Page 98 of O Goalie Night
“What do you think changed?” She scoffs. “They talked to Ben and he blessed the union.”
And there we have it. This was not my parents coming to the conclusion that as long as I’m happy, they’re happy. This was Ben giving the all-clear and them falling in line.
I’m not surprised. I’m not even disappointed. I’m just so tired of being treated like what I want doesn’t matter.
“It wasn’t like that.” My dad looks sheepish. “I called your brother to talk about the recent line changes. He told me that he’d been wrong before and that he actually thought that you and Foster would be a good match. Then we talked some more about hockey and that was that.”
“So, let me get this straight.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “If Ben was still against Foster and I dating, you would be too? But since he’s come on board, you no longer have a problem with us as a couple. Did I get that right?”
“I’m still pissed you didn’t tell me,” Tara smirks. “But I never had a problem with who your boyfriend was.”
“I don’t understand what the issue is,” my mother titters as she waves a hand dismissively. “We’re okay with you dating your brother’s teammate.”
“The first problem is that he’s much more than Ben’s teammate. The second is that you’re okay with it for the wrong fucking reason.”
My mother gasps audibly and my father’s mouth hangs open. It’s the first time I’ve ever used that kind of language in front of them, so I suppose it’s understandable, but I’m not about to apologise.
“I’m tired of being treated like what I want doesn’tmatter. It’s always about what Ben wants or thinks. I used to resent him for the way our lives revolve around him, but you were the ones who made it that way. You missed most of my band concerts because Ben had a game. I had to have my tenth birthday party at a rink because Ben was in a tournament. Everything was always about him and even now that I’m an adult, nothing has changed. You care more about Ben’s feelings than mine. You value his opinion more than mine. And I’m done pretending that I’m okay with that.”
Tears blur my vision, but I don’t fight them back. I’m done acting as though it doesn’t hurt to have every decision I make questioned, every opinion dismissed with a patronising smile.
“I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never done anything to make you question my character or judgement. I just want to feel like you’ll support me regardless of my choices. Because being with Foster is one of those choices. He’s kind, and supportive, and makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to. And even if Ben were to change his mind next week, I would still choose Foster because he is what and who I want.”
The silence from my laptop speaks louder than words, but that’s fine. I’ve said what I needed to say.
“I’ve got a lot to do before I turn in for the night, so I’m going to say goodnight. I’ll see you in a few days. I love you all.” I end the call and collapse in a sobbing mess on Tamara’s couch. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but eventually the tears run dry and I’m spent. I feel better, I think. A bit lighter, like a knot that’s always been inside me has finally started to loosen.
Just as I’m about to go wash my mascara-stained face,my laptop chimes an incoming call. I’m startled to see that my parents are calling back.
I accept the call and my parents’ faces come into focus. I see that I’m not the only one who’s been crying.
“I had no idea you felt that way.” Dad sounds more like a lost little boy than the man who raised me.
“Well, I do,” I sniff, noticing that it’s just the two of them. “Where’s Tara?”
“You know how she gets when tears are involved,” he chuckles. The second someone starts to cry, my sister can’t get far away fast enough. “She told us you weren’t wrong, then left.”
“I’m sorry that I just dropped all of that on you,” I hedge.
“No, Beth. We’re the ones who are sorry.” My mother’s voice wobbles. “We were so focused on Ben’s hockey career for so long, I don’t think we could see how it was affecting you and your sisters.”
“It was all-consuming for a while,” Dad adds. “Once they told us he could make it to the NHL, we knew we’d have to make sacrifices. But we shouldn’t have let it take over everyone’s lives.”
“And we never meant for you to feel like you don’t matter. You matter so much, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I’m a bit overbearing sometimes, but it’s only because I worry, and I’m your mother and I want to protect you–never that I didn’t trust you.”
My mother just admitted to being overbearing. I can’t believe I’m not recording this call.
“Really?” I ask, feeling the pressure behind my eyes build once more.
“Of course. Whatever decisions you make about your life, your father and I will support you.”
“So you’re okay with me dating Foster?”
“If he makes you happy, we’re happy,” Mom insists.
“And you don’t mind that I live in Ottawa?”
“You can move anywhere you like and we’ll come visit,” Dad assures me.
