Page 16 of He Has Trouble (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
I’d come to think of Toronto as home, my teammates my friends even if they weren’t like family, not like the Rizzos had been.
Maybe the Rizzos still were family. Maybe they;d always been my family, even if they were unofficial, and I was a fool for questioning whether I’d belonged, for throwing them away. A fool for too many things to count. The thing about recognizing mistakes was that it wasn’t enough. I had to be prepared not to make the same mistakes twice. No matter how scary and hard it was not to fall into old habits of self-preservation.
I couldn’t let my family go again. Couldn’t let Angela go again. Couldn’t allow myself to be that much a fool, no matter if I deserved them or not, no matter how much fear and pain I’d have to face to keep them.
Fuck. The gnawing pit in my stomach ate at me, threatened to destroy me as it reached up and bit down on my soul. I sat at the kitchen table, either unwilling or incapable of moving for I didn’t know how long. Until Eddie came through the back door to get me. To save me from myself.
He stood, hands on his hips wearing a Toronto Blades jersey with my number on it, his eyes boring into mine, mocking me. The smile came from somewhere in me I hadn’t heard from in too long. Some well of friendship, camaraderie, the kind formed in youth while we were still soft, being formed. It rose up again fresh, as if it had never been buried in the shit of life’s misery.
“What the hell, Mackenzie? You’re not drinking that shit are you.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the sorry row of discount whiskey bottles. I shook my head.
“They’re all yours. Knock yourself out. Courtesy of old man Mack. Consider it your inheritance.”
He snorted. “Self-pity much?” He pulled up a chair. “I’m relieving my sister of consolation duty before she sinks too deep into depression with you.”
“Fuck you. Your sister and I are fine.” Lie. I had no idea if we were fine. I certainly wasn’tfine.
“I’m not taking your word for it.”
“What are you going to ask me next? What my intentions are toward your sister?”
“I know what your intentions are. Better than you do,” he said. I laughed. Because it was probably true.
“Don’t tell me. I’m working hard at keeping it under wraps.” My chest tightened as my vulnerable innards tried fighting through, leaping up in my throat, forcing me to swallow the longing, the pain and relief, the fear and hope. Eddie shook his head, sad, as if to tell me how pathetic I was because he could see right through me. Always could because he was coming from a place of cocooned plenty, love and belonging, endless good and giving. His family was as legendary for being perfect as mine was for being messed up.
He was legendary for his affable decency and the perfect foil for my mean sarcasm, slashing banter and carelessness. I was the bad boy to his good guy and we’d been best friends since we were five and Angela was four.
“So what are you doing here, Eddie? You still living at home?” He smiled at my dig, knowing his home was my Achilles heel.
“Nah. Here for the holidays. You know that, you schmuck.”
“I’m being traded,” I said, needing to disarm his disarming good nature.
His face fell, like I’d planned, so did my heart, tumbled around, sunk to my gut, nearly making me sick.
“It’s okay though,” I said before he tried to put a spin on it like I knew he would. “Ask me where I’m getting traded to?
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a tough sell—at the holidays. Losing your dad.” His voice was extreme in understanding, everything mine couldn’t be when I most wanted to.
“Not so tough. I’m going to the Boston Brawlers.” I allowed myself a test smile, saw astonishment in his eyes, saw the dawning recognition that this was the ultimate good trade. Then finally the wonder, uncertainty at my resolute poor humor in spite of a dream come true.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I nodded my confirmation, waiting for his grin to infect me, needing the contagion to kick some reality into the empty words.
He launched at me, yanking me from my seat and taking me into a bear hug, spinning me around and lifting me from the floor in spite of my superior size. I was taller by four inches and had at least sixty pounds on him, but he was no slouch after all. He’d been a tough defenseman in his day, enjoyed playing on the D-3 team at Plymouth State and made it to a good number of my UNH Wildcat games, especially in the playoffs, in spite of his schedule.
I’d never made it to his games, but I showed him a good time when he visited at UNH so that had to count for something. But maybe it had been the beginning of the dwindling of our friendship.
“Fucking A. I can’t believe you. This is fucking amazing. The dream team!” he shouted the words as he spun around and the contagion spread to my chest first and then to my mouth so that by the time he’d put me down, I was grinning. For real. The kind that comes from the soul. I fought to hold onto it.
“You son of a bitch—when did you find out? You knew all along? I bet your dad was ecstatic—no wonder he chose that moment to pass on. Dying a happy man.”
The moment of joy vanished, turning to dust in my mouth and I tried to turn away, to not have this conversation.
“Wait a minute—“ Eddie grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him, to face up to my demons, my horror, my hell. “He didn’t know? When— “
“I found out today.” I nearly shouted the words. Swiped a hand through my hair until I realized it was shaking, then I shoved it in my pocket. But Eddie knew. I couldn’t hide from him any more than I could hide from Angela. Maybe this was what it was like to have a family. To have people who really knew you. They got to all the most vulnerable places in you, had license to gut you alive. And to pick you up.
“Fuck, man. I’m so sorry.” He crashed down onto an old wooden chair and we were lucky it held up. I leaned against the counter, eying the bottles.
