Page 23 of Someone to Have
Jen grew up believing in true love, even though we didn't see anything close to that at home. And she’s about as bad at picking guys as our mother was.
It killed me when she opened the door a few weeks ago and I realized how low my sister had been brought by life and her shitty choices. She was a shell of the sweet, sassy girl I love.
I brush aside the constant refrain of should-haves and regret from my mind as I grab my duffel bag from the back seat and head into the rink. I can't change the past, and the future isn't my problem yet. My best bet is to focus on the parts of life I can control.
Toby's invitation to stop by practice is exactly what I need. Nothing grounds me to the present moment more than thesound of skates cruising over fresh ice and the frosty rink air on my face.
I've been in a lot of skating rinks over the years. They all smell the same, a unique mix of sweaty gear, musty air, and stale popcorn. The locker room here isn't anything special, but it's functional. There are close to two dozen boys of varying sizes whizzing around the rink. Toby stands near the entrance to the ice in a dark gray hoodie and a maroon beanie with the letters SHS on the front—Skylark High School, I assume. He blows a whistle as I approach, and the boys move in, eyeing me warily from under their helmets.
Toby introduces me and mentions that I’m a two-time All American and one of the best players in the German league. I smile at the resounding courses of appreciative murmurs, interspersed with a few respectful “bruhs”. Is there any emotion bruh can’t communicate?
“Eric’s going to be skating with you hooligans this morning,” Toby announces then pulls out his wallet. “I’ve got a crisp fifty for anyone who can get past him or win a board battle.”
I cough out a laugh. “Dude. Why not put a target on my back?”
“Cash is a better incentive,” he says, elbowing me in the ribs.
Turns out a target is just what I need to clear my head. Hockey is my job, and I'm good at it—one of the best defensemen in the German league, maybe most of Europe, despite my advanced age of thirty four. But being on the ice with these boys and their excitement, adrenaline, and, let's face it, the advantage of youth and living at altitude, gives me a run for my money. By the end of the hour, I'm hot, sweaty, sore, and happy as hell. Every player thanks me for coming out today, and half of them call me coach, which, I have to admit, warms the cockles in a way I didn't expect.
Toby's paid out only one crisp fifty to a tall, lanky kid named Hudson Kircher who skates like a dream and has enviable controlof the puck for a high schooler. I pat Hudson on the shoulder as the boys exit the ice and head to the locker room.
“You want to play in college?” I ask him.. “Because you should.”
He shrugs. “I've got a couple of D2 offers, and I'm talking to some D1 programs, but I might head to Juniors after graduation.”
I see Toby's lips thin, and he gives me a pointed look. This is a tough decision for an eighteen-year-old to make—whether to start his professional career now and have a chance of getting pulled up to the big show, or head to college and potentially miss out on becoming the star he dreams of being. There isn't one hockey kid I know who wouldn't pop a chubby at the thought of someday lifting the Stanley Cup above his head in a ticker tape parade.
The reality is only a very few elite players make it to that level. Not that many even manage to get out of the minors.
I don't fully regret my decision to turn pro before graduation, but sometimes I wish I'd stuck it out. Especially now that my body has decided its days on the ice are numbered.
“I'm sure whatever you choose, you'll do great. A few years playing for a top-notch collegiate program is going to get you not only some quality ice time, but set you up for a future after hockey.”
Toby holds up a hand when the boy looks like he's going to argue. “There's alwaysafter hockey, Hudson, even if you can't see it now.”
“Yes, Coach,” the kid agrees and starts to walk past.
“Hey.” Toby stops him. “Coach Eric's nephew just transferred to Skylark. He's a freshman, and the film I’ve seen is impressive.”
I blink. Rhett has film? I can't imagine Jen coordinating that.
“He couldn't make it this morning, but any chance you could get about half a dozen guys back here at five? I want to take a look at him before we start conference play.”
“Sure, Coach.”
“And keep an eye on him at school. Make sure he gets connected with the right guys.”
“Got it, Coach.” The kid pushes his mop of blonde hair out of his eyes and offers me a respectful nod. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I appreciate that, Hudson. Juniors might seem like the right decision now, but consider your options. You have the talent and maybe the drive, but it's a long road between here and making a living on the ice.”
“There’s always Europe. You’ve made a living there, right?” His blue eyes are so hopeful. I remember that kind of hope staring back at me in the mirror.
“Yeah, although I don't know for how much longer.” I lean in like I’m imparting some deep wisdom. “There’s alwaysafter hockey.”
“Yes, Coach. Got it.” With a Bieber-worthy hair toss, he moves away.
“That was awesome, man,” I tell Toby.
