Hayley
“Dr. Marshall,” I say, answering the phone at the nurse’s station in north pod. I lean my right elbow against the desktop, glancing at the clock on the wall to see what time it is.
“I’ll never understand why you insisted on taking your mother’s maiden name.” My father’s voice beams through the phone as I inwardly groan.
Shifting in my spot, I release a shallow breath I was holding. “Not even five a.m. and you’re already calling me with a lecture. That’s a new record,” I say sarcastically. “Usually, we make it till I’m walking out of the hospital for you to call.”
My father Wade Richards is the owner for the Seattle Skipjacks. And every day, he calls me to give me some sort of lecture about how I should live my life.
“No lecture,” he says in a light but sarcastic tone. “Can’t a father just call to have a chat with his daughter?” he asks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. When it comes to Wade Richards, there’s never a conversation that doesn’t involve a lecture or some sort of proposition.
“Okay—well, I’m busy at work. Can’t this wait till I’m off?” I try to keep my voice calm and collected.
“Which brings me to the conversation at hand,” he says. There it is. I knew he had a lecture up his sleeve. I can only imagine what it is this time. “I think it’s time for you to get a job with normal hours.”
“Dad,” I say, my tone full of warning. “We’ve talked about this, how many times? And my answer has always been the same. Fellowship is right around the corner, and I’m a top contender for it.”
He releases a loud breath as if he’s annoyed. “You have to think about what’s best for Camden. When’s the last time you were able to be with him a full day? Never.”
Finding out I was pregnant at seventeen, then giving birth to Camden at eighteen was never a part of the plans my parents had set aside for me.
Raising Camden as a single mom was even more of a wrench to their plans.
They were against it all, medical school, motherhood, but because of my grandfather, being the voice of reason, they always supported me.
“We can agree to disagree on that.” My tone comes out harsher than I intended. “You’re forgetting that all I’ve done has been for him.”
“Fine. You made your point,” he says, and I can hear him pace in his office.
“But hear me out. Dr. Monroe is retiring before the start of the season, and we need a new trainer.” Here we go again.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before continuing, “And you have both the medical degree and training degree that would be beneficial to the team. You know I’ve always wanted you to play a part within the team, and since you didn’t want the business aspect of it—then I guess this is the best I’m going to get. ”
Ever since I graduated high school and pushed to go to medical school, my father hasn’t supported my decision.
Business school was always his dream for me so that one day I could take over ownership of the Skipjacks.
I guess he finally figured that I could still manage the team in some aspect if I wouldn’t take over right out the gate.
I mean it’s why I got my bachelor’s in sports sciences before getting my MD in emergency and sport medicine.
I know what I have to do, but is giving up everything I worked for, to end up back under my father’s thumb what I really want? I know what my answer should be, but I can’t help but think how incredible taking a fellowship would be long term. I release a breath, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Dad, can I have a day or two to think about it before I formally accept your job offer?” I say even though I know he’s right; I owe it to Cam.
“I’ll talk to my director when I get off.
See what my options are.” Let him know I will most likely be turning down a fellowship slot despite how great of an opportunity it is.
Residency technically ended weeks ago, but I’ve been putting off the decision on what to do after this for a while now.
“Fine. Then I guess I’ll let you go,” he says with a softer tone, yet I can still detect the hint of triumph. “Camden and I will be over before we head to hockey camp at the arena,” he reminds me as if I’ve forgotten.
“Sounds good, Dad. See you later,” I say as we both hang up.
I prop my arms on the nurse’s station, dropping my head to my hands, releasing a deep sigh.
Okay, maybe Dad is right. I know he’s right.
Being a single mom means I have to think of Cam, and working long hours, sometimes twenty-four hours straight and overnights, consistently can take away from that.
At least one good thing will come from this; I’ll get to continue doing what I love by practicing medicine while also being involved with the team, which will keep my father happy. Kill two birds with one stone.
