. “Sorry I didn’t say hello when I came into the house.”
“You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what the hell happened at practice today.”
I take a deep breath in, trying to figure out how to explain the overwhelming shame and anger I felt the minute Coach mentioned Dad, and then when Alise started panicking about leaving Ramona alone, it intensified tenfold.
