Chapter 5
BEN
“Iabsolutely love the foliage this time of year!”
Sandra, the intake coordinator from Big Buddies, has been in my car for twenty minutes and has filled that time commenting on all the things she loves.
The list includes but is not limited to: my car, an Indian restaurant we passed a few kilometres back, the pottery class she’s taking, the current weather we’re having, and now the foliage.
But most of all? She really loves her job.
She spoke so passionately about supporting families in need.
When she confessed her frustration over wanting to do more but feeling constrained by limited resources, her voice wavered and she got choked up.
I’ll be honest—I did, too. I could practically feel the way she carried the weight of others’ struggles as if they were her own.
It ignited something in me, an urge to step up and make a difference. I’m just not sure how.
I look at the trees as I drive by them. The vibrant reds and burnt orange leaves are beautiful, I’ll give her that.
It reminds me of my childhood back on Prince Edward Island.
When the leaves started changing colours, it wouldn’t be long until the pond froze, and I could be on some kind of ice almost all the time.
I run a hand through my hair, still damp from my post practice shower.
Again, I find myself wondering if Sam plays hockey.
Even if he doesn’t, he can probably skate.
Most Canadian kids can by his age. It could be fun to take him skating on the Rideau Canal once it freezes.
I’ve lived in the city for five years and still haven’t gone.
“We’re almost there,” Sandra says. “Take the next right.”
“Didn’t you say Sam’s mom works in Smith’s Falls?” That would be a long drive everyday.
“Yes. One of her jobs is in Smith’s Falls. It’s a long commute for Elliot.”
“One of her jobs? How many does she have?”
“Three. She works full time as a physiotherapist, though her hours are unpredictable and her shifts sometimes get cancelled. She teaches an aquafit class twice a week at a local swimming pool and, in her limited spare time, makes custom cookie orders. She’s a wonderful woman who is doing her best with the cards life dealt her.
Sam is old enough to be at home by himself now, but I know she worries about him spending so much time on his own. ”
“Is there a co-parent in the picture?”
For the first time since I’ve picked her up, Sandra’s sunny expression clouds over. “No, there is not.”
Message received.
A couple minutes later, she directs me to a small gray duplex with light blue shutters that desperately need a fresh coat of paint. The grass is overgrown, and I don’t see any bikes or scooters in the driveway, just an old Toyota Matrix.
I park next to the car and we make our way up the stone pathway to the front door and knock.
A moment later, it opens revealing a petite woman who looks too young to have an eleven-year-old.
Her ash-blonde hair is gathered on top of her head in a messy bun held together by a bright pink elastic.
Not a hair elastic though. The thick rubber band type that holds together stalks of broccoli at the grocery store.
Her green eyes widen as they look up at me and her face breaks into a grin.
“Hey! You’re early! Or maybe I’m running late? Either way, come on in!”
The moment I’m inside, she closes the door behind us and takes off down the hall, tidying stacks of books and picking up the odd article of clothing as she goes.
“Leave your shoes on,” she calls to us over her shoulder.
Sandra just smiles as she motions me to follow. “Elliot has one speed: warp,” she whispers. I trail behind her through the narrow hallway.
“Sam, sweetie. Sandra and Ben are here,” Elliot calls as she leads us into the cozy living room.
A young boy sits curled up on a faded blue couch, his arms and legs crossed, his focus locked on the chessboard spread out before him on the coffee table.
His chestnut hair is tousled and his green eyes are narrowed with quiet concentration.
There’s a furrow in his brow, a deep focus that makes him look older than his eleven years, though the faint smattering of freckles on his nose reminds me he’s still just a kid.
“Hi, Sam.” Sandra smiles warmly at him. “It’s good to see you again. This is Ben.”
“Hey there, Sam.” I give him an awkward wave.
After a moment, he looks up and gives me a reluctant smile. Straightening, he extends his right hand to me saying, “It’s nice to meet you.”
It takes me a second to react. I’ve met lots of kids since joining the NHL. I’ve had kids hug me, babble excitedly, even a few who just stared at me in stunned silence. I’ve never been greeted so formally by someone who comes up to my elbow.
I shake his hand, noting his surprisingly strong grip. “Nice to meet you, too, man. I’m excited to get to spend some time with you.”
Sam’s eyes narrow the tiniest bit, but he nods. “Great.”
“Can I get you two anything?” his mom asks, looking anxiously between the two of us. “Something to drink? Something to eat?”
Before I can respond, Sam says, “We’re good, Mom. The pamphlet says we're supposed to get to know one another on our own. Find shared interests to help us establish a bond. Right, Sandra?”
Sandra smiles gently at him. “That’s right.”
“Did you remember to set the timer on the cookies?” he asks his mom.
She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Crap on a cracker, I forgot about the cookies. I’ll go do that now.” She pauses in the doorway, unsure of herself. “Just give me a call if you need anything. I’m Elliot. Did I say that already?”
I huff a laugh because I can’t help it. She’s chaos, but in the most endearing way. “It’s nice to meet you, Elliot.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Sandra offers. She gives me an encouraging grin before following Sam’s mom from the room.
“So, Sam.” I start, feeling a bit larger than life in the small room. “Tell me about yourself.”
The moment the footsteps fade away, Sam turns back to me. “We don’t need to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend to care about getting to know one another. Neither of us wants to be here, so let’s just make it as painless as possible, okay?”
“I want to be here.”
He gives me a look that tells me he’s not buying whatever I’m selling.
“I’m serious.” I insist. “Why do you think I volunteered?”