◆◆◆
Two hours of sleep is all I manage to get before the sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood floors comes closer to my room. I roll over and look toward the door as it slowly creaks open. The silence is deafening until the bed dips down from the weight of someone jumping on it.
“GOOD MORNING, MOM!” Camden’s voice carries throughout the room.
Rolling over, I pull him into my arms. Tickling his sides and kissing his cheeks until he can bear no more. “Good morning to you too, buddy. Did you eat breakfast?”
He chuckles for a moment. “You think Gram would let me starve?” He laughs again. “Yeah, I ate. Waffles with peanut butter and maple sausage.”
My mother, like my father, was against my decisions to be a doctor and a single mother, has been nonetheless an angel. Watching Cam for my long, tiring shifts and sometimes keeping him overnight. I don’t know what I would do without her sometimes.
“As always. What time’s the clinic today?”
“Twelve. Pop says we leave in thirty minutes,” he says, climbing out of the bed. “Do you have to work tonight?”
My heart breaks as his face falls. I realize I’ve made the right decision. “Not tonight, buddy. I’m all yours.”
His face brightens a little. “So, you’ll come to hockey camp today?”
“Yes. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go. Tell your pop,” I say, kissing the crown of his head before he pulls away.
He runs out the door doing what looks like a celebration dance as I make my way to the bathroom to quickly get ready. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this happy. I guess my father is right; Cam needs this more than I do.
Twenty minutes later, after rushing around my unkempt room, I’m ready to go. I make my way toward the kitchen where Camden and my father are seated at the breakfast bar. Pulling a to-go mug from the cabinet, I fill it to the top with coffee.
“Twenty minutes. That’s a new record,” my father states, looking up from his newspaper. “All that time just for you to look like you belong in a Bass Pro Shop catalog.”
My wild hair is piled high on my head in a messy bun, while I’m dressed in a pair of high-waisted jeans with a red flannel opened in the front, showing off a gray, loose-fitting tank that’s been tucked into the top of my jeans.
I look at him with a bewildered look on my face.
“Well, at least I put on some makeup. God forbid you’re seen in public with a tired doctor and mom. ”
Camden chuckles at my response, while my father sits unamused. Grabbing my to-go mug, I make my way to the front door and throw on my favorite pair of Sperry’s. “Well, are you coming or am I going to this thing alone?”
The car ride is spent listening to Cam go on and on about his favorite players and who he hopes to train with.
When we walk into the arena, I can’t remember the last time I was here, but everything still feels the same.
The team colors of teal, purple, white, and black line the entire stadium, while championship banners hang from the ceiling.
“You two go ahead.” My father’s voice carries throughout the arena as we make our way toward the ice.
It’s been years since I’ve last stepped foot in this arena.
Camden had just turned two and my father, despite how disappointed he was at first about having a grandson, was nonetheless proud and couldn’t wait to show him off.
It was also the last time I had laid eyes on Camden’s father Boyce Cameron.
He was in his second season with the New York Edge.
And when I walked to the ice with Camden in my arms to show him the teams warming up, he didn’t even bat an eye or look in our direction.
Yeah, it hurt big time. It hurt even more as Cam grew and fell in love with hockey, his all-time favorite player being none other than Boyce.
How he idolized the very man who abandoned him before he was even born.
I know. I should let it go considering Cam has no clue who Boyce actually is, but how can someone forget a thing like that?
He was Camden’s own flesh and blood, and he wanted nothing to do with him in the end.
The past consumes my mind as Camden’s voice brings me back. “Mom, can you tighten my skates for me? I always have trouble getting them tight.” I smile as I drop his bag to the side of his seat.
“Sure, buddy,” I say with a smile.
A few of the guys from the team and clinic kids take the ice. I stand at the glass and watch Cam skate with a smile on his face when a few of the guys walk by.
“Man, I love when we have clinic. All the hot hockey moms and desperate housewives come out to play.” He looks my way and winks.