CHAPTER SIX
SAM
I pull another stack of T-shirts out from the chest of drawers, folding them haphazardly and throwing them into my duffel bag. My mom would cringe at my packing job. I pause to look around my bedroom, making a mental list of things I don’t want to forget. I head into the closet to grab some shoes.
I took my last final this morning in Econ. I think I did well enough to skate by. I’ve never been motivated to excel in classes. But I’ve always done just enough to secure my spot on the ice. It’s not that I’m dumb or incapable of being at the top of the class. I just don’t find school interesting. Hockey—that’s my main priority. It has been since junior league, when the coaches started to focus on my talent and put dreams in my head of playing in the pros. My priorities shifted then and haven’t changed since.
I glance around at the bedroom where I spent my first year of college. Freshman year is now officially finished, though I never felt like a first-year student. I can thank the hockey team for that. I had an instant group of friends—brothers—as soon as I stepped foot on campus. We played together and partied together. I was accepted from the beginning, lauded even, across the university. It was an easy transition for me from high school. I got to play the sport I loved, and I was celebrated for it.
Mike steps into the room, leaning against the doorframe as he watches me shuffle around the space. We’re the only two at home right now. “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
He scoffs. “I can see that. Where are you going?”
I haven’t told Mike about my plans for this summer. In fact, I haven’t told him much of anything lately. I never filled Chase in either, though both are my roommates. Chase and I are still barely speaking. If we weren’t teammates, I’d turn my back on him for good. But we are on the same team, and he does live in the house where I rent a room, so we’ll both have to get over it. Even so, it’s going to take time for the sting of betrayal to ease from my bones. Every time I see Oakley and him together, I’m reminded of what went down between the three of us. It still hurts, though the ache is lessening every day.
Mike, Chase, and I have already secured this house for the summer and next year, and I’ll pay my part. Maybe it’s a mistake to live with Chase again next year, but I like this place, and I like living with Mike. I enjoyed living with Chase, too, until everything went down between us. But I shouldn’t have to move because my old friend stabbed me in the back. He should be the one who’s uncomfortable in this situation, not me.
“Camp,” I answer Mike’s question.
I was invited to attend an exclusive hockey camp for the summer a few months ago. I accepted right after hearing about my mom’s cancer diagnosis. It seemed like the right thing to do. Get as far away from this place as I can for a few months. Focus on the one thing I’m still sure about. Hockey.
I can tell that my one-worded answers are annoying Mike.
His brow furrows as he crosses his arms. “Camp? Since when?”
“A few weeks ago.” I shrug, shoving some socks into the corner of my bag.
“Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
I glance over at him with irritated amusement. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to clear it with you first, Mom.” I start packing again. “If you’re worried about my portion of the rent, don’t be. I’ll pay my third. And I don’t want anyone staying in my room while I’m gone.”
“I didn’t know you were leaving until about two seconds ago, so I haven’t had time to find someone to crash in your room,” he grunts. “I just thought you’d be around …”
“Ahh, are you gonna miss me, Mikey?”
He flashes his middle finger, and I chuckle.
“Is this because of Chase?” he asks after a beat. “He isn’t going to be around much. He’s heading back to the city for some construction job and crashing with his parents. He’ll be here a few weekends at most.”
He doesn’t add that Chase will be spending all his free time with Oakley, but I know that’s the case. They’re connected at the hip these days. He’s probably with her right now.
“It’s not because of Chase,” I answer, and it’s partially true. Though, I must admit, it’s a bonus, not having to see him or my ex-girlfriend for the next eight weeks. I think we all need a cooling-off period. “I want to focus on hockey. I need to if I want to get called up next year. This is one of the best camps in the nation.”
Mike asks more questions, so I give him some of the details. I’m headed to Massachusetts. I’ll stay in the sports dormitory on the campus of Boston U with a bunch of other guys who are also attending. We’ll play hockey during the day, honing our skills, working with some of the best coaches in the country. And we’ll likely party at night, hitting up the bars in the area, putting my fake id to good use, and taking advantage of all the big city has to offer.
“That sounds awesome,” Mike admits.
“It will be,” I say while zipping up my bags.
“Are you leaving right now?” he asks, grabbing some of my stuff to help me load the car.
“Yep.”
“Can you stay for one more night? Ollie and some of the guys are planning to get together to celebrate the end of classes. We’re going to Cheerz later.”
Ollie. Oakley’s brother. Chase’s best friend. Which means they’ll likely be there too. No thanks.
“I can’t. I’ve got to get going. My flight leaves in the morning. I’m flying out of the city, and I need to see my parents before I go.”
It’s not a lie. The nearest major airport hub is located in the city where I grew up. And I want to check on my mom before I leave. Lay eyes on her. See if things are going fine, the way she always assures me they are on the phone. I haven’t been around much. I’ve blamed it on school and offseason commitments. But really, I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing her in person. I’m still not sure.
“Well, it won’t be the same without you around here,” Mike says as we walk out the front door and toss my stuff into the back seat.
“I know.”
Mike smirks.
“I’ll be back in a couple of months. You won’t even know I’m gone.”
We clasp hands and do that side-hug thing guys do.
“Have fun.” He taps the hood of the car twice as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Bring back stories of all the women you met and conquered.”
“Now that,” I yell out the window, “I will do.”
He laughs. I start the engine and shift into reverse, pulling away from the home I’ve lived in since last August. The past year fades into the distance as I drive out of town.
I listen to music to occupy my mind, and the two-hour trip passes quickly. Both of my parents’ vehicles are in the driveway when I reach my childhood home. I stare at the front of the house for a few seconds. The more I’m away, the less this place feels like home. I shift the car into park and grab the smaller bag that I packed for overnight.
