“Sounds like more driving,” he said with a wry smile. “And what about sports?”
“We quit sports for one year, and they play baseball in the backyard and basketball in the driveway. Like we did.”
He looked into the distance. “Matthew is an exceptional athlete ...” His voice trailed off.
She finished the sentence for him. “But not exceptional enough.”
“Like father, like son,” he said with a faint trace of bitterness. “Even without the injury, I wouldn’t have made the jump from Division I college hockey to the NHL.”
She looked at him in surprise. He’d hinted at this before but never said it out loud.
“I wanted the boys to do what I wasn’t able to do. But deep down I know it’s not going to happen for them either.”
“When did you realize this?” she asked softly.
“When Matt started playing on this travel team. He’s every bit as good as the best kid on that team. But to go pro, he’d need to bebetterthan the best kid. Way better. And he’s not. He’s very good. And that’s not good enough.”
She wrapped her arms around him. Maybe this was how the Mensa parents of academically gifted kids felt when they realized their child did not have the SAT scores to get into Princeton.
“But he’s still so good that I think he can afford to take a year off in seventh grade and play in high school, and that’s all I want for him, to have the camaraderie of a team when he gets older. Plus his shoulder needs to heal, and that will never happen if he keeps pitching.”
“I agree,” she said. “I was never going to play in the WNBA, but I loved the Lady Spartans.”
Her husband smiled. “And you led them to a state championship.”
“I’m so old that I come from an era when girls’ sports teams had the wordladyadded to the name.”
He removed his work gloves and took her hand. “I’d rather be old with you than young with someone else.”
“I appreciate that.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “And I’d rather be married to you than Wayne Gretzky.”
“You’d have walk-in closets if you were married to Wayne Gretzky.”
“I’d rather have you.”
He kissed her temple. “Thank you.”
“And now we need to talk about Luke.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“Luke is the one who needs this most,” she said.
“Do you think ...” He paused. “Do you think he got his dyslexia from me?”
She lifted her head and turned to face him. “Honey, it’s dyslexia, notCovid.”
“I know, but I’ve been reading about it, and some researchers think there’s a genetic component. Now I’m starting to wonder if I have dyslexia. In school I always felt like I had to work twice as hard to get half as much as my siblings.”
Her husband’s grades were the stuff of family legend. Mr. D Minus, his mother had called him.
“Which is why sports were so important?” Kiersten asked.
“Exactly.” He stood and extended his hand, pulling her up from the lawn chair. “But on the ice I could work half as hard for twice as much.”
She picked up her box cutter. “The poor kidisworking hard. And that’s why his grades are so frustrating ... and heartbreaking.”
“I see how he’s struggling ... I see him feeling like he’s stupid.” Garrett reached for another box. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through. If there’s a way to help him catch up ... help him learn without hating every minute of learning. If we can give him that, then I think we should do it.”
