Chapter 4
An NHL Star in the Making
Mia
News of Mrs. Johnson’s death made it through the neighborhood.
I’d worked with enough dementia patients to know that this would be both a blessing and a terrible loss for her family.
There’d been a period of a couple of years when I’d stopped by to visit her—after her son and his wife had moved out, and Justin wouldn’t be around.
When I first was a single mom, walking Arne around the neighborhood and stopping in for a cup of tea with her had been a break.
Mrs. Johnson had always been kind and never mentioned her grandson. She’d been lonely. And I was too.
I sent flowers to the service. I didn’t attend—it was private.
Not a surprise, with the media attention Justin was getting after hitting Alek Denbrowski at practice and breaking his hand.
I’d even gotten a call from a reporter asking me to comment on the story.
Every now and then someone dragged up our past and hoped I’d say something interesting. I never did.
Then Justin was gone again and I could relax, not needing to worry about running into him around a corner or seeing him in the grocery store.
I had no idea if he knew how my life had gone, but I certainly wasn’t in a rush to let him know I’d never gotten my degree, was divorced, a single mom and still living at home.
I’d have been surprised if he thought much about me, but I didn’t want to see him realize how lucky he was to have gotten away.
And that was enough self-pity. I’d been on day shifts this week, which meant I got to take Arne to his soccer game. Those were the big excitements of my life. A couple of hours of sitting on a chair, talking to Arne’s best friend’s mom, who was as close to a girlfriend as I had these days.
This morning I’d thrown together chili in the crockpot before I left so that we could eat and make it to the game. I told Arne to go and get his soccer stuff while I went in the kitchen to get something on the table for him.
The crockpot was almost empty. My family had helped themselves, leaving barely enough for Arne, but not enough for me. I took a few long breaths so that I didn’t scream or throw something.
Mom shuffled in with her walker. She saw me at the crockpot and a worried frown crossed her face. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s not enough food left here for anyone but Arne.”
She made a noise in her throat. “I told them to save you some.”
Lot of good that did. “Where are they?”
She winced. “Dorian went out. Bruce went to see his friends…” Which meant he’d gone to the bar. “I’m not sure where Cora is.”
“There should have been lots for everyone.”
“Dorian had friends over.”
And fed them the food I’d made for the family?
Arne rushed into the room, his soccer bag thumping behind him. “Hey, Grandma.”
I set the one serving of food remaining on the table in front of him while he gave her a hug. “Go ahead and eat. You need energy for your game.”
I tossed some cheese on top for him and made grilled cheese sandwiches for my mother and me.
“Thank you, Mia,” Mom said. The smile I gave in return was forced.
I filled the crockpot with soapy water to soak while I scarfed down my sandwich as quickly as I could.
“We need to go now, Arne.” I shoved his bowl and cutlery in the dishwasher. It was almost completely full, items thrown inside in no logical order. I put in a cleaning tablet and turned it on, hoping for the best.
Arne gave his grandmother a kiss and headed for the door.
“Your bag?” I reminded him.
“Oops! Sorry!” He picked it up and ran out.
“You’ll be okay?” I asked Mom.
“Yes, I’m fine. Go have fun with your friends.”
My friends, who I only saw at soccer games. It wasn’t like I could ask them to meet up for coffee during the day or have them over to our place. Chats at soccer games were all I could manage.
I buckled Arne into his seat and checked that my game supplies were ready. I had a folding lawn chair in the back of the car, with a couple of water bottles. I wasn’t on snack duty, fortunately. That was always a nightmare.
We parked in the lot, mostly empty since we were among the first to arrive.
We walked to field number three and I was able to settle on the sidelines while Arne ran over to his coach.
She’d arrived early to set out cones for warm-ups before the game.
She waved at me, and got Arne to help before letting him do some practice drills.
I enjoyed sitting on a chair, watching my son have fun while we waited for the rest of the team to show up.
Families arrived. Most of the kids had moms bringing them to the games, but there were some fathers present as well. The other team settled in across the field by custom. A couple of the kids had been on Arne’s team last summer, and we waved greetings across the field of battle.
Tonya and Barney arrived just in time. Barney and Arne had met at school and decided they were destined to be BFFs because their names rhymed. I appreciated that Barney was a great kid, and I got along well with his mother.
Tonya was toting a cooler, so she was snack mom for tonight’s game. I helped her get everything ready and she dropped into a chair beside me with a sigh.
“Thanks, Mia. I swear, if someone started a catering business just to provide snacks for kids playing soccer, they’d make a fortune from me.”
“It would definitely save a lot of stress.” I glanced around at the parents and considered the dietary stuff that came up at school. “Can you imagine what kind of orders you’d get? Vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free, organic, peanut-free…”
She grinned at me. “But you could charge a premium for slicing organic gluten-free oranges into quarters and selling them to desperate moms like us.”
She had a point. “Go for it. I’ll tell everyone at school about your business.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s bad enough doing it once a month. I don’t have the patience. I’d end up telling someone to fuck off and that would be the end of the business.”
