Page 26 of Puck'N Enemy
I stare at Coach Becker, wondering what happened to him.
It’s been four years since I last saw the man, but an uncanny change has come over him. He looks far too old and too thin.
Coach Becker was the guy in his fifties who used to run laps and train with the kids from the hockey team. He coached me over the four years I spent in high school.
He’d been a fit man with impressive muscles but now, his entire frame seems to have shrunk. His skin is no longer tanned and healthy. His cheekbones appear too sharp, and the hollows under his eyes make him look like he hasn’t slept in days.
Even though he no longer resembles his past self, it’s unmistakably Coach Becker. He’s the man who shaped me into the goalie I am today.
A flicker of recognition flits through his tired eyes. “Logan? Logan Johnson?”
I blink. “Yeah,” I blurt. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Coach. I was looking for someone else. They must’ve given me the wrong address.” I step back slowly.
“Are you looking for Dylan?”
My feet come to a halt. I stare at him, realizing he doesn’t look all too surprised to see me.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice low. “I’m looking for Dylan.”
Coach doesn’t ask another question. He just pulls the door open wider and steps aside, gesturing at me to follow him.
I walk inside the apartment.
To my surprise, the place is exceptionally neat and clean. The furniture is worn out but looks comfortable. Old photos line the table tops and the smell of a herby soup wafts from the kitchen.
Coach walks over to a recliner in the corner and lowers himself into it. It takes him considerable effort to spread a blanket over his lap.
The small table next to him is covered in bottles of pills. It doesn’t take a genius to guess he’s been sick.
“Sit,” he says gruffly, with that familiar authority that still makes me obey him without thinking. And suddenly, I remember the man who made a team out of a bunch of broken boys.
I sit down on a couch and face him.
“I’ve been following your career, Johnson,” Coach says after a moment. “You’ve grown into one hell of a goalie and a captain. The Thunder Knights team has been on a winning streak over the past few years, all thanks to your efforts.”
My chest tightens with a nostalgic ache. It feels damn good to hear him say I’ve made something out of myself.
A faint smile flickers on his pale lips. “You’ll get drafted soon, boy. I have no doubt about it.”
“Coach...I missed you.”
He barks a laugh.
“But the thing I miss most is you yelling at me when I let the puck through the glove side.”
Coach chuckles, but the next moment, he starts coughing violently.
I’m on my feet and next to him in a heartbeat. “Coach, are you okay?”
He waves a hand as he continues to cough. It’s a while before he calms down and settles into his recliner.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he rasps. “I’m not going to die, kid.”
“Coach, what’s happened to you?” I ask softly.
“Chemo. Round three.”
My chest tightens immediately. “Is anyone taking care of you?” I ask, my gaze roving around the living room.
