Page 4 of Off the Post

He was the one who encouraged me to enter the NHL draft after my first year in the Deutsche Eishockey Liga. In the end, had it not been for my brother, I wouldn’t be playing professional hockey in Canada now.

I should have been on that mountain four years ago. Had I been on that climbing trip with my brother, I may have been able to save him. Instead, Anna was left a widow with two young children to care for on her own in Austria.

“Anna,” I say, this time with more gravitas as I consider my words carefully. I strum my thumb over the smooth wood of my kitchen table, the very same one she helped me pick out when I moved to Vancouver. “You know I will always take care of you. You and the kids are my family and mean everything to me. I do it for you and the kids as much as I do it for my brother.”

A long pause follows, and a deep sigh comes from the other end of the line.

“Soren, you know I appreciate all you’ve done for our family after Günther passed. You have been a great source of help.” I can hear the hesitation in Anna’s voice, and anger rises in my throat in anticipation of what she’s about to say. “But you do not have to feel so obligated to⁠—”

“I don’t,” I interject, my tone adamant to the point of insolent.

Anna chuckles. “You do. And we love you for it. But we don’t expect to be your lifelong responsibility.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” I all but shout, my frustration ratcheting higher with every minute of this conversation. She doesn’t understand the depths of my guilt. “Günther would want me to take care of you. We are family.”

I remember the day Günther and Anna were married. The wedding was held on a glorious sunny day in the middle of June in a green meadow awash with wildflowers, the base of the mountain slope behind them. As they said their “I dos” and promised each other forever and ‘til death did they part, I stood next to my brother, transfixed on his devotion for Anna. I had never seen my big brother so dressed up, but the new hairstyle and his fancy black tux paled against the joy-filled smile.

He took those vows seriously, asking me before the ceremony—man to man, brother to brother—to always be there for Anna should anything ever happen to him.

It tore me to shreds that I couldn’t be with my brother the day he died. Due to my contract’s stipulations, I was to refrain from potentially dangerous activities, like mountain climbing, skiing, or any other risky sports. I wasn’t even in Austria at the time since I had to be in Boston for a training camp. But I’m for damn sure going to fulfill my promise to my brother and be there for his family. I will honor my commitment to my late brother with everything I am and everything I have.

“Yes, Soren, we are family, and that will always remain true. But we also must find a way to move on with our lives. I know you carry so much guilt in your heart. You must let that go. It won’t bring him back.”

There’s something in her tone, an underlying message that I can’t quite figure out. Like a hint of goodbye. A dismissal of the past or maybe a parting for the future.

A panic rips through me at the thought that she would even consider a life without me in it. Is that what she’s doing? Is she trying to push me away?

“Are you seeing someone, Anna?”

“No, not really. It’s not like that.”

“What do you mean, not really?” I sputter in a reproachful tone. “Then tell me, what is it like, Anna? Is there someone new in your life?”

I can hear how I must sound to my sister-in-law, like a jilted lover or a dumped boyfriend who can’t come to terms with the breakup. My love for Anna has never been more than familial. She’s my brother’s wife, yet we’ve gone through a tragedy together that will bond us forever. It doesn’t feel right to think that she’s moved on when I haven’t.

It’s been four years, my conscience whispers.

Yeah. Four fucking years, and it still hurts that he’s gone.

“Listen, let’s not talk about this now.” Her words are quiet, but the tone is insistent. “The kids are just home from school, and I need to get them ready for their practices. I will book the tickets, and we will come see you in June, and we can talk about it all then, ja?”

I know she’s trying to preserve my feelings, so I’ll let it go. But I feel the change, the slight shift in the earth under my feet. My balance feels off and my skin’s entirely too tight. The discomfort is palpable.

Anna is the only person I can talk to about Günther. If she moves on and no longer wants to reminisce about him, who will I have?

No one else will understand.

Clara and Heinrich both join in before we end the call to say a quick hello, then Anna says she’ll email me with the confirmation of their trip.

At least I’ll see them soon and we can discuss what the future holds and what our lives will look like in person. That gives me a small bit of hope. My only goal is to safeguard and protect my brother’s memory and be there for his family.

After disconnecting—with much reluctance on my end—I check my schedule to find out what tasks lay ahead of me for the next month. I’ve always been a bit obsessive about planning and scheduling. I like order and consistency in my life, just as I do in the net. If I can do everything in my power to keep myself in check, the chaos of the game and life won’t get to me.

Since we got booted out of the playoffs last week after our loss to the Chicago Buoys, our season is officially done. It was a tough game. My partner goalie, Deiter Volmer, a fellow German player, was starting since I was injured. He played like fire and made some fantastic saves, but those Buoy boys eked out one more goal than us.

Putting that memory aside, I look forward to next week’s scheduled golf weekend with the boys at Ballas’s country club while a few of my teammates are still in town. Oliver Thornquist, Dane Axelrod, Brett Canfield, Rossy, and the two rookies, Shaw Benning, and Case Lyons are all scheduled to play, making us an even two groups of four.

Golf isn’t my favorite sport—I’d much rather play tennis if I had a choice—but it’s fun to hang out and drink some beers in the sunshine with my friends. We don’t get that opportunity much during the season. A sports journalist once asked me in an interview why hockey players love to play so much golf. My reply was my standard annoyed response—because what a stupid question.