A whistle blew and the kids lined up for the game. There were a range of heights among the kids. Arne was tall, thanks to Erik, but Barney only came up to his shoulder.
Six-year-olds weren’t top athletes. Unless Arne was on the field, I didn’t pay much attention to the game.
“I hear Barney is going to hockey camp this summer.”
Tonya shrugged. “In August. Brody hopes he’s got an NHL star in the making.”
Barney tripped over the ball and fell on his butt. Maybe he was better on skates. “You don’t want him to go?”
“I’m not looking forward to being a hockey mom to two kids with different schedules.
There’s going to be a lot of freezing at ice rinks all winter.
Brody says he’ll do it, but when he travels or has work commitments, I know who’s going to be stuck getting up at the ass crack of dawn to take them.
” Brody was Tonya’s husband and Barney’s dad.
Logistically, I could probably get Arne to a summer hockey camp, but a long-term hockey commitment wouldn’t be possible. Not when he only had me, and I had to work erratic shifts and help with Mom as well. “Barney’s excited enough that now Arne wants to go.”
Tonya shot me a glance. “You don’t sound very happy about the idea.”
I checked for Arne on the field, but he was still on the sidelines. “It’s expensive. And violent.”
“They don’t allow body contact at this age.”
I tapped my chest. “Health care worker here. I know what damage sports can do to a body. Soccer isn’t bad, but hockey is faster, involves sharp metal blades and rubber pucks, and is played on a very hard surface.”
Tonya lifted a hand. “And yet they love it.”
I slouched into my chair. “I can’t afford the equipment, and I don’t have the time to be a hockey mom when I’m raising him alone.”
Tonya quickly became serious. “Should I ask Barney to tone it down?”
I snorted. “Like that would work. I was just going to ask if the hockey camp was full. If it is, then the whole hockey issue is tabled for a while.”
Barney and Arne were on the field now, so Tonya and I cheered them on while they ran back and forth. Arne got a goal and I leapt to my feet, clapping and cheering. He was grinning ear to ear as they went back to the sidelines to let the next kids play.
Tonya opened the cooler to get the snacks ready since halftime was in about five minutes.
“I’m pretty sure the camps are all booked, but I can check. Or would you rather not know so you can tell him it’s too late without really lying?”
It was the easy way out, but I wanted to be honest with my son. “No, if there’s still the chance to sign up, I’ll deal with it. Maybe he’ll try it and decide he doesn’t like it.”
Tonya jerked her head at the field where Arne was back on and stripping the ball from another six-year-old. “Your choice, but I’d bet that a kid with that kind of coordination will love playing hockey.”
I huffed a breath. Tonya had a good point. Given half a chance, Arne would love just about any sport.
I was lucky, having a kid who was smart as well as athletic. He had a lot of options in his future. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be able to give him as many opportunities as someone like Tonya could.
The whistle blew for halftime, so I shoved those thoughts aside and braced for the impact of fifteen kids racing over for their water and healthy snacks.
I helped Tonya and she helped me when it was my turn.
Thanks to our kids getting along, she was a friend.
A mom friend. The kind who swapped playdates and talked at soccer games, but not the kind who knew where you were from and what your problems were.
Once the kids were sated and back to the game, Tonya threw everything in her Yeti cooler and relaxed. The worst was over.
“Just going to throw this out there,” she said. “You’re independent and self-reliant and I don’t want to take away from that. But we’ve got hockey gear that Barney’s brother grew out of and Barney doesn’t fit into yet, so if you did put Arne in a camp, you’re welcome to borrow it.”
My jaw dropped. I wasn’t sure if it was the generous offer or the independent description, but I didn’t know how to respond.
She lifted a hand, reading who knew what on my face. “That’s all I’ll say. It would get some stinky boy stuff out of my place for a bit, but it’s your call.” Then she looked back on the field and yelled encouragement to the team.
I turned as well, mind still mulling over her offer.
Before I could get into a worry spiral, Arne was playing again, and my job as a mom was to cheer him on.
He made a pass to Barney that Barney scored on, so Tonya and I high-fived and cheered.
Tonya didn’t say anything else, but I couldn’t forget what she’d said.
The boys’ team won, and they were in high spirits as they joined us after the handshakes were done. Arne had way too much energy for someone who’d been running around for most of an hour. I envied him that. The boys bid a sad farewell, though they’d see each other at school in the morning.
Arne skipped along beside me as we walked to the car. “I got a goal, and I got Barney a goal.”
“I saw that. You played really well.”
“Barney says hockey is better, and he’s gonna score lots of goals in hockey.”
How did I get him to move on from the hockey topic? “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
“Will I ever get to play hockey?” His voice was wistful, but it killed me.
I wanted to throw a temper tantrum, but instead I pulled on all my patience. “I’ll see if there are any openings in a camp this summer.” Arne’s eyes filled with stars. “But there probably aren’t. Maybe skating lessons this fall to start?”
His smile dropped but he nodded and didn’t complain. And my heart broke. Damn hockey.