She shook her head. “Not too well, I’m afraid. He’s got sepsis now, likely from the pneumonia.”
“I saw him pretty recently. He seemed like he was doing so well.”
“He was. The pneumonia took us by surprise. He’s got lung cancer, so having a cough isn’t unusual. That’s what we thought it was until he came down with a high fever. It spread fast because his immune system is compromised from the chemo.”
“Would it be alright if I visited him for a few minutes?”
Mrs. Wolfman smiled. “I think he’d love that. I was going to take a walk downstairs to grab some coffee. There’s a Starbucks in the lobby. So I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“Would you like me to grab you a cup?”
“No thanks.” I smiled. “Otto is so anti-Starbucks.”
“Oh, don’t I know it. But I really enjoy it. I’ll tell you a little secret.” She motioned for me to come closer. “I keep a sleeve of plain, white Styrofoam cups in my cupboard. Sometimes I pick up a Starbucks and dump it into one of those so I don’t have to listen to him rant for a half hour about how the place is overpriced.”
I laughed. “That’s classic.”
She patted my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
After Mrs. Wolfman left, I stood at the doorway, not sure what to say or do. A nurse came by to add another bag of fluids to Otto’s IV pole. As she worked, she spoke aloud, telling him what she was doing. I stopped her on her way out.
“Can he hear you?”
She had a kind smile. “Maybe. Many people do wake up remembering conversations visitors had, but it’s different on a case-by-case basis. I like to assume they can and just let them know what I’m up to. There have been studies that show patients benefit from the familiar sound of the voices of loved ones. They believe it can help awaken the brain and improve recovery time.” She nodded toward Otto. “Go ahead in. It may feel weird at first, but just try telling him about your day.”
I nodded. “Okay, thank you.”
I took a seat beside Otto’s bed and looked up at all the wires and monitors.
“Hey, old man.” I smiled sadly. “I was going to come visit and say goodbye before I left. You didn’t have to go and do all this just to get my ass in gear. The nurse says you might recognize voices. I figure if I’m too nice, you might get confused, so I’ll just be my regular charming self.”
I paused and thought back to the first time Otto and I met, seven years ago. “I’m going to tell you something, but if you remember it when you wake up, I’ll deny I ever said it. Anyway…I looked forward to seeing you every day after practice. You always reminded me of my dad. He was my biggest supporter, but never afraid to dish out a dose of reality. My rookie year, I walked in with a chip on my shoulder. I thought the team would be excited to land me, that I’d proven my worth by my stats in college and the price tag of the big contract I’d signed. I didn’t understand that some of the guys had put in ten or fifteen years and watched more than one big-name rookie turn out to be a disappointment. There was a guy named Sikorski who rode me hard that first year, and we started to go at it on the ice. One day after practice, I was sitting around in the penalty box, stewing over us getting into it yet again. You were pushing a broom and asked me if I planned on marrying Sikorski. I looked at you like you were crazy and said he wasn’t my type. And then you said something that’s stuck with me to this day: ‘Not every battle is worth the fight.’ You told me to stop wasting my time on shit that comes between my destiny and me.” I shook my head. “Something just clicked. I was funneling all of my energy into a fight I didn’t have to win. And that just took focus away from the things that really mattered, like improving my game.”
I stared up at the numbers on the monitor for a while, watching Otto’s heartbeat. “By the way, I finally met Mrs. Wolfman a little while ago. I don’t think I have to tell you she’s too pretty and nice for your grumpy ass.”
I heard a chuckle behind me and turned to find Otto’s wife standing at the door.
She had two coffee cups in her hands. “Thank you. I can see why you two are friends now. That sounded just like something he would say.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
She smiled. “It’s fine. That’s exactly what Otto would want—people being real.” She walked into the room and handed me a coffee. “I know you said you didn’t want one, but you always brought him coffee, so it felt right to return the favor.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Over the next two hours, Mrs. Wolfman and I shared funny stories about Otto. She told me the only person who ever got the soft side of her husband was their daughter. Apparently, