“Hey kid.” My dad’s voice, the one he uses after losses, the one that means he’s already moved on and wants everyone else to do the same. I hear him come in, hear the door close, hear him sit down on something. The bed. He’s sitting on the bed. “Guess you’re not out with your secret Vancouver family tonight.”
“No sir.”
“Shame. It’s always better to have someone you love to go to after a game, win or lose. You played well tonight.”
“We lost.”
“We lost. You played well. Those are two different things.” Another pause. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you know that? I mean it. Not like some of these other guys.” A short laugh. “I’m glad you’re on this team, son.”
I hear my dad’s hand land on Zach’s bare shoulder. And my heart is hammering so hard I’m sure they can both hear it but there’s something else happening in my body that I don’t want to look at directly. Because my hands are shaking and my pulse is in my ears and some of that is terror, obviously, most of it is terror, butthere’s a thread underneath it that isn’t fear at all and it scares me more than my dad being ten feet away. I shove it down. Not now. Not EVER maybe. I am not going to examine why the danger is doing something to me that danger should not be doing.
“Get some sleep. Wheels up at nine.”
“Yes sir.”
I stand in the dark for another second after he leaves, then push the closet door open.
Zach is standing in the middle of the room exactly where my dad left him. His hand is on the back of his neck and his eyes are fixed on the door and he hasn’t moved and he looks like he’s going to need about six months to recover from the last three minutes.
We stare at each other.
“That was so close,” he says. His voice comes out slightly too high.
“So close,” I agree. “That killed the mood right?” I say.
“Yeah.” He exhales. “Pretty much.”
I start getting dressed and he drops onto the bed and puts his arm over his eyes. I put on my shirt and stretch out next to him, tucking myself against his side, and he lifts his arm and wraps it around me without moving anything else.
“He called you son,” I say.
Zach doesn’t move his arm. “I know.”
I press my face into his shoulder and we lie there in the quiet. I must fall asleep because the next thing I know he’s pushing my hair back from my face.
“Mackie, wake up baby,” His voice is quiet. “It’s almost midnight.”
I sit up. My hair is a disaster and he’s looking at me with that expression he gets when he thinks I can’t see him doing it. The one that makes me want to stay in this bed forever and also makes me want to cry.
I kiss him once before turning tofind my shoes.
At the door I turn back. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“He meant it. All of it.” I hold his gaze. “You know that right?”
He doesn’t say anything. I slip out into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me and make it back to my room with four minutes to spare.
My mom is already in bed with the light off.
“Cutting it close,” she says into the dark.
“Goodnight Mom.”
She laughs softly and rolls over and I lie in the dark staring at the ceiling thinking about how my dad spoke to Zach and how he has never once in his life said anything he didn’t mean.
21
