Page 35 of The Game Changer

“Of course. Can I get you something to drink, first?” I offer. “Then we can go sit out on the balcony and enjoy the sunset.”

“I’m good with some ice water, thanks.” I grab a large cup and fill it with ice and water from the fridge. I fill a wine glass half full for myself, then carry both out to the balcony where I find Cindi already relaxing.

“Here you go,” I tell her, handing over the cup.

“Thank you,” she replies.

I take a seat, our chairs are not directly facing one another, but also not side by side. “So, how is he really?” she asks, not beating around the bush.

“He has his good days and bad. I was really worried about him last week with the start of the season. The day of the home opener he was having a hard time before we got to the arena, but once there it was almost like a switch was flipped. We walked through the doors and he immediately started talking to employees that he knew. He talked for a while with the guy who owned the team or something like that. I think his daughter is the owner now?” I tell her, not really remembering all the details.

“How was he at the game?” she asks.

“Completely at home. He has a gift for breaking the plays down from above. He gave me so much information as things were playing out in front of us. I could see someone like that being a really big asset to a team, but he didn’t seem to agree with my assessment.”

“I wish he’d planned ahead a little more on what he was going to do after he retired from playing. I know that this injury has caused that to happen a few years early, but it isn’t like he could have played until his true retirement age. He had maybe five to six years left in him, at best. Thirty-five is already kind of on the older side for professional players.”

“It is a bummer he wasn’t thinking ahead, but he’ll figure it out,” I tell her.

“Oh, I know he will. I just worry that with nothing to keep him busy he will get into a rut and have a hard time getting out of it. John’s been through a lot in his life. I don’t know how much he’s shared with you, but our childhood wasn’t the easiest and I think that he carries a lot of that burden with him still.”

“He’s shared a few things here and there, but I’ve tried to not push him to talk about things he isn’t comfortable sharing yet. I figure he’ll tell me when he’s ready, if he’s ever ready.”

“It isn’t all my story to tell, so I’m not going to, just know that my brother cares for you greatly. I’ve never seen him like he is with you with anyone else, ever, and we’re best friends. We tell each other just about everything.”

“I love the bond the two of you have. I think that it’s great. Being an only child, I don’t know what it’s like to have that sibling relationship. Julia, my best friend, is the closest I’ve got and while we might not be blood relatives, we’ve been connected at the hip since we met as kids.”

“Have you lived in the area all your life then?” she asks.

“I have, my parents still live in the house they brought me home to from the hospital.”

“That’s amazing. You don’t hear of that happening all that often these days,” Cindi says.

“I know. But it was their forever home and it still suits them perfectly fine. My dad is a pharmacist and my mom was a housewife most of my youth. She’d work the occasional odd office job part-time when I was at school, filling in when people went on vacations and such for a couple of family friends’ small businesses. She now helps coordinate the volunteers at one of the nursing homes in the area.”

“Sounds like you’ve got great parents.”

“They are pretty great,” I agree. “John’s talked a little bit about your parents. I know that your dad was in and out of your lives until he was seven or so. I also get the feeling that he’s almost as close to your mom as he is you,” I state.

“Yeah. Our sperm donor, as I like to call him.” She pauses long enough to take a drink of her water. She sets it down on a little table next to her chair, then cradles her small baby bump with her hands. “He wasn’t a good dad. The drugs and alcohol were a big problem. He’d come around for a few weeks, maybe months, at a time. Promise Mom the world one day and then drain what little money she’d worked her ass off to save and disappear again for weeks or months at a time, leaving us with nothing. We spent many weeks of our childhood in and out of shelters.”

I knew women’s shelters had some kind of importance to John’s life, I just didn’t realize how important they were and now I know why he was so agreeable to donating when we’ve gone to fundraisers for them. “I knew about your dad’s behaviors, but John hadn’t ever told me about the shelters. It all makes sense now. Last year, he donated to a charity event I was helping with once he heard that it was for a local shelter, and just a couple weeks ago he was my date to another event. For that one, he even agreed to be one of the bachelors that were up for auction—well, as long as I agreed to be the winning bid,” I tell her, laughing at the memory of yelling that huge bid out. “When I reminded him that I couldn’t afford what these bids tend to get up to, he told me he’d cover it.”

“Sounds like something my brother would do,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips. “He’s really private about our childhood, and I’ve probably already said too much, but I trust that you can keep what I said confidential.”

“Oh, absolutely,” I assure her.

“I know when he got his first professional contract, he donated probably half of it to the shelters in our hometown that Mom would bounce between.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” I let her words sink in. “How did he get involved in hockey if things at home were so turbulent, especially with hockey being so expensive?” I ask.

“There was a free program that started with the basics. I think they targeted our area because of the income levels that tended to reside where we lived. He impressed the coaches so much that they talked to my mom and asked if they could provide scholarships for his fees and equipment if she’d sign him up to play. She agreed and the rest is history. He’s been playing since he was five.”

“That’s incredible.”

“It really is, and one of those kismet kind of things. Had we not been at the rec center one summer day when they brought in this organization, he’d probably have never had the chance to even try out hockey.”

“Funny how things like that work in our lives.”

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