38
SYLAS
As far back as I can remember, ever since I’ve played hockey, there’s been an insurmountable weight of anxiety chained around my throat.
The pressure of being perfect, of not making any mistakes, of knowing what would happen if I lost, was overwhelming to say the least.
When Anna came into my life, the nerves were less but they were still there. But now, I don’t feel them. I anticipated for it to come unwelcome like it usually does, but as I ate my sandwich and watched The Punisher with my family, got to the locker room and changed, it never arrived.
And as I stand on the ice, left of Marc, waiting for the puck to be dropped, for Matias and the opposing player to face off, I feel nothing but at ease.
Anna may not be here, but after seeing her earlier today and getting the four-leaf clover from Rosie, I feel good—no, I feel better than good.
But I know this also has a lot to do with knowing there are no more expectations or punishments from my father.
The latter hasn’t happened in a while, but nonetheless I feel relieved.
And knowing he’s not here, that he doesn’t care, makes me feel good.
“Ready?” Marc says loudly over the cheering of the crowd. His grin is wide, I know mine is mirroring his.
I’m nodding, getting in position just as Callan, who stands behind me, says, “Let’s see if you were worth getting.”
“Are you just forgetting about the preseason games?” Joey asks amused, standing opposite of him.
“Ehh.” He shrugs, getting in position. “This is the first regular game of the season. He—”
“Focus!” Matias tells him.
“Focus.” I smirk at Callan.
And then it’s not long before the game starts, Matias wins the face-off and the game officially starts.
I haven’t experienced a post-game high like this in a while. Usually after interviews and following the recovery treatment, it subsides, but I’m still feeling it. It runs deep through my veins, wraps around my bones, and rushes to my brain.
“You sure you don’t want to come out?” Marc asks as we walk side by side out of the locker room.
The guys follow behind us, asking the same questions. They have since the game ended. Everyone wants to celebrate. I do too, but not with them.
“Come on.” Joey tugs on my arm. “We won’t even be out that late.”
“No, I have a kid and—”
Callan speaks over me. “Some of the other guys on the team have kids and they’re still going out.”
“Leave him alone.” Matias slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me away from Joey’s hold. “Don’t listen to them. I’m not going out either.”
“You’re not?” Callan groans, exasperated. “I thought you said you were.”
“No, you like to pretend that’s what I said,” Matias answers, like this is something that occurs often. “You know, the first game of the season, win or lose, I go home to Abby.”
“Bring her along,” Joey insists.
Some of the guys listening all agree, but Matias shakes his head.
“No, stop asking me. I’m not going to change my mind, and we already have plans. And if any of you dumbasses asks me what kind of plans, I swear to fuck I’m going to fight you,” he warns.
“Okay, fine, you have your reason, but what’s your excuse?” Callan questions me.
“His baby momma,” Marc interjects. “She lives with him.”
All their attention is fixed on me. I know they’re curious to know what’s going on just like some people online are. But before they ask me anything, two familiar voices stop them.
I’m not sure where my parents came from, but they appear out of nowhere. I wasn’t aware they were here.
“Sylas, hi, darling.” Mom embraces me in a hug, kissing my cheek affectionately like she does when people are around.
I’m stiff, unable to do anything but stare at her and Dad.
The guys talk to them, shaking hands and smiling at them, unaware of the tension between the three of us. The only one who notices is Marc. Like me, he’s rigid, unable to look at them the same.
Once the guys have said goodbye, they all leave except for my best friend, until I tell him that it’s fine. I appreciate him, but I know they’ll pretend like nothing has happened if he’s here. They won’t talk in front of him. So with one last look at me, he leaves.
“Well, it’s about time you started acting like a Lenoir,” my father boasts, but in the same breath he sounds indifferent. “I was wrong for assuming coming here would be a waste.”
Rage and resentment consume me, killing my high and veiling my happiness with fury.
“You can’t be serious,” I seethe, balling up my fists at my sides.