“I assumed it was some sort of court-mandated community service.” His brow furrows as he looks back at the chessboard. “Though I Googled you extensively and couldn’t find any evidence of a criminal record.”
The bark of laughter that comes out of me appears to surprise him. He cocks an eyebrow as he sits back against the sofa, regarding me. I regard him right back. He’s small for his age. He’s got the same green eyes as his mom, though his hair is a bit darker.
Sam gives his head a shake, annoyed that he hasn’t figured me out yet. “So why are you doing this?”
Why am I doing this?
If you want to be less self-involved, try performing selfless acts.
Because I want to prove to myself and others that I’m not an egotistical asshole? Because I have the time and resources to make a difference in some kid’s life?
Because even though I live a big life, it feels empty sometimes?
“I’ve been given a lot over the years,” I say, deciding to keep it as honest as possible. “I’d like to give back.”
He frowns but remains silent and I start to second guess my approach. If I want to connect with this kid, I’m going to need to figure out what makes him tick.
“What are your interests, Sam?”
“Not hockey.” He says the word with disdain.
I figured as much, given his lack of enthusiasm at my presence. “That’s cool. What do you like?”
He looks at the game in front of him and back up to me, but doesn’t answer.
“You like…chess?”
“Yeah.” The silence stretches and I’m about to start fishing again when he adds, “I’m ranked third in the province, for my age.”
“No shit?”
His eyes widen and I remember I’m talking to a minor, not a locker room full of adults.
“Shit–I mean, crap.” The fact that I keep fucking up gets the smallest of smiles from my new buddy and I take it as a win. “That’s awesome.”
I glance around the room, searching for anything that might help me crack the wall this kid has built up.
I spot the bookshelf in the corner. Unlike the rest of the house, it looks meticulously in order.
“Wow,” I say, nodding toward it. “That’s a lot of books. You read all of those?”
Sam doesn’t look up from his chessboard, but his shoulders lift in a small shrug. “Most of them,” he mutters, barely audible.
I walk over to it, scanning the shelf. It’s an eclectic mix—dog-eared paperbacks, shiny hardcovers, even a few old, leather-bound volumes. Fantasy, sci-fi, biographies, graphic novels. A well-worn copy of The Hobbit leans against a towering stack of Percy Jackson.
“Percy Jackson, huh?” I say, pulling one of them off the shelf and flipping it open. “I tried reading these in high school. I couldn’t keep all the names straight.”
For the first time there’s just a flicker of curiosity in his green eyes. “You couldn’t keep the names straight?” he asks, like I’ve just admitted to being the idiot he suspects me to be.
I shrug, setting the book back in its spot. “Yeah, I guess Greek mythology wasn’t my strong suit. But hockey stats? I’m unbeatable.”
He snorts.
“You like fantasy stuff?” I ask, nodding toward the shelf.
Sam hesitates, then shrugs again. “I guess.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I say, crouching down to scan the lower shelves. “It’s like an escape, right? Different world, different rules.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him watching me now, his interest piqued despite himself.
I grab a book at random and flip through it quickly. It’s got a fire breathing dragon on the cover. “This one any good?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and he finally unfolds his arms. “That’s part of a series. You can’t just start in the middle.”
“Ah, rookie mistake,” I say, putting the book back and standing. “Next time we hang out we should go to a bookstore. You could show me some books you’re interested in? Maybe recommend some stuff you think I might like?”
“You’re…you’re going to come back?” He’s doubtful, to say the least, but instead of being irritated by his low opinion of me, it makes me sad. Sam’s too young to be this jaded. What happened to him to make him this way?
“Of course I am.”
The creases in his forehead relax the slightest bit and he shrugs. “We’ll see.”
I watch him turn back to the chessboard only feeling my determination grow. This kid doesn’t know it yet but I don’t back down from challenges.
A few hours later I’m stretched out on my couch, beer in hand brushing up on my chess skills with an online game. I’ve got it set to beginner, but the app is still kicking my ass.
As I’m debating my next move, an incoming call notification appears at the top of my screen. I don’t recognize the number and am about to decline the call but then pause. I left my number with Elliot before I left her and Sam. Did I forget something? I swipe to answer.
“Hello?”
“Ben Michaels?”
“Yeah.”
“Alyssa Beauchamp with the Love & Light Foundation.” The woman’s voice, while friendly, lacks any real warmth.
“I won’t take up much of your time. We’re looking for a new Festive Fellowship ambassador and host for our Star Of Christmas Gala fundraiser in December.
Your name was put forward as an option and I’m reaching out to confirm your availability. ”
I sit up rubbing the bridge of my nose. The what of Christmas? A Gala? And they want me to host? I’m no stranger to charity work, but entertaining a bunch of rich people in some stuffy ballroom is not my thing.
“I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Oh no.” Alyssa’s disappointment sounds insincere on the line. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you. Our new director, Madelyn, clearly dropped the ball on this. My sincerest apologies.”
“Wait.” My heart starts to pound in my ears. It’s so loud that I wonder if Alyssa can hear it, too. “Madelyn? Madelyn Clairmont?”
I hold my breath as I wait for her confirmation. For a moment, I worry she’s left the call.
“Yes.” Her tone is clipped, even colder than before.
I feel like a game show contestant trying to solve a puzzle in a time crunch. Maddy has a new job in Ottawa. She gave them my name for an upcoming event. I don’t have anything else to go on. I don’t understand what any of this means.
What I do know is that there isn’t a time or place that she could call where I wouldn’t come running.
“Right. The Gala. Tell Madelyn I’m in.”