I don’t know if this place even has volunteer opportunities. Maybe you have to be a social worker or a doctor. I guess I can find out.
I make the call and introduce myself. “I guess I’m looking for a way to share my experience and perspective,” I tell the man, whose name is Mike. “To try to help.”
We talk for a while. He has a gentle manner that makes it easy to open up to him.
“Why don’t you come in tomorrow,” he says. “We have a group session at ten. You being a professional athlete will give you a platform that might have some influence on the young people.”
“Okay.” A seed of hope germinates inside me, animating me. “That sounds great.”
I don’t know what I’m going to say. All I can do is tell my truth and be myself, I guess.
“We’re a peer-driven drug and alcohol addiction recovery support center,” Mike tells me the next day when I arrive at Light House. “We work in collaboration with state and local community-based organizations. All our services are free of charge. Our goal is to inspire and empower our members with the recovery skills necessary to become healthy, purposeful and successful members of the community.”
I nod and look around as he leads me through the building, which is actually an old home. We walk into a room that was probably a dining room at one time. Chairs are arranged in a circle, some of them occupied by teenagers. A couple of boys stand to one side talking. Mike introduces me to Donna. “She’ll be facilitating his meeting,” he says.
“Hi, Donna. Nice to meet you.”
We shake hands.
“Have a seat,” she says with a smile.
I take a chair, and soon everyone is sitting in a circle. I imagine this is what an AA meeting is like. I rub my palms on my khaki pants.
Donna introduces me. I catch the spark of interest at the fact that I play for the New York Bears. Then we go around the circle for the kids to introduce themselves. There are six boys and two girls.
“I’ll let you tell your story,” Donna says to me.
“Okay.” I look around. “I’ve never done this before. So bear with me.” I don’t get much reaction. Tough crowd.
I tell them my story. I talk about Eric. I tell them I don’t know what it’s like to be an addict…except…maybe I do. A little?
I tell them about my feelings when Eric was dealing with his substance abuse issues. I get a lot of nods of recognition.
I hate that these kids have probably put their families through something similar. How the hell am I going to reach them when their own families can’t? What the fuck am I even doing here?
I push aside the doubts and forge on. I talk about my anger and resentment. “And I think…” I pause, because this only just came to me. “Sometimes we use other things to cope with the pain.” I think about Eric. “I don’t know what kind of pain Eric was in. I don’t know what kind of pain you’re in.” I make some eye contact. “I didn’t want to admit that I was in pain. So I played hockey. That was all I did. It kept me from thinking about things. It kept me from feeling things.” I swallow.
“Hockey’s not a bad coping mechanism,” one kid says dryly. “You make millions of dollars.”
I half-smile. “Yeah. But it’s never a good thing having only one thing in your life. It holds you back from a lot of other things. Important things.” Like Emerie. Like…love.
The kids have questions for me, and I try to answer them as best I can. They make me think. Then I listen as Donna asks the group a few questions based on the things I’ve said, that maybe make them think, too.
At the end of our time, I’m exhausted but in a totally different way than after a game or a hard practice. I feel good, though. Maybe I had some small impact on one of these kids. Maybe I helped myself more than I helped them.
Being a professional hockey player probably got them to listen to me. But here, it doesn’t matter if I’m the best hockey player. In fact, it doesn’t matter anywhere—except to me. And as I walk out of Light House, it strikes me that being the best I can doesn’t necessarily mean being the best hockey player.
And I have a lot of work to do on that.
30
Emerie
Cat wants to go to a hockey game.
I don’t think I can do it.
It’s Saturday night, so there’s no reason not to. And I want to spend time with Cat. Owen’s not playing, which is the main reason I wanted to watch hockey. I wanted to watch him.
Okay, maybe I like the game a bit. But it reminds me of Owen, and that makes me sad.
We’re going to sit in Vince’s box since that’s free.
Really looking forward to seeing him. Not.
So much for my tough talk and certainty that Owen and I would be together. I feel like a fool, now. Vince is probably enjoying it. He better not think that means I’m open to dating Roman.
I told Cat Owen and I broke up and that I was sad about it, but I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I was surprised how upset she was.
“You mean I won’t see him anymore?” she asked, eyes filling with tears.
“No. I’m sorry.”
“I like Owen!”
“Me, too, Kit Cat. Me too.” I gave her a hug.
She’s been over to my new place to see it. She met Lilly and Otis, who she adores.
I pull on a pair of loose jeans with a frayed hem, the black lug-soled boots I often wear when busking, and a black turtleneck sweater. I leave my hair loose and don’t bother with contacts, putting on my big, black-framed glasses. Black seems to suit my mood.
I taxi over to the west side to get Cat, then to the arena. Cat’s wearing the jersey Owen gave her, which chokes me up for a minute.
“So, what’s new?” I ask her on the way.
“Mmm. Well, Dad took me to swimming this week. And he stayed and watched.”
Whoa. I try to mute my shock. “That’s nice.”
“And I asked him for help with my homework, and he helped me with a geometry problem.”
Again, whoa. “You can call me if you need help.”
“I know.” She shrugs. “He was right there, so I asked.”
“Is he home more?”
“Yeah. He is.”
Mind. Blown. “I’m glad.”
We near the arena and hop out of the cab. I love how the area buzzes with energy on a game day. The air is mild with the promise of spring in the soft breeze.
We ride the elevator up to the press box level and head down the hall to Vince’s box.
“Hello, Emerie,” he says neutrally.
“Hi, Vince. How’s it going?” I take a seat.
“It’s going fine.”
“Thanks for letting us watch up here.”
He nods. We make painful small talk for a few minutes. Then he says, “Cat tells me you have a new place.”
“Yes.”
“You and Cooke aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“Yes.” I press my lips together. “But does not mean I’m interested in getting back together with Roman.”
“I know.”
I give my head a little shake. What?