“No. But he felt like you were pressuring him to have it.”
I gape at my teammate. “Pressuring him?”
It’s an echo of what Ayla said the other day. She felt like I was pressuring her.
“Yeah.” He blows out a breath. “Look, the kid’s young and he’s got a wrist injury and needs to go under the knife. It’s affecting his play. He’s stressed.”
“Well, yeah. I get that.”
“It’s his decision to make, though.” Benny eyes me. “I know you’re trying to help. That’s what you do.”
I’m having another flashback to that conversation.I know you want to fix things for people.
“Maybe just ease up on him a bit,” Benny says. “He has to come to terms with it and decide what he wants to do. Weigh the pros and cons of having the surgery now versus waiting until the season’s over.”
“I’ve already weighed the pros and cons and he should have the surgery now.”
Benny tips his head. “But it’s not your decision.”
“Of course not. But we all know that’s the right decision.”
“Okay, let me be blunt. I’m telling you to back off. Trev feels like you don’t understand what he’s going through. He’s getting pissed off at you. You two have been working great together and I know you’ve been helping him. Why risk that relationship? We all need to support each other, right?”
“Right,” I say slowly. I’m feeling a little pissed myself that I’m getting a lecture from the captain.
“Okay, great.” Benny claps a hand on my shoulder pad. “Thanks, man.”
We walk together down the tunnel and I head into the locker room while he turns to leave the facility. I sit on a bench to take off my skates, but I don’t move for a few minutes.
Those echoes of my conversation with Ayla keep circling in my head.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that conversation. I had to get my head on straight for the game last night, and practice today, but apart from that, I’ve spent a lot of time lying on my bed in my apartment staring at the ceiling and replaying it all.
I know you want to fix things for people.
Yeah. I do.
But I felt judged or criticized.
Did Trev feel like I was judging him?
I drop my head forward, elbows on my knees.
Fuck. Of course he did.
Like Ayla did. And like… Lenny. As Ayla pointed out.
You wanted to look after them and keep them safe, and they probably wanted autonomy and independence.
Of course they did.
Is it a bad thing to want to help people? Why am I like this?
I take off all my gear and hit the showers, now deserted. As I wash away the sweat with soap and water and shampoo, I ponder it more.
Is it about control? I hate it when I can’t control something. Why is that?
I think back to when my dad died. Everything felt out of control. Scary. Taking charge of my mom and my sisters gave me a sense of control when I was terrified. Angry. Confused. Except that didn’t always work out so well.
