Chapter Forty-Five
Overdue - Wyatt
As soon as I’m alone in my Jeep, I pick up the phone.
I tap it against my forehead for a minute, gathering my thoughts.
Reminding myself no matter how Dad reacts, I need to stay calm.
This is a conversation that is years overdue.
Maybe tonight is the introduction of the topic, and then we can have the real conversation face-to-face on Friday.
About my life and dream belonging to me.
I pull up his contact and hit the call icon. One ring. Two rings. I try to push down the anxiety that is growing with each unanswered ring.
“Wyatt!” Dad says cheerfully. “I was just talking about you. Are your ears burning?”
“Oh?” I ask.
“Just telling a client today I have a son headed to the NHL,” he says proudly.
I wince. My dad owns a big architecture firm in Tucson and is always present to close deals with high-end clients. And he loves nothing more than telling them about his son at OCU who is a lock to get drafted this year.
“Dad. You’ve got to stop saying that. It’s not a guarantee.”
“No, no, you’re wrong. I know it. You’ve steadily improved every year, and you are at the top of your game now. It’s a certainty.”
I try to steady myself as I feel the pressure begin to build inside me. The weight of his words is so heavy, it feels like an anchor dragging me down below the surface.
I have to free myself from it. I have to fight to the surface and say what I need to say.
“Dad, I have a few things I want to tell you,” I begin, staring out at the parking lot.
I watch a little girl in an ice-skating costume pass by, all smiles as she holds her mom’s hand, her black ponytail swinging in the breeze.
I smile, thinking how happy I used to be to go to the rink when I was her age.
How I still am, but the dream and the career ahead of me need to be mine. “All good things.”
“Then I’m all ears.”
“Coach called me into his office today. I’m going to be an alternate captain this season.”
“Wyatt! That’s awesome, son!” Dad shouts, and I can hear both pride and pleasure in his voice. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve busted your ass, you’ve taken hockey seriously, and it’s all coming together for a phenomenal season.”
“I plan to do my best,” I say.
“You will. I have no doubt. The draft is on the line now. This is the year you’ve been waiting for. You won’t mess this up.”
Right.
“I also have something else to tell you. One of the reasons why Coach gave me the A. There are rumors kicking around campus that the athletic department might eliminate half the teams here due to budget issues. And I don’t feel like that’s right, when hockey has a brand-new luxury facility with a cold-plunge pool with top-of-the-line flat-screen TVs surrounding it. ”
Dad is quiet for a moment. I can practically see the expression on his face. Wondering why I care about this because it’s not impacting my program.
“Wyatt. What are you talking about? Hockey has the best facilities because you are one of the top teams in the nation, and the best team out west. You earn money. Who cares what other piddly sports are shut down?”
“As a matter of fact, Dad? I do care. So much so that I’m organizing a movement called Twenty Together, where all the sports teams work together so we can all stay at OCU.”
Silence. I wait. It feels like hours are passing by instead of seconds.
Finally, he speaks. “Son. I understand you having compassion for these athletes, but this is not the time to worry about anything else but hockey. This is not only a distraction, but something that will suck up way too much of your time, and it’s really none of your business.”
“Well, I’m making it my business because it’s not right. Luca is onboard, and so are the football team, the basketball team, and the baseball team. Everyone is pissed.”
“I really don’t understand why you guys care if something like rowing gets canceled.”
Because we’re not assholes, I think.
“Well, Coach was impressed with my leadership on it and said it only justified his decision to put the A on my chest.”
Again, silence.
“I will manage it,” I say firmly.
“Well, you better make sure you do. Twenty Together isn’t going to help do anything to get you drafted, Wyatt.”
I clench my teeth. Every. Single. Thing. Is. About. Hockey.
EVERY FUCKING THING.
I’m so over it.
But I remind myself I have to drop another bomb still, and I need to be composed so I can handle this part of the conversation.
“There’s something else I want to tell you. When you guys come in on Friday, I have someone I want you to meet after the game.”
“Oh?”
“Her name is Grace,” I say. Then I rip the Band-Aid straight off. “And she’s my girlfriend.”
The line sounds like it has gone dead, it’s so silent. I can hear cars moving around the parking lot, muffled voices, but I hear absolutely nothing from my dad.
I swallow hard, waiting for his response.
It doesn’t come.
“Hello? Dad?” I finally ask. “Are you still there?”
“What are you doing?” he cries, his voice rising with both alarm and exasperation. “You’re becoming an activist? Deciding to get messed up with a girl during the most important season you’ll have in your college career? Didn’t I warn you about this? Why not just make her a fuck buddy?”
“Don’t,” I say, with barely controlled anger, “you ever suggest that about Grace again.”
“Wyatt. You do not need these complications. Relationships come with drama and baggage, and odds are she’s just hoping to snag a future NHL player,” Dad says, his tone filled with disgust.
I’m pissed. So pissed. But I can’t lose it now. I take a beat, then clear my throat. “Grace is an artistic swimmer. She’s a college athlete, she knows what it’s like and the time commitment, and she would never ever ask me to change that for her.”
Dad is quiet again before speaking. “Is her program on the chopping block? Is that why you’re suddenly interested in defending sports programs?”
“I became aware of it because of Grace,” I say. “But I care about the other OCU athletes. And if you’re telling me I needed weights with shark logos on the end or custom display cases for old uniforms, I don’t. There is money to be found for these programs. Or fundraising—”
“And you’re doing it for a girl. Oh my God, you’re going to throw everything away!”
“Dad. Grace is not just a girl. She’s my girlfriend. I’ve been seeing her for a month. My play is the best it’s ever been and I’m the alternate captain. I’m better since I’ve met Grace! The stats don’t lie, do they?”
I’ve got him with that one. He lives and breathes any data he can acquire on me.
“It’s in that stupid new stage,” he snaps, ignoring my logic. “What happens when it gets old? When she becomes demanding and nags and wants more time with you? What happens then? When you start to fight and the sex gets boring—”
“Do not,” I interrupt angrily, “talk about us like you know us. Like you know me with her. Because you don’t.”
A heavy pause fills the air.
“I’m going to ask Grace to go to dinner with us after the game. I’m telling you about her now so you can wrap your head around this before you meet her. She’s amazing, Dad. If you could keep your mind open, I know you’d really like her.”
“I’m sure she’s fantastic, but the right girl at the wrong time is still the wrong girl, Wyatt.”
“Hard no. You’re wrong.”
Dad lets out a groan. “You are thinking with the wrong head!”
“If you drag sex into this conversation one more time I’m ending the call,” I threaten.
Silence.
Now it’s time to drop my final bomb. I take a second to think about what I want to say, because I need to get this right. I take a breath. Exhale slowly. Then I say it.
“I also want to talk to you about something else when you’re here. It’s an overdue conversation, Dad.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” he says sarcastically.
I ignore him. “When you are here,” I continue, as if he didn’t just make that comment, “I want to talk about your involvement in my hockey life. Because things can’t stay the way they are.”
“What?” Dad gasps. “What crap has this Grace put into your h—”
“No, Dad,” I interject, my voice loud and strong, “Grace has nothing to do with this. This is about me. Me finally having the courage to have the conversation that we need to have.”
“Conversation? About what?”
“About me,” I say. “About my life. Things are changing, Dad. Starting Friday night.”