The house is quiet when I enter. I stow my belongings away in my bedroom and walk down the hall to my parents’ room. The door to their room is open, and when I glance inside, my mom is lying on her side with her eyes closed. I watch her, trying to memorize the way she looks in this moment. She’s so peaceful, lying there. Her chest rises and falls with each breath. My gut wrenches when I see the cloth covering her head where her hair used to be. Hair that was the same color and texture as mine. She told me she was losing it, but nothing could have prepared me for the way I feel, seeing it. Watching someone you love so much hurting, especially when you’re powerless to do anything to help, is a special kind of torture. I quietly walk away so I don’t wake her.
The kitchen is a mess when I enter. It shocks me for a moment, knowing how much my mom always kept the space spotless. Without really thinking, I start filling the sink with hot water and suds to wash the pots and pans left out. I wrap and store food in the refrigerator. I load everything else in the dishwasher and start it. I’m cleaning the last countertop when I hear the low murmur of a motor out back.
I glance out the window to see my dad pushing the mower. I wonder where he’s been all this time. In the past, the few times he was upset about something, he’d end up in the shed out back with all his tools and equipment, creating a piece of furniture, restoring something, or working in the yard. I’m guessing he’s been out there a lot since Mom was diagnosed.
I stop in my room and change into an old T-shirt and shorts before exiting the back door. My dad doesn’t see me at first. When our eyes do meet, he frowns, which isn’t the reaction I was hoping for. I didn’t tell either of my parents that I was coming home tonight. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I would make it home. But in the end, I couldn’t leave for the entire summer without making an appearance. I was hoping they’d be excited to see me.
The mower engine sputters and dies.
“Hey, Dad,” I say.
“Sam,” he replies in a steely tone. “What are you doing here?”
“I came home to see Mom before I fly out in the morning.”
He nods slowly once and then twice. He spits into the grass, and it pulls my focus to the bulge beneath his lower lip.
“You’re dipping again?” I ask. I sound accusatory, but I don’t mean to. I’m just surprised.
My dad started chewing tobacco about ten years ago. He told me once he liked the buzz it gave him, but that it was relaxing at the same time. He made me promise never to develop the habit. Mom made him quit two years ago, and as far as I know, he hasn’t touched the stuff since. Until now. I can’t believe he started again, especially under the circumstances.
“Not really,” he answers stoically.
I know better than to challenge him right now. He looks ready for a fight. And I seem to be the prime target.
“I’m surprised you graced us with your presence. What time is your flight out tomorrow?”
I ignore the jab. “Six a.m.”
He scoffs out a mirthless laugh and looks away. He glances at the watch he still wears on his wrist. It should be somewhere around six p.m. right now. “Wow. Twelve whole hours.”
“I had my last final today,” I explain. But when my eyes meet his, I look away, unable to stomach the hard glint I see. The accusation.
“What about all the other weekends you could’ve come home and didn’t? And don’t tell me it’s because of school. We all know you’re a mediocre student at best. And don’t blame hockey. It’s offseason. Your coaches would have understood if you had to miss a few things.”
I look at the ground because I know he’s right. But how do you tell the toughest guy you know that you couldn’t stomach seeing the sickness eating your mom alive? That you weren’t strong enough. I can’t say the words even though we both know they’re true.
“She needs you,” he grits out.
I can hear the emotion permeating his words, but my attention is still on my feet.
“Your mother …” He pauses when his voice breaks. “You’re everything to her. Her entire world. And she needs you now. She’s stepped up for you, put herself second to always put you first. Carting you to practice and games. Sitting in the stands night after night. Teaching gigs in the summertime so we could afford your hockey leagues. It’s time for you to stop being selfish and be there for her for once.”
I finally look up, but I still don’t like what I see. He forces me to maintain our connection.
“She deserves more than a few phone calls here and there when you find the time.”
His face is red, like he’s trying to maintain control but losing the battle. He removes the tobacco from his mouth and throws it into the mulch before stalking past me. His shoulder knocks into me as he passes to solidify his point that I’m far from Son of the Year right now.
“And don’t tell your mom about the dip.”
I nod but remain silent. The door shuts behind me. I stand there for a few minutes before I pull myself out of the haze. I walk over and crank the mower to finish the job my dad started. Maybe it’s part of my penance for making a bad situation at home worse. Or maybe nothing I do can make things better.
Mom is beyond thrilled that I surprised them with a visit when she wakes. Both Dad and I put smiles on our faces when we eat dinner together as a family later that night and act like our conversation earlier never happened. We dote on her this time, ordering her favorite food, setting the table, and cleaning up afterward. She pretends she isn’t exhausted and that her bones don’t ache. I pretend that she hasn’t lost fifteen more pounds that she never needed to lose. She talks about how pale she looks. I lie and say she’s never glowed brighter, just to bring a smile to her face.
I spend the evening on the couch with my mom while my dad disappears into his shop. I’m not sure if he leaves so we can have time alone together or if he can’t stand the sight of me right now. Mom and I talk about school and camp and life. I ask about her treatments, but she says she doesn’t want to talk about it. She’d rather hear about me. Her entire focus is on me, like usual. And I realize that my dad is right. Our family has always revolved around me. What I wanted. What I needed. I’ve taken it and them for granted all these years. And when it was time for me to step up, I disappeared. Just like I’m about to vanish again. Mom doesn’t hold it against me, but she should.
Mom rises early to see me off in the morning. My dad stays in bed. She kisses my cheek, hugs me tightly, and leaves me with a reassuring smile, always trying to make me feel better, like I’m the one going through cancer treatments. Then, she goes back to her room to rest. And I leave in a rideshare that transports me to the airport, where I board a plane that takes me miles away for the summer, where I won’t be around to support her. Where I won’t be around at all.