Page 4 of The Has-Been

That was the dream.

But now…

If I never saw another hockey stick in my life, then it’d be too soon.

My heart beats, and I swear it echoes, as if invisible hands have reached inside me and scoped out all I was, all I am. Now I’m just an empty shell, a vessel with a brain but no feelings, no real emotion.

I force my eyes away, refusing to look at the rink growing smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror.

Eventually, I wave my badge and the large gates of my community open.

Then, I’m pulling into the drive, stepping out of my car.

The familiar smell of pine trees and crisp water torments my nose.

A scent on the wind carries the smell of Michigan’s Lake Superior, just a short drive away. While the trees and landscape might look different than when I left, the two-level condo before me remains unchanged. The exterior is a sleek array of glass and steel, with floor-to-ceiling windows sparkling in the sun. The wraparound balcony—boasting a fire pit, outdoor seating, and a small hot tub—has been given a fresh coat of dark paint since the end of spring semester, but other than that, it feels mostly the same.

I exhale sharply, knowing I need to pull myself together, and quickly, before my three roommates—who also happen to be my cousins—pull into the drive.

I’m not entirely unhappy to see the place that has become a home for the past four years.

After all, it’s my last year at Delleth.

Part of it is joyful. Bittersweet. It’s like I’ve blinked, and a considerable portion of my life has flashed before me. But I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that this campus holds memories I both want to keep and run away from.

It’s a constant battle of emotions.

But I made a promise that regardless of what I’m feeling, I would make the most of my senior year. That I wouldn’t mope around and stay in as I did last year. It’s my final chance to see my cousins every day. My last opportunity to enjoy life before the real world starts, and I find a job working as an athletic trainer.

And now, with the end so near, I wish I hadn’t taken last year for granted.

You were grieving, I think, trying to give myself some grace as an uncomfortable feeling twists my insides.

Thankfully, not even I can fight the happiness I feel when I hear the cut of engines from behind me.

My younger cousins climb out of their cars, each running toward me.

First, of course, is June Vaughn. I have to cover my mouth, knowing if she sees me giggling at her absurd entrance, she’ll get mad. But you’d think we had a crew filming this, by the way she dramatically flips her long chestnut hair over her shoulder. She closes the door of her brand new SUV, carefully, because she’d never want to break a nail. My eyes narrow in; she must have finally convinced her dad she needed that new car.

But, you know, God forbid she be seen in anything from last year. That’d be totally out-of-date. And that mentality isn’t just applied to vehicles; it’s extended to clothes, bags, vacations, and boys.

If June Vaughn wants it, she gets it.

She’s a junior this year, along with our mutual cousin, Reese.

Reese Vaughn is the golden good girl. Not just because of her shimmering locks or her breathtaking beauty. She’s the full package. Not one flaw about her. She’s smart, athletic, downright stubborn when she wants to be, quick-witted with jokes, occasionally brazen, an English major, and someone who spends their free time studying at the library. Reese doesn’t even party. Not anymore.

Though, considering what happened, I suppose I can’t blame her.

Where June is all fashion and flash, Reese wears the same worn-down sneakers and oversized sweaters almost every day. Today, though, she’s sporting an oversized Detroit Hockey crewneck. As I said, my family bleeds red.

We pull each other in a tight hug, a tangle of perfume and long hair.

But I’d never complain.

Then, as if on cue, I hear the last of us moan, “Uh, you guys always forget about me!”

And that would be Rory Vaughn, the sassy and bright younger sister of Reese. She’s a sophomore this year, two years younger than me, and only a year younger than Reese and June.