Chapter 5 #3
“I’m not going to ask you what percentage that is because you’re being annoyingly smart. But it’s a tiny percentage, and most of those guys didn’t lose all their light perception while they were active players.”
Micah let out a soft breath. “None of them did, bud. You’re in a tough spot because it would mean learning a whole new method of playing. Half the accommodations for D-men are sight-based. I get it.”
I suppose he did, though he also didn’t because Micah and his brother had both been born without eyes, so they’d never understood what it was like to see at all.
But he did understand me in ways most people didn’t.
Like how it was to have a crappy family and all the ways the world liked to stand in our way.
“I just don’t know if I have it in me,” I went on. “My bones are old.”
“Your bone is old?”
“Fuck off, you know what I mean,” I snapped.
He burst into laughter. “Alright, bud. I get it. You’re not in the mood for jokes.”
I really wasn’t. I wanted to be, but everything felt like so much right now.
There was this pressing weight on my chest, like because I was part of the PPHL, I wasn’t allowed to mourn the loss I was experiencing with my vision.
Like I had to just embrace it and march in my little one-man blind pride parade because I would be shitting on the cause if I acted like this was a bad thing.
I also knew my friends would call me a dipshit for feeling that way, but considering how hard I’d fought Aravind on the concept of blindness being a spectrum, I wondered if I had the right to be sad about all of this.
Maybe my knee really was just an excuse.
“Do you love hockey?”
The question was so unexpected, I was struck silent for a long beat. “Uh…I mean. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because that was the question that made me realize I didn’t love hockey.
And while retiring was hard, I have no regrets,” he answered.
His voice was softer and kinder than usual.
“I don’t think a lot of people think to ask guys like us about whether we love it or not.
I think they expect us to be grateful we get to do it at all, you know? ”
God, that was so very real.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “I’m not even very good at it.”
“Tiago—”
“I’m not being self-deprecating. I’m okay. I’m decent enough to get good contracts. My stats have always been pretty stable. I wasn’t breaking records, but I don’t fuck up as badly as other guys. I’m not going to retire a hockey legend though, even if I do stick it out.”
“Okay, so the next question is, what will your life look like if you decide to give it up? And, when you have that answer, how will it make you feel?”
“I wish I had called your brother,” I muttered.
He laughed again. “Everyone always does. Listen, Vanya and I are going on vacation in a few days. We’re heading up to Toronto for a week, and then we’re doing a month in Portland.”
“Gonna go get weird?”
“I feel like my people are there,” Micah said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “You know you’re welcome to join us if you want to get away for a while. Vanya would be over the fucking moon if a few friends came along.”
I took a breath to make some joke about the trip being a fuck-cation, but then I realized that was a comment for the old Micah. And hell, maybe it was a fuck-cation for him and Vanya. But it wasn’t my business.
“I don’t want to intrude. Besides, I have a family thing coming up.”
“Uh. Your family?”
I usually didn’t talk much about my family, but unfortunately, I’d been drunk enough around my friends to spill some of the beans. “Yes, my family. It’ll be fine. It’s by the beach.”
“Well, if you need an escape, just call me, and I’ll let you know the closest airport to wherever we’re at. Vanya would be pissed if he found out you were in need and didn’t say anything. He loves you.”
“I’m glad your boyfriend loves me.”
“And I love you,” Micah said with a heavy, sarcastic sigh. “Also, he’s my fiancé.”
“You’re not getting married on this trip, right? You’re not eloping without your friends?”
“Never.” He went quiet again, then said, “I’m serious, Tiago.
I don’t understand what it’s like to lose sight, but I do understand what it is to sit in front of your career and realize that maybe you made the choice to play for a version of yourself that no longer exists.
It sucks, and it’s hard, and you don’t have to deal with it alone. ”
Crisse, he really was a good friend.
“I’ll call you,” I told him. I was lying, and he probably knew that, but he was kind enough to hum some kind of agreeing sound.
“I’ll talk to you soon, bud. I hope you get a nice tan at the beach.”
“And I hope you have fun getting weird in Portland.”
The call ended, and while I had a lot to think about and I still had no idea what to do with myself, I did feel better. I also had an escape because I knew that while Micah treasured his time with Vanya in the offseason, I also knew he meant what he said.
I was welcome. And he was family.
Which was a far cry from my own.