Page 54 of Locke

“If you’re trying to figure out where I got familial love, I can save you time.The nanny was just a hired helper.There were a few over the years, but I never bonded with them.”

“Do you know why?”she asks hesitantly.

I stare at her, then tell her a truth about me she probably won’t like.I lean forward, elbows on my knees.“Look, Livia… I know you’re hoping to fix me, maybe by bringing me to emotional awareness, but I need you to know… I’m pretty self-aware.I can tell you exactly the reason I didn’t bond with the nannies, and it’s because I didn’t want to be let down by them the way I was with my parents.I wouldn’t allow myself to get close to them.That way, when they inevitably left, like they all do for better money or work conditions, I wouldn’t feel sad.And I didn’t.Never felt sad about a single one who walked out the door.”

Her eyes are wide, and I can tell by looking at her this was a level of honesty she wasn’t anticipating.“I can’t even imagine,” she whispers.“And… at the risk of sounding very unprofessional… your parents ought to have their asses kicked.They totally don’t have any business being parents.”

I’m so stunned by her vehement advocacy for my childhood that I bark out a laugh, which winds down into quick chuckles.“You’re probably right.”

She gives me a sheepish smile but then tilts her head as a new question takes up residence.“Surely you had adult figures you could count on?You played hockey, obviously.”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod.“I had some good coaches in my formative years.A middle school science teacher I could talk to.”

“But did you remain close to them?”she asks.

“No, not really.

She holds my gaze, then looks back at her notepad.“When did hockey start?”

My chest tightens, just slightly.“Eight.My father’s idea initially—it was the right sport for a boy in my family.Traditional.Physical.He came to exactly one game.”

“And your mother?”

“Never.”

The word sits there, harshly reverberating.

Livia doesn’t rush to fill the silence and I’m grateful for that because I need a second to reorganize all the emotions that her questions keep dislodging.

“But you loved it,” she says finally.It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I think about how to answer honestly without giving her more than she’s owed under this arrangement.“Because when I was on the ice, nothing else existed.Whatever was happening at home, whatever was missing… none of it followed me onto the ice.”I look at her directly.“It was the one place I didn’t have to be anything except what I actually was.”

Livia goes very still considering that.

“You played Major Junior,” she says.“What about the billet families you lived with?You mentioned them at Thanksgiving.”

I go slightly still because she’s straying.

“What about them?”

“You were placed with a family to live.”She keeps her voice neutral.“For a kid who grew up the way you did, that must have been a significant adjustment.”

“It was fine.”

“Did you bond with any of them?”

“I mean… I respected them.I got along fine with them.Do I still keep in contact with any of them?Sure.Like I’ll get Christmas cards or the occasional email.”

“But you must’ve gotten a glimpse of a different type of family unit than what you came from.To my way of thinking, billet families do what they do to offer their family unit to make boys living away from home feel safe and secure.”

“And there’s a stipend, don’t forget,” I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me.“You know what I mean.What was it like seeing a different type of family than the one you had?And I use the wordfamilyloosely in that respect.”