Chapter 52 Adrian
ADRIAN
Jesse’s memorial is the day before the Wings are set to fly out to Edmonton for their first pre-season game.
It’s taking place in my hometown, a place called Hope, which is about a two-hour drive from Vancouver.
We get there right before the service is about to start, and walk into a community center that I used to volunteer at as a teenager.
There are fold-out tables and chairs available for seating. They arranged them to face a podium on a small stage. Most of the spots are already filled with people, busy in their own conversations.
Criss-crossing streamers hang from walls, reminding everyone this is a celebration, focusing on Jesse’s life, not his death.
There’s also a main tribute station full of his favorite belongings, including his beloved hockey jersey.
Next to that table is pizza and drinks, freely available to anyone who wants them.
I keep staring at Jesse’s hockey stuff.
Sonya holds my hand. Mine is getting damp, but she hasn’t complained. She also hasn’t asked me about what happened to him. I can tell she’s curious though, with how she’s taking everything in.
I want to tell her, but I can’t put into words what I’ve spent every day atoning for. I’m struggling to face it. Still, she deserves to learn the truth. No matter what, I’m telling her tonight. My gut pretzels. I wouldn’t blame her if she walks away afterwards.
Sonya finds us tucked-away seats. By some miracle, I haven’t been recognized. I’m relieved, because this is all for Jesse. I don’t want to pull attention from that. The baseball hat riding low on my forehead helps.
Lights dim.
Someone taps on a microphone by a podium.
My stomach drops to the floor.
It’s Jesse’s dad. He looks older, has lost most of his hair, but those same serious eyes haven’t changed. They are the same color as Jesse’s were.
“I’d like to thank everyone for being here,” he starts off. “When I was putting together this memorial, I realized something. Jesse loved it here. This town may hold hard memories for me, but it’s also the perfect place to celebrate my son.”
Pain stabs through me, and I clench my muscles. The night I’m afraid to remember stomps on the doorstep of my mind.
“I don’t talk a lot,” continues Jesse’s dad. “Never have. So I’m going to let other people share what made Jesse so special.”
A line of people go to the front of the room. There are relatives, old teachers, coaches, neighbors, and more. They all have prepared speeches about Jesse. And I wish I could hear them, but there’s a roar in my ears and shame curling in my gut.
Sonya’s hand finds my knee under the table. Not stopping muscles from jumping, but soothing them as they do. I couldn’t survive this without her. The noise in my ear recedes enough to be manageable. I’m sipping breaths in.
When the speeches end, Jesse’s dad goes back to the podium. “I believe Jesse heard all that.” His voice cracks. “He was very lucky to be loved by all of you.”
Lucky?
My gut cramps into an unforgiving knot.
Jesse was not lucky having me as his friend.
Do I really think I deserve to be here?
I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I shouldn’t be there. Not after what I’ve done—
Guilt climbs my throat as I stand and back away as quietly as I can. I’ll apologize to Sonya afterwards. First, I have to get out of this room. I don’t belong. I don’t deserve—
“Adrian.”
I’m almost at the exit, but I turn.
It’s Jesse’s dad. He’s calling my name.
Heads are pivoting and people are whispering. I’ve been recognized, and I can’t breathe. Not because of that, but because Jesse’s dad meets my eyes.
“Son?”
My eyes well up. There’s a wallop in my chest that grows and grows until my knees shake. We’ve spoken online over the years, but this is the first time I’ve been in the same room and heard him call me that in so long.
“You don’t have to come up here,” he says, “but if you wanted to say a few words, I would like that.”
The corners of my eyes prick. I can’t move. My throat feels hot and tight.
Then I feel it, the weight of a hand against my lower back. Sonya.
“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” she whispers. No pressure, just unwavering support. It’s a balm, lending me strength. Somehow, I’m heading towards the podium.
Jesse’s dad offers me his hand when I reach him. I shake it as I step onto the stage. This isn’t real. I realize it is when the podium creaks. I’m holding it so hard, the wooden edges bite into my palms.
People are whispering louder.
I’m speechless, I’m so ashamed.
Sonya steps into my line of vision. You can do this, she mouths.
Her gaze is stubborn and fierce, and beats back my turmoil for me. She’s always beautiful but in all black, she’s also a warrior. This time she’s fighting for me. Emotion hitches in my throat and my words start to unstick.
“Jesse was my best friend. And…from the moment I met him, I knew he was going to change the world.”
I take a long, deep breath.
“I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he was picked to be on the Canadian World Junior team because Jesse’s talent was that undeniable.
Everyone wanted him, and they also cheered him on.
That’s because bigger than anything else was Jesse’s heart.
He kept saying to me, ‘Adrian, we’re going to end up on the same team, become the best players in the NHL, and one day, play for Team Canada together. ”
I shake my head. “This year, I was invited to be the captain for Team Canada at the World Championships, but I couldn’t imagine being there without him.
Actually…for a long time…” My voice thickens.
“I couldn’t imagine anything without him.
When he got the news about playing for the Juniors, instead of celebrating for him, I got scared.
I thought I was getting left behind. So the day I found out he signed, I wallowed at home, thinking only about myself. ”
My head drops. I’m shrinking into myself, my voice growing smaller. “He called me afterwards, but I didn’t pick up. I put my phone on silent until almost midnight. That’s how long it took for me to kick myself and realize my best friend deserved better.”
I flinch. “Turns out, Jesse being Jesse, had already tried to come over and see me. Only—it was raining, and he turned his car too fast around a corner and it slid off the road, and by—by the time I was calling him back, he was already gone.”
My eyes scrunch tight. “If I had gone and celebrated with him like I should have, Jesse might still be here. Instead, on the last day of his life, I was jealous of my best friend.”
There’s a pressure on my shoulder. It’s Jesse’s dad leaning against me, dabbing his eyes.
“The only reason,” I choke out, “that I’ve made it this far in life is because of you, Mr. Osler. After his funeral, you pushed me to keep going, to make it professionally, to do it for Jesse. And—“
I can’t take it anymore. I mumble an apology and walk offstage.
Jesse’s dad follows me and waits until we’re off to the side, away from the podium, before he pulls me against him, holding and hugging me fiercely.
“I’m s-sorry,” I shudder. “It’s my fault—”
“It’s not your fault—“
“—I promise you, I’m trying to be better. To always be there, to always pick up the phone, to not think about myself over others. For Jesse.”
He pulls back and grips my shoulders. “That must be exhausting, son.”
My face crumbles. It is.
“It’s been way too long, Adrian. You have to let go. Whatever happened that night, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a kid. A kid with a good heart.” He hugs me again. “Son, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, son.”
I cling to him. I can’t let go.
He doesn’t let me try. “He loved you, Adrian.”
“I l-loved him, too.”
“I know. That’s why you have to forgive yourself. You have to let go of the guilt. Do you hear me? It wasn’t your fault.”
I think—for the first time—I do hear him. And I start to think that I could forgive myself. This rock that’s lived in my chest for a really long time starts to break down.