Page 54 of The Casanova Complex

Dad’s laugh booms through the speaker. “Let me clarify, I’m not going to chase you down. Clearly, your mother is a different story.”

We spend the next few minutes talking about my classes, and the conversation veers to where it always does. What I’m thinking for next year. What’s going to happen after graduation.

It’s hard to believe I’ll be completely done with school after this, but hopefully, the next step is signing with a team.

“Sorry about missing your game last week. You know how hard it is for us to get there with work and trying to find flights for your mom and I. I wish New Hampshire and Louisiana were a hell of a lot closer, son.”

I clear my throat when he trails off. “Yeah, I know, Dad. No big deal.” The lie tumbles easily past my lips, the same one as always.

I hate that I’m lying to him.

Because it is a big fucking deal to me that my parents never show up to games. That they’re no longer invested in me the way they once were, not taking my career in hockey seriously. No, that they don’t take me seriously.

No one ever does.

Especially not my parents when it comes to hockey. Just because I’m a go-with-the-flow guy who likes to joke and have a good time doesn’t mean that I’m not serious about my future. There’s always something happening with work, their schedules being tight, not being able to take time off.

And I get it, I really do.

He’s a children’s oncologist, for fuck’s sake. He spends the majority of his life in the hospital working shifts taking care of sick kids.

I can’t be mad at him for not being able to jump at the drop of the hat.

I just wish that when I talked about the most important thing in my life… that they’d listen. Both of them.

Even if they don’t agree, I just want them to believe that I can do it. Believe in me.

“Well, I’ll let you go, son. I won’t keep you. Just missed you. Come home soon?”

“Yeah, Pops, I will. As soon as I can. My schedule’s kind of crazy right now.”

There’s a brief pause, and I can practically see him sitting in his old brown recliner in the den that he refuses to part with, even though Ma has threatened him a thousand times, thumbing through the newspaper, wearing those magnified reading glasses that make his eyes look huge. Mom’s probably somewhere nearby, making fun of him for needing to wear them in his old age.

I miss them both, and I miss home. I just wish things could be different.

“Love you, kid,” he says, and just like I guessed, I can hear the sound of paper rustling faintly through the phone.

“Love you too, Pops.”

“Love you, honey!” I hear Ma call in the background, and I laugh.

“Love you too.”

I’m about to press the End button when Dad calls my name, halting me.

“Yeah?”

“I forgot to tell you, but I spoke with Ned at the investment firm, and he said that once you graduate, he’s got a spot for you at the office. He said he’s ready when you are, and he’d love to have you on the team.”

There it is.

It never fails.

It’s always the same conversation with the same outcome.

“Dad…” I breathe, reaching up to rub the ache that’s forming behind my eyes.

“I know, I know,” he says quickly. “Look, I know you’re trying to play hockey after graduation, Bennett. I just… I want you to keep your options open. You need to have something to fall back on in case it doesn’t pan out the way you hoped it would. Son, you know the chances of becoming a professional hockey player is one percent. You know the odds. You know the level of work it requires to step over the threshold to make this a career, the amount of hard work and commitment. The draft is done. Is it… Is it not time to take a hard look at what comes next since that might not be hockey?”