My dad turns up the Christmas carols my mom has playing.
“You youngsters don’t know this, but a man who can’t speak English is a big appeal,” Granny Murray says matter-of-factly. “The less they talk, the better.”
“Did everyone place their bets?” Dakota’s brother announces to glares from his siblings. “Just small ones.”
“Yeah, I bet against the Rhode Islanders.” My cousin Bobby snickers.
“If Ellie wins, you can make, like, thirty times your money back.” Another cousin has dollar signs in his eyes.
“Please don’t bet money on me,” I groan.
“You need to trust in yourself and your team.”
“Is Cookie gonna play?” Uncle Teddy asks excitedly, hovering over me. “If he plays, I could win, like, five grand on this bet.”
“I, uh… he’s having some… well, hockey is eighty percent mental, after all.”
“Dammit, you need to make him play,” my uncles demand.
“Here are the therapy toys back,” another second cousin announces, coming into the house with three of her children traipsing behind her. “Marco ate one of the slime balls. I told him I have four boys, so he’s a spare, and if he doesn’t make it through the night, them’s the breaks.”
“Thanks.” I look down at the dirty toys.
“I’ll sanitize these,” Gracie offers, taking the box.
“Therapy toys? You need to threaten that boy.” My dad’s third cousin waves a bottle of beer around. “You’re going to lose if Cookie doesn’t play.”
I sigh. “I know. I am trying. What am I supposed to do? They’re a mess. Violet, stop filming!”
“What? I can sell this shit to Sportsnet.”
I look helplessly to my dad, the only person in the family since my two brothers who’s played regularly in the NHL semirecently.
“Any tips?” Nate’s brother finally prods.
“I don’t know. Quit.” Dad shrugs.
“Boo!” His sisters throw things at him.
“I can’t. I need the money. I’m trying to save up for a house.”
“You want to move out?” My mom sobs. “My baby!”
“Move where?” my sister demands.
“Toronto, I don’t know.”
“Ooh, is one of your players getting drafted?”
“You said you weren’t going to sleep with them,” Nate cries.
His sisters jump him. “Her sex life isn’t your business. Gross, Nate.”
“You need to get in touch with your inner superwoman. You got this. I believe in you, and I’ve put my money where my mouth is. I have fifty thousand on you,” Granny Murray declares. “Put up the good silver as collateral.”
“She’s never leaving,” Nate murmurs to his brother.
“She will outlive us all and inherit your house.” His brother ruffles his hair.
