Page 39 of Clever Eli
“Call if you have any news,” Dad says softly then takes the phone from my hand and ends the call. Through the tears I see him pocket my phone and then he’s hugging me.
It’s been two years since I grew just half an inch taller than him, and a few more since my shoulders have been as wide as his. Dad’s a giant of a man, and he’s always been larger than life, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt smaller than I do right now.
With him holding me like he’s willing all the pieces of me to stay together, when he’s still vibrating with rage.
I know that I’ll feel like a failure later, like a loser for running straight to Dad’s arms when the going got tough, but right now I don’t have the energy.
I let him hold me tight enough that I don’t break into a million unrecognizable pieces.
9
Lex
“Why are you putting on the game?” I ask Dad, hours later.
“I want to see them make fools of themselves,” he grumbles.
Ally shifts on the corner of the couch opposite mine and smiles tenderly at him like he doesn’t have steam coming out of his ears.
“Here you go,” Corinne, Dad’s chef, announces. She walks into the living room with a huge tray that’s stacked with so many plates I can’t make out any of it.
I go to stand to help her but Dad’s there before I can.
“Thank you, Corinne,” he says and focuses on not dropping anything as he sets the tray on the coffee table. Ally and I chorus him, and Corinne pats my shoulder and then my head before walking back to the kitchen.
“They’re going to lose to a supposedly lesser Vancouver team, and I want to enjoy my first time rooting against the Empire. It’s an important day for me, you know.”
His gentle smile is yet another thing that threatens to break me, but I dig the nail of my thumb into my index finger to keep my shit together and nod back at him.
As if what he just said doesn’t mean more to me than I can express. As if he hasn’t proved to me, yet again, that he’s not only the best father in the world but also one of the best and most protective, loyal humans I’ve ever met.
I’ve always admired him, but I think today I can finally let myself admit that I want to be like him when I grow up.
“I love you, Papa,” I whisper, my voice still lacking strength, but I guess it means more like this, doesn’t it? Using the name I called him when I was little, letting him see me as the kid I still feel like most of the time.
“I love you too, little king,” he whispers and sits between me and Ally. “I’m gonna call Paul.” The truly unhinged glint in his eyes makes me realize what an idiot I was for not telling Dad before I broke down.
The call is long enough that they’re still on the phone when the first period of the game is halfway over. Of course, now they’re dissecting every play, and I’m impressed with how they’re mocking my teammates, but I also know it’s going to take a while for it to sink in for both of them.
They’ve been loyal to the team they made legendary for over four decades, and that can’t just disappear overnight, right?
I don’t know how hard it’ll hit them eventually, but Uncle Paul definitely sounds less animalistic than Dad when he says goodbye.
“Call me if you need anything, Alexei.” Ridiculously, the use of my first name also chokes me up. I don’t remember the last time my godfather called me Alexei. I’ve been Lex to everyone I call family for my whole life.
“Thanks, Uncle Paul, I will.”
“Good.” I can picture his decisive nod perfectly.
Dad puts his phone away then looks at me with a less manic smile on his face.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what team you want to go to?”
December 15th
After two days spent with Dad sharing his strength with me and Ally pampering me, I have a new goal when I walk into the practice rink.
I want to act and feel like I did when I was in juniors, like I did when I got drafted first overall. I’m not expecting it to be easy, and after getting over the shock of Dad of all people telling me I should seriously think about getting a therapist, I know I’ll need help getting back to that place where I was confident in my game, and when hockey didn’t equal dread.
