Page 77 of Trust Me

“Coach Mazzo.” Isaiah coughs, clearing his throat as he approaches me while I store equipment away.

“Mind giving me a hand, Thomas?” I ask because when Ned is here, cleanup goes a lot faster.

“Sure.” He jumps right in, helping me cart off various things to the storage room without missing a beat. He’s a hard-working athlete, having listened to my advice about improving his stamina. He’s gotten faster on the ice, which has resulted in more confidence for him and upping his overall abilities.

I lock the room once it’s all put away and turn to him. “Thanks for helping, Thomas, appreciate it.”

“No problem, Coach.” He smiles, but it doesn’t last. “Hey, can I talk to you?” His voice shakes.

“Yeah, let’s go to my office.” I do my best to sound calm, but internally, I’m stressing the fuck out. What is he going to say? I’ve never done this side of coaching yet, the interpersonal stuff, and I have no idea if I’ll be any good at it.

Once we’re in my office, I offer him a water, which he takes, and then we both stand there in silence.

“What did you want to talk about?” I prod, noting how his knee is bouncing and that he keeps running a hand over his brown mop. He’s nervous and it’s making me nervous.

“I have to quit the team,” he says, nearly knocking me on my ass.

“What? Why?”

He can’t quit. He’s made so much progress already and he’s easily the best player on our team.

“My mom’s business isn’t doing well, and she can’t afford all the bills. I need to quit the team, drop out of school, and get a job to help her out so my siblings don’t have to go through that. I can’t even attend school without my hockey scholarship.” He’s breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating.

“Hey,” I say as I walk over to him. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes flash to mine, so much worry and uncertainty in them.

“Tell me five things you can see right now.”

“You,” he exhales, eyes searching the room. “The door, your desk, a water bottle, and your computer.”

“Good, now take a few deep breaths,” I instruct him, watching with relief as he begins to calm down.

“What’s your mom’s business?” I ask out of curiosity. He’s not leaving this team nor this school. I’ll make sure of it one way or another.

“She owns and runs a music school. The landlord increased rent, and she refuses to upcharge families to account for it. It doesn’t help that she’s had a lot of kids drop out recently, too,” he explains, looking so damn lost.

“Do you mind taking me there?” I say before I think it through.

“Why?”

“Because I want to meet your mom and get to understand her business. You’re not quitting.”

“But—”

“Thomas, this team needs you and you’d be stupid to waste your potential now after all the years of hard work you’ve put in. I refuse to see that happen. You’re going places, and I’m going to help you get there, okay?”

“Coach.” He looks speechless, his brown eyes glassy.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s go meet Mama Thomas first.”

Tammy Thomas is a bright, warm woman who wants nothing more than to pass on her love of music to the next generation.

We caught the tail end of her class and I could see how much she adores what she does. It was in the gentleness she corrected students with, the love in her eyes as she watched them play and the way she moved around the room to the beat.

After talking with her about her business for an hour, it was clear to me what the issue was. For one, she needed to get out of the area she was in. It wasn’t a great location, and she needed to be more accessible to kids to commute to.

She also needed a social media presence, since she had none at all. I mentioned a grant I knew of that one of my old hockey buddies has for music schools, since his mom was also a music teacher.

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