Chapter 11 #2
in a public hockey rink hallway when I was fourteen send a chill up my spine. The dense Miami air has never felt so hot; my
palms begin to prickle and my nose beads with sweat.
“I’m heading out,” I say, looking for an exit.
“Don’t be a pussy, Brody. It’s bad for the image,” my dad shouts. “No one likes a teammate who bails.”
I want to explain that I’m not bailing on my teammates but protecting my own mental health by getting away from him. But I
don’t. Instead, I say, “I want to be early to practice tomorrow. Work on my shot.”
“I know what that means. I saw you talking to that girl at the bar. I remember those days.” My dad flashes a slimy grin, and
I’m sick to my stomach thinking how similar our smiles look.
“Sure. Yeah. Exactly.” I will say anything to get out of this situation.
“I still want a proper visit with you in Minnesota. I need to meet Olivia and make sure she’s up to par if she’s going to
give me the next generation of Parker hockey players. It’s my legacy, after all.” He finishes the rest of his drink in one
big gulp.
While trying to create the “Parker legacy,” my mom suffered from infertility for years.
It’s a miracle I’m here. After two miscarriages, they turned to IVF.
Finally, I was born. The whole thing took a heavy toll on my mom, but still paled in comparison to the wedge my dad put between her and I—a wedge that’s still dividing us to this day.
While my dad ignores my every attempt to distance myself from his control, it’s my mom who best respects my boundaries.
A perseverant detachment never intended for her, but not seeing my mom often is the unfortunate collateral to avoid my dad’s grip.
I was never a son to him, always a future hockey player.
Hockey above everything is the only way to survive that man.
“You’ll love her. She’s got great hockey IQ.” I force a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.
“Good, now go get that blonde at the bar before someone else steals her off your stick. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he
shouts back as he disappears deeper into the crowd. I leave without saying goodbye to anyone.
I make a pit stop before going back to the hotel. The rink isn’t open at this hour, but there’s one other place I know that
always helps me clear my head.
I trek through the sand, grains seeping into my sneakers with every step. While seeking refuge from the bustle of the city’s
nightlife, I plop myself down a few feet from the water. The ocean is an escape that doesn’t ask anything of me. Instead,
it listens.
I cradle my face in the palms of my hands and let out a long exhale. Physical distance isn’t the only measure I’m trying to
wedge between my dad and me. I’m at constant war with myself every time he’s near. Everyone says I’m like my old man, but
how deep do those similarities hide?
What am I willing to do to be a hockey legend? Will I cheat, lie, manipulate, and control my way to the top? Why was I talking
to that woman tonight? Was I really going to do something with her? Sometimes I feel like I’m on my own career path, but then
I get a bit of fatherly reassurance from him that makes me feel so good I doubt I’ll ever succeed without his help.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Olivia’s face.
I bet she would tell me I had a good game—not great, but nothing to be ashamed of.
One shot went wide, but four others hit the net and one went in.
My dad noticed one missed pass but conveniently skipped over the countless others that went tape to tape.
I pull out my phone and before I can think better of it, I’m pressing Call.
“Hello?” Olivia’s voice is hoarse, a bit shaky.
“Shit, how late is it?” The regret is instant. She’s going to think I’m crazy.
“I don’t know. You called me. Who is this?” she says with more clarity in her voice, and a bit of sass to her tone.
“Are you ever going to save my number in your phone? It’s Brody.”
“I know. I’m messing with you.”
“Are you sleeping?” I give her an out, but I’m hoping she doesn’t take it.
“I was. Did you call to ask what time it is?” There’s a slight giggle on her end followed by a long pause.
“Maybe.” I laugh.
“It’s twelve thirty a.m. here.”
“So, it’s one thirty a.m. here.” I dig my fingers into the sand, grounding myself into the beach. A wave crashes and the tide
creeps up. It’s dark, but between the crescent moon hanging above and the glow of the city’s pulse, there’s enough light to
see the black waves cap.
“Where’s here?” she asks.
“Miami.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It is. Have you ever been?” I slip off my shoes and socks and plant my feet into the sand. I feel at home, maybe even more
than when I’m on ice.
“No, I don’t travel much.”
“I travel too much.” I laugh, and she politely does the same.
“I hear waves in the background. What’s the ocean like?” she asks before breaking into a loud yawn.
“Alive and yet, calming. It’s a pretty standard ocean view.” My shoulders, which had previously been curled up to my ears,
finally relax back into my familiar poised posture. My jaw unclenches and my chest opens up. With each deep inhale of fresh
salty air, my heart rate slowly returns to its normal resting pulse.
“I’ve never seen one.”
“What?” I lean forward, shouting into the phone. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s never been to the ocean, let alone
never seen one.
“Not a whole lot of oceans in the Midwest.”
“Right. Of course.” I quiet myself, not wanting to make her feel bad.
“Put me on speaker. I want to hear it,” she says in a cute sleepy voice.
I hit the button and hold my phone up. A big wave comes crashing on cue. “Can you hear it?”
We’re silent for a moment while the waves loudly dance.
“Yeah. It sounds peaceful.”
“It is. I like to come here to block out the noise.” I dig my feet in a bit deeper, anchoring myself to this moment, this
part of my night I want to remember. More tension washes off me with each incoming wave.
My entire life I’ve been searching for healthy escapes from my dad and the “Parker legacy.” The beach is one of my favorite spots; a good book is a close second.
Get the two together and I never want to leave.
I gave up my safe space to go play for the Freeze in Minnesota, but Olivia has quickly become a nice replacement.
“Bad night?” she asks.
I’ve already confessed enough for one evening. “You could say that.”
“Should we listen to the ocean together?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” I set my phone down beside me and we sit in silence together, listening to nature’s orchestra.