Page 43 of Roughing
Swallowing, I revealed my personal pain in a voice hoarse with emotion. I started at the end with a plan to work my way backward, but I wasn’t offering any more details than requested.
“My sister, Alice, died of a drug overdose two years ago after a long battle with addiction. She was nineteen.”
“Briggs, I’m so sorry.” People often said they were sorry but never really meant it. By the profound concern on Michella’s face, her emotions were true, which was one of the things I’d always enjoyed about her. She didn’t play games, and she told it like it was.
“Yeah, it was a tough time. I lost my grandfather shortly after, so both losses were a huge blow.”
“And your parents?”
“They’re nonexistent. My mom is an alcoholic, and I’m not sure where she is. My dad only comes around when he needs money. My grandfather raised my sister and me. He’s the reason I got involved in hockey. He was my hockey mom. That’s what the other parents jokingly called him when I was a kid.”
“I can tell by the way your eyes light up that he meant a lot to you.”
“He did. More than you can imagine.” Talking about my grandfather was both melancholy and sad. The hole he’d left in my heart hadn’t healed. I didn’t know if it ever would.
“And why are you blaming yourself for your sister’s death? Sounds like it had nothing to do with you. You don’t do drugs.”
“I don’t, but it’s still my fault. I could’ve prevented it.”
Michella squeezed my hand.
“I was always there for her whenever I could be. I paid for multiple rehab visits, but the drugs were her life. She’d been an addict since she’d turned fourteen and fallen into the wrong crowd. Everything went downhill from there. Life with my sister was a roller coaster of disappointment and worry. I lived in constant fear I’d lose her.”
“You’d already lost her to the drugs.” Michella spoke softly, and my tattered heart wanted nothing more than to curl around her and forget about my past.
“Yeah, I had. I pride myself on being a strong guy, but I wasn’t strong enough to help her overcome her demons.”
“No one is that strong. It comes down to the addict. You couldn’t do it for her.”
“I couldn’t handle her constant drama, and she was dragging me down with her. I finally chose to distance myself. We were in the finals. I couldn’t afford distractions. She called me multiple times in a twenty-four-hour period. I was on the road. I turned off my phone and concentrated on hockey.” I paused and swallowed a lump in my throat.
“It’s okay,” Michella encouraged me gently and stroked my arm.
“The other team won the Cup. Eventually, I checked my messages, but not at first. I was busy wallowing in my own pity. Once I turned on the phone, there were countless texts and voice mails from her, each one more desperate than the other, begging me to come and get her to the point she was in hysterics. I checked her last known address, but the apartment was empty. I roamed the streets where she’d hung out. Nothing. No one had seen her or admitted to seeing her. I called the police and reported her as missing. They don’t take missing drug addicts seriously, but I used my celebrity card. That helped. They found her body a few days later by a dumpster. The autopsy indicated an overdose, but I can’t help but feel it might go deeper. Every message she sent me that night was more and more desperate, almost as if she was in trouble.”
“You think someone killed her?”
“I’d guess she owed money for drugs and couldn’t pay it. That’s why she was trying to reach me. It’d happened before, and I’d given her the money. This time I was trying for tough love.”
“And you had the biggest game in your hockey career to worry about.”
“I chose hockey over my baby sister. As a result, she’s dead.”
“Briggs, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t force her to do drugs. You did as best you could, but at some point, you have to remove yourself from the situation for your own mental health. From what you’re saying, you tried, but toxic is toxic.”
“My best wasn’t good enough, and in the end, I didn’t try at all.”
“So you blame yourself, and you’ve been filled with self-loathing ever since?”
Michella hit me between the eyes with the truth. I hadn’t articulated my situation in quite that way.
I nodded.
“Briggs.” She placed her hands on either side of my face. “Listen to me. This isn’t your fault.”
I didn’t necessarily agree with her, but I didn’t argue, either. I’d lived with this guilt for so long I couldn’t easily shed it. Michella had strong convictions, and she’d made up her mind on this subject while my thoughts were in turmoil, a jumble of confusion and guilt.
I stared into those deep-brown eyes. I wanted to lose myself and forget about the horrible memories I’d dredged up. My sister’s last messages played on repeat in my head and wouldn’t shut off.
