Page 84 of From Helsinki with Love
“Well, you know now.”
“Just like half of Finland based on the tabloids,” Elise adds unhelpfully.
That makes Vivian chuckle. “And probably a few Americans, to be fair.”
“We can’t forget Swedes, Canadians, Russians, and others who follow ice hockey. They must’ve somehow heard,” Linnea comments jokingly.
“Ha, very funny. You all know that the media will find its next big obsession and move on in a few days anyway,” I offer before continuing. “I hate that we have to be in the center of attention, but at least it should die down soon.”
“Unless you do something else noteworthy and it all starts again,” Mom mumbles.
“It’s exactly what happened when we started dating after the Olympics.” Pappa smiles, remembering the early days of their relationship. “But then I got your mom pregnant weeks later, and well, you can only imagine that shitstorm.”
I start laughing with him, and my mom rolls her eyes. “Imagine that,” she says.
“But you’re still together after almost thirty-one years, so it must mean something,” Vivian comments.
“Sweetie, listen carefully. Only you and Jasper really know what’s happening between you two. Everything else is just background noise. Remember that, and you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Anne. Now, can you show me those photo albums you promised during the Christmas dinner?”
My mom replies, “Of course,” at the same time as I say, “No.”
“Don’t be a party pooper, hockey hunk!” Vivian tells me, and my sisters make fun of the nickname by repeating it in silly voices.
I groan. “Okay then, but I’ll stay here with Pappa until the lunch arrives.”
The women leave the living room, and the silence is deafening. It never used to be this awkward being with my pappa. I hate this new dynamic between us.
After another few minutes of silence, he finally speaks, “Can I ask you something?” I nod, so he continues. “Has it all been because of me…because of my accident?”
Dread fills me, but I act unaffected by asking, “What are you talking about?”
“The partying…media…the women…fights,” he lists using his fingers. “It wasn’t that bad before September. And we both know what happened must have triggered something.”
“Pappa, I—” That’s the only thing I get out before the tears start spilling out and a sob leaves my mouth. Pappa rolls his wheelchair beside me, grabbing my hands.
“Jasper, son, it’s okay,” he says, staring into my eyes. “Just take a really deep breath for me.”
I do as he says before voicing my biggest fear. “But what if you can’t ever walk again? How about hockey?”
He looks down at his legs and sighs. “Only time will tell. But most likely, I won’t be playing or coaching in the future.”
“How can you be okay with that?”
“I have seen a therapist at least two times a week since the accident,” Pappa says, making my eyes go wide. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing wrong with needing help. Us men are taught to suck it up from a young age, but I'm learning how toxic that type of thinking truly is.”
“It’s not that…I just had no idea you needed professional help like that.”
“Well, we all wanted to give you space to process your feelings after the accident. It has always been hard for you to do that in front of others, so we thought letting you be was the right thing to do. But looking back, it was the wrong move.”
Damn, that’s right. “How’s therapy helping you?”
“My therapist has helped me see that there are many other things in my life than hockey. But of course, there are still times I catch myself thinking what if I won’t be on the ice again,” he explains. “I think you should talk to someone too. Clearly, you weren’t happy before your trip back home. Vivian has worked her magic on you, but it isn’t her job alone to make you feel better.”
“I don’t know…I'd rather handle it all myself.”
My comment makes him laugh. “I told your mother the exact same thing, but she insisted. And I’m glad I listened.”
