Page 40 of On the Edge

“He loves me,” Lawson says conspiratorially to Max and me.

Coach Mackenzie mumbles, “I do. I really, really do,” under his breath in a resigned sort of way, walking away to the kitchen. Hefting a giggling Caleb under his arm, Lawson drops us a wink and follows him.

“I love them,” Max says, the moment they leave the room.

“Yes,” I agree. “You are good with kids, Max. Do you think someday you will have any?”

A slight flush colors his cheeks as he nods. “Yeah. I’d like kids, one day. I think…I think Luke would be a really good dad.”

“He would, and so would you.” He blushes a little deeper, but looks pleased.

I glance down at my half-colored owl, thinking about frowning faces and first kisses. Snapping a photo of it with my phone, I send it to Atlas without any context. Again, he replies with alacrity.

Atlas

what the fuck is that

Henri

It is a grumpy owl that looks a little like you.

Atlas

jesus fucking christ did you color that

Henri

Yes! I will bring it to class for you.

Atlas

I don’t want it

Henri

To Atlas, Love Henri

Atlas

please don’t

Laughing softly, I tuck my phone away in my pocket and carefully finish coloring the owl. When it’s time to leave, I fold it up and tuck it away safely to give to Atlas on Tuesday. Waiting until we’re settled in my car and Max is bucked insafely, I maneuver us out of Coach’s driveway and carefully bring up the subject that’s been sitting at the forefront of my mind all evening.

“Why do you think Coach Mackenzie might hurt himself if the house isn’t neat?” I ask Max, hoping this doesn’t come across as nosy. I don’t want to gossip about my coach, but I am wondering now if there might be something wrong. If there’s something wrong, there might be something I can do to help.

“Oh,” Max says carefully, pausing and glancing over at me. “Well, I think it’s because he is…he can’t see very well.”

“I thought that was it!” I tap the steering wheel, feeling vindicated. “I am always thinking Coach Mackenzie needs glasses, when he squints at me as though he cannot see me.”

“You know how Coach’s career ended, right? The accident? Well—and so, I don’t know all the details—but he told me he’s been legally blind since then. He can see, but he can’t seewell. He can’t drive or anything, because of it.”

For the second time today, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed in someone’s fist. For nearly four years I’ve played hockey for SCU under Coach Mackenzie, and not once in that time have I had a conversation with him about his own career. I’ve never thought of myself as an incredibly selfish person before, but obviously, I am.

“Oh my.” I breathe out hard. “I am feeling terrible about this.”

“I only know because I had a panic attack at his house last year and he told me, Vas. He hasn’t told the team, because I don’t think he wants anyone to know. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t say anything about it. Jesus, I probably shouldn’t have even told you—I didn’t even think.”

“I will not tell,” I promise quickly. “You can trust me.”

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