8. Soleil
SOLEIL
Dear Diary,
I met Dean Rafferty for the first first time twenty-two days ago.
He says he’s given me seventeen skating lessons.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve kissed him for the first time, but I kissed him many times today.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve dreamed about him, but I’ve written about it three times and sketched his face all three times.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve told him I love him, but I know I didn’t say it out loud to him today while we were together and I regretted it.
Because I felt it. And I had the sense that he felt it too.
But he still feels guilty about kissing me and we still haven’t had official sex yet.
According to him anyway. And I trust him.
I trust him implicitly. I think Dad does too.
That’s why I decided to make Dad dinner tonight.
His favorite lasagna, Mom’s recipe. The one I know by heart.
And I made lemon bars for dessert, using the Fluicer!
It’s not Digital Detox Week, but I still put his favorite Eagles record on and asked if he wanted to play Spades after we ate.
I could tell he thought something was up, but he went along with it anyway.
“How are the skating lessons going?” he asked as we cleared the table.
“Amazing,” I said dreamily. “I didn’t have to think about my feet at all when I was skating forward today.”
“That’s significant,” he said. “When you don’t have to think about the mechanics anymore.”
“Yeah! Something’s shifted, I think. We’ve been working on crossovers, according to the videos he showed me on his phone. And I can skate backward. Kind of hesitantly. But I can do it!”
“That’s damn impressive, honey. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks. I can’t wait to skate backward more. It’ll be great for my glutes!’
He cleared his throat. Poor guy didn’t want to hear about my glutes, but he really didn’t want to hear what I had to say next.
When we sat down with glasses of fresh orange juice and vodka in the living room, I said carefully, “I love skating the way you love something that you always knew on some level was meant to be a part of your life…”
He glanced over at me, his jaw tensing up.
“Same with some people.”
He grunted.
“I’m sure you felt that way about Mom when you first met her.”
“’Course I did.”
“That’s how I feel about Dean.”
“Today, you mean?”
“According to my journal entries and the videos I’ve made, it’s how I feel about him every day since the day I’ve met him.”
“You barely know him.”
“But Daddy, I love him.”
“You can’t possibly love him, Soleil. As far as your brain is concerned, you’ve only known him for one day.”
“But I’ve loved him all day. And my body feels very comfortable with him. And my soul feels connected to his. I don’t know how to explain it.”
He scrubbed his face with his palm. He always does that when he’s stressed about the team, and he did it all the time when Mom was sick. Poor guy. I’m sure this was the last thing he wanted to talk about with me, but it had to be said.
I got up and went to sit next to him on the sofa. “Mom would have liked him, you know.”
“I know,” he said, resigned. “I know. It’s not that I don’t like Dean Rafferty, honey. I know he’s a good guy. I see how much he cares about you. But he works for me.”
“I know.”
“Honey, it’s one thing to know this and another to understand.
Dean and I have to work together closely.
When the season starts up again we’ll be seeing each other almost every day, traveling with the team.
Spending a lot of time together in the same rink, the same meetings, the same film sessions.
He takes his job seriously. He has ambitions.
It’s off-season now, and I trust him enough to let him teach you how to skate. ”
I took his hand and said, “I know. It’s a lot for you, and I appreciate it.”
“But we can’t have that kind of complication between us when we start working together again daily. If there’s tension between me and my assistant coach, the players will sense it.”
“Then don’t have tension.”
“What if your relationship ends badly?” Dad asked.
“What if it never ends and it’s always wonderful?”
“He’s not going to quit the team, Soleil. I know he won’t.”
“Why would he have to?” I asked.
“Honey, I’m saying that if it comes down to choosing between his job and you, he’ll choose the job. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Then don’t make him choose.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut like I was giving him a migraine. “I don’t think you understand.”
“I understand that you think Dean cares about his hockey-coaching career more than he cares about me.”
“Yes.”
“And I know you’re wrong. I’m not saying he’d quit; I’m saying there doesn’t need to be a situation where he has to.
You and Dean just need to have a talk.” I pulled out my phone and opened my camera to get this on video.
“Dad. Say you’ll talk to Dean tomorrow—on April fifteenth.
When you drop me off at the rink tomorrow.
I’m going to email this to both of us. You and Dean just have a little chat, man to man, and work things out so none of us have to have this hanging over our heads anymore. Say you’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“All right. I’ll talk to him.”
I ended the video and attached it to an email. While I was sending it to both of us, I finally realized.
Oh.
Dad isn’t worried about the coaching dynamics of his assistant dating his daughter.
He’s worried that Dean isn’t going to want to keep dating me because I have brain damage.
And he might be right.
And if I love Dean as much as I do, then it would be selfish of me to date him and then put him in a situation where he just keeps dating me to be polite or because he’d feel guilty breaking up with me even if he got tired of dealing with my situation day after day.
And why should he deal with it? It’s one thing to teach me to skate every day for a month, but I don’t want him to feel stuck with me for the rest of his life or even for the rest of his contract with the Comets.
I burst into tears without saying any of that out loud, but my dad put his arm around me because he knew I’d figured it out.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, so quietly. “I wish things could be different.” Resting the side of his face against my head, he said, “I was thinking I could ask Kate Pogue if she’d teach you to skate. If we decide it’s a good idea for you to stop seeing Dean…”
Suddenly, it felt like my insides were made of icy slime. My heart felt seasick or something. I could barely breathe.
Because I knew he was right. He didn’t say it out loud, but I had to end things with Dean sooner rather than later.
I could start over with him tomorrow without feeling any sense of guilt about holding him back, but every single day he shows up for me will be more and more weight for him to carry.
I knew I have to end things tonight before I go to sleep tonight. Before I forget tomorrow.
I made a short video and sent it to him in a text.
I know ending things over text is considered shitty.
Especially when you love someone and they haven’t done anything wrong.
But I just wanted to make the video, send the video to him, and go to sleep as soon as possible so I could forget in the morning.
I’m going to burn everything. Trash all of the videos. And delete our text chain. Block him from my phone. So Dean can be set free.