Page 77 of Actions and Reactions
“I’m okay, but can you please ask Aunt Lyla which cream I should use for my eyes, because I swear even my lashes hurt,” I beg Mom.
“Of course, honey,” she tells me, but I can see she doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and she’s about to cry herself.
Well, she can get in line, because seeing her eyes fill up only sets me off again.
Feelingssuck.
Every single oneof them.
They can go fuck themselves, but also... not.
Because when Mom goes in for a hug, I see Lottie lean closer to Dad and whisper, “I feel like he might not be okay,” so casually, that I burst into laughter.
Laughing is good, it’s nice, even when it sounds hysterical and just unhinged enough that it makes my family look even more worried.
It all started with anger, of course. That lasted for my whole second day here, and then I started to remember every conversation I’d had with Vinny where we would dream about our future in the NHL.
We thought of all of it, even knowing we’d probably end up on different teams. We were going to get the same agent and make commercials together and poke fun at each other on the ice...
I was going to hold the Stanley Cup up over my head while my parents and sister watched with pride in their eyes, and of course Vinny would do the same.
And then I realized he’s had all of this, but without me.
Dave broke me when he asked how it would be right now if the roles were reversed. Would Vinny have stayed away for so many years?
Would he have resented me?
Would he have been filled with anger at every single thing I did with my career?
I don’t think he would.
So my own failings as a friend, and as a partner these past few months, finally caught up with me.
Yes, these tears are all because I’m feeling sorry for myself, and guilty. Dave has pointed out how I’m not really dealing with the big loss yet, I’m notfeelingit yet, but I’m catching up—dealing with the feelings that the consequences have caused, and not with that first action that set everything in motion.
It’s still a lot to process.
So between sniffles and sobs I tell my family all about it, and they seem less worried by the time the day ends and we finish our trauma class where Dave explains what I’m going through to them. I also tell Mom and Dad, finally, that Vinny and I have been together since our week at the cabin, and that’s pretty much useless information to them—in a good way.
“We’ve suspected since you were kids,” Dad tells me with a careful smile that makes my eyes water yet again. “When you were like two, you used to kiss each other, and we thought it was just cute, you know? But then you’d hold hands when you were six, and hug a lot.” He shrugs. “We all talked about it, with Hulk and Lyla, and we still thought it was cute.”
“I’ve seen pictures, so I know wewerecute,” I try to joke.
No one laughs, but there are smiles all around.
“That’s also why I wanted to make sure you saw that show when I ripped into Nilsson for being such an asshole.”
I feel like a dumbass for not realizing that, but I can’t really articulate it because the relief is too big.
By the end of the session with Dave, Lottie’s calling me a fountain, and she’s not wrong.
The next day I meet my physical therapist, Todd, and find out I’m going to be working out with Colin—who is in way better shape than me—and we bond over the pain of recovery, then he asks about hockey and working for a team.
“I’m sorry,” he rushes to say when I hesitate for a second. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to of course, or if it’s painful.” Todd keeps his eyes on my hand while I curl and extend my fingers slowly, but I can tell he’s paying attention.
“It’s okay,” I reassure Colin. “If I’m honest, it’s the second-best thing,” I admit. He stops walking and I can tell I have all his attention, so I think of a cool anecdote to tell him. “The guys are normally very easy going and not only amazing players but good people too, but during the playoffs it’s a different beast. Especially when you get to the finals.”
“I bet it’s electric,” he says, somewhat dreamily.
