“I tried something similar with Jasmine, but the problem is Mom is more involved in my life than she is in yours. You moved away. You quit hockey. I still playing for the Renegades. Mom and Dad have season tickets. They're at every home game. The boundary between my life and theirs barely exists.”
“Then you need to build one. You started at dinner when you stood up for Jasmine. That was the first brick. Saturday is the second. Keep building.”
“Thanks, I’ll try.”
“Goodnight, bro.”
“Goodnight, and thanks.”
“Always.”
I think about what he said. Mom gave up everything for hockey, and she can't accept that the women her sons choose aren't willing to do the same. It doesn't excuse what she's done, but it explains it.
I call Lorraine next. My body is tight with nerves, but it has to be done.
She picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Bennett, it's Logan Shaw.”
A pause. “Well. This is unexpected.”
“I know. I'm sorry to call out of the blue, but I have something I want to ask you.”
There’s silence for a moment. “I'm listening.”
“I'm organizing a lunch next Saturday at Romano's in Long Island. I'd like you to be there.”
“Who else is coming?”
“Jasmine, my parents, my brother Dom, and his fiancée Sarah.”
The silence on the line is long. I can picture Lorraine processing what I just asked. “You want me to sit at a table with your mother after what she did to Jasmine?” she says.
“I know it's a lot to ask.”
“That woman told my daughter she wasn't good enough for you, and now you want me to break bread with her.”
“I love your daughter, and I'm not losing her again. I know we all have a terrible past, but the only way forward is to put everyone in the same room and start over.”
Lorraine is quiet again. I grip my phone and wait.
“You've got nerve, Logan,” she says.
I let out a weak laugh, hoping that means she’s coming around to the idea. “I’ve been told that.”
“Fine. I'll be there. But if that woman says one word about my daughter not being good enough, I'm going to say things that will make everyone at that table very uncomfortable.”
“Understood.”
“Saturday. Romano's. What time?”
“Noon.”
“I'll be there,” she says and hangs up.
I exhale. One down.
The hardest call is next. My mother.
