Page 119 of Blindside Me
Something in his tone, not judgment, just simple observation, makes me turn. Uncle Howell stands there in hisCessna University coaching jacket, hands in his pockets. His eyes flick to the skates in my arms, understanding dawning.
“Ah.”
That’s it. Just “ah.” Like finding his niece crying in a hallway, clutching his star player’s destroyed equipment, is perfectly normal.
Something snaps inside me. “No. Not ‘ah.’ Not fine. Not okay.” I lift the skates slightly. “What happened to these?”
He sighs, shoulders dropping a fraction. “Drew happened to them. After the fight, after the meeting with the athletic director. He came back here alone.”
I look down at the mangled leather, picturing Drew’s hands, those strong, controlled hands, tearing into his own equipment in blind rage or despair.
“Did you try to stop him?”
“By the time I found him, it was done.”
I stare at my uncle, suddenly seeing the shadows under his eyes that match mine. The strain around his mouth. This has been hard on him as well.
“I told you that you didn’t have to come here,” he says.
“Well, someone had to clean up the mess.” The double meaning isn’t lost on either of us.
His eyes soften slightly. “Jade?—”
“No.” I cut him off, a ten-day dam of hurt and anger finally breaching. “You don’t get to ‘Jade’ me right now. You left me, too.”
The words explode between us, too loud in the empty hallway. I’ve never said it so directly before, always dancing around the abandonment with careful jokes and forced smiles.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to defend himself. Just says, “I know.”
His simple acknowledgement deflates some of my anger, leaving raw hurt in its place.
“You were supposed to be there.” My voice cracks. “After Mom left again. After everything. And you took this job and disappeared.”
“I thought your mother had it under control.” He runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “She threatened to cut me off completely if I interfered. And then you stopped answering my calls.”
“Because it hurt too much!” The words echo down the corridor. “Everyone leaves. Mom. You. Now him.” I glance down at the skates. “I’m tired of being left behind.”
Uncle Howell steps closer. “I ran,” he admits, voice low. “I knew she wasn’t okay, but it was easier to tell myself you’d figure it out.” He looks at the trophies behind the glass. “I convinced myself you’d be fine.”
The honesty surprises me and loosens something tight in my chest.
“I thought I was invisible to you,” I whisper.
“You think you’re invisible but never were to me.” His voice is firm now. “I saw you. I was just too afraid to do anything about it. Afraid I’d mess up worse than your mom did.”
I sniffle, embarrassed by the tears I can’t seem to control. “That’s a pretty low bar.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Fair point.”
Silence stretches between us, less tense than before. I adjust my grip on the skates, but their weight is growing uncomfortable.
“He did this because of me,” I finally say.
Uncle Howell shakes his head. “No. He did this because of him. He’s terrified of becoming his father. His brother.”
I frown, confused.
“Drew’s father is…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Let’s just say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with that punch he threw. His brother Jake was the same way; he had aquick temper and was self-destructive. Constantly getting into fights on the ice. Scouts noticed and talked. The last game he played, he apparently got into an argument with his dad over his girlfriend.”
