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Coach called everyone together and announced we were going to play a game, and the kids cheered with glee. Games were always a disaster at youth practices, but this was a beginner-level group, and Coach Gizzard wanted the kids to have some fun with it and hopefully, get enthusiastic about playing more seriously for a competitive youth hockey team.
Volunteers played on the teams to help guide the kids, and I found myself on offense against Jolie. She was good, smoothly passing the puck to the kids and telling them when to pass and when to shoot.
I’d always thought she was beautiful. Getting to know her a little had changed the way I saw her, though. She was easygoing and secure in who she was. Her smile drew me in and made it hard to look away.
She was more off-limits than ever, but I was more interested than ever. That was a dangerous combination. Nash wasn’t here tonight to remind me not to stare, and that’s exactly what I was doing when Jolie helped a kid shoot a puck right past me and into the net.
When she grinned at me, obviously thinking I’d let him score on purpose, I smiled back.
“Boone!” Coach yelled, snapping me out of my trance. “We need you on the bench.”
Shit. He’d busted me staring at Jolie. That was the last thing I needed.
I went to the bench, where two kids needed help lacing their skates and another needed help going to the bathroom.
“I don’t know how to wipe,” the kid said once he was in the stall.
Taking kids to the bathroom was enough; I drew the line at wiping asses.
“Want me to go get your mom?” I asked.
“It’s the boys’ room. She can’t come in here.”
“We’ll make an exception,” I said. “I’ll be right back. What’s your name?”
“Camden.”
I went to the stands and asked for Camden’s mom until I found her, and once she was in the bathroom with him, I checked my phone and saw a missed call from Carrie. There was also a text.
Carrie: I’m free for the next 40 minutes if you want to call.
I checkedmy watch and saw that I still had fifteen minutes left, so I pushed the call back button immediately. Since Andy’s diagnosis, I’d checked in with her like this several times to find out how things were really going.
“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you guys?”
“We—hang on, I’m putting stuff on the conveyor belt at the grocery store…okay, we’re okay. You know, some days are better than others, but overall, we’re okay.”
“Do you need to call me back?”
“No, I just have a handful of things. I can talk to you while I check out.”
“Is Andy still getting sick from the chemo?”
“Reliably. It weakens him a lot and he feels bad about spending so much time in bed, even though I keep telling him that he needs to rest.”
I closed my eyes, the image of my strong brother brought to his knees turning my stomach.
“Do the doctors have any idea if the treatment is working?” I asked.
“Not yet. He’ll get scans after this round of treatment.” Her voice got faint as she covered the phone. “Thanks so much. Have a good night.”
“Is the wait hard as hell for you?” I asked her.
“It’s really hard, yeah. But I go to counseling every week, and my counselor tells me to take it one day at a time. That’s all I can do. So I try to keep busy. You can’t lie awake worrying when you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.”
I sat down on a wood bench. “I’m doing what I can to get there. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me send you some money.”