Mom places a hand on my shoulder, smiling at me so delicately as if nothing ever happened. It makes me feel nauseous. I have to shake her off, otherwise I’ll lose it.
“Sweetheart,” Mom huffs out. “You have to understand, we were only doing what was best for you. You should thank us.” She glances around. “And we should speak about this in private.”
“What’s best for me?” My hands tremble. I think the rest of my body shakes, but I’m not sure.
“You threatened Anna. I missed out on my daughter’s birth.
You took that away from me.” I raise my voice.
“I missed out on so many things because of you! You.” I lock eyes with Mom and she flinches.
“Not even a month ago you were on my case about having kids and all this time I had one. But you denied her. As if she wasn’t—”
“Calm down.” Dad speaks in a quiet voice, staring at me like he’s embarrassed by me. “You’re making a scene.”
I’m doing my best to quiet the voice in my head that insists I hit him.
“A scene? What, you’re worried someone will find out that the great Dean Lenoir and Clara Alves are pieces of shit? You took so much away from me. I—”
“Listen here.” He grabs me by the collar, leveling me with his piercing, angry stare. “You ungrateful—”
I push him hard and away from me, and he stumbles back but catches his footing. “You don’t get to do that shit to me anymore. Touch me again and I swear—”
Dad scoffs. “Remember who gave it all to you. You’d be nothing without me. You’re only as good as you are because of me.” He sweeps his eyes over me as if I’m a nobody and not his son. “What, you going to hit me, Sylas? You’re really going to hit your father? Do it. Show me how weak you still are.”
I choke on the ball that’s lodged in my throat. My vision swims, and my ears ring.
“We did what we needed to do so you’d get your life together, and we don’t regret it. We’d do it again because we love you,” Mom says apathetically.
Think of Rosie and Anna. Breathe in and out. You can’t go to jail. Despite thinking that, I can’t stop the words that leave my mouth. “Am I weak, or are you just pathetic? And you don’t love me, you hate me. Stay the fuck away from us.”
“Sylas,” Mom pleads, her voice filled with urgency. “You have to understand. A kid was going to ruin your life.”
“No. You two did that.” I scoff a laugh. “And she’s not just a kid; she’s your granddaughter. Actually, it’s best if we don’t call her that. She’s nothing to you, like I’m nothing to you.”
I go to walk away, knowing if I don’t, I’ll actually hit him, but he grabs my wrist, yanking me back. From the corner of my eye, I catch his fisted hand.
“What are you going to do? Hit me? Come on, do it,” I taunt him and when he doesn’t, I jerk my hand away. “I’m not twenty-one anymore. Fuck you.”
My knuckles stay suspended in the air, an inch away from Anna’s bedroom door. Every time I think about knocking, I remember my conversation with my parents.
I want nothing more than to see her, but I’m not in the right headspace to talk to her. I don’t know what I’m still doing here.
I’m turning just as the door swings open.
“Leaving already?” she says in a quiet voice as she shuts it behind her.
I plaster a smile on my face and pivot to look at her, but once our eyes lock, she sees right through it. Any trace of playfulness is gone.
“What’s wrong?” She’s standing in front me, inspecting my face and body.
My first instinct is to lie to her. I don’t want her to worry, or make my burdens her problem. She’s already dealt with enough.
The lie sits at the tip of my tongue, but as I take her in and note the concern etched on her face, I know I need to be honest. I want to protect her, but I don’t want to lose her again.
“I saw my parents.” My temples throb as I think about what they said. They’ve never been good parents, but knowing they have no remorse, knowing they’d do it again if it meant I wouldn’t be with Anna, makes me feel sick.
She lays her palm on top of my fisted hand. It’s so small compared to mine, but it makes me feel safe and calms the chaos in my head.
“I know you’re tired and you probably want to go to bed, so if you want to say no, I’ll understand.” She rubs the pad of her thumb over my hand. “But I want to take you somewhere.”
Her proximity soothes me, relieving the ache in my chest and dulling the pounding in my head. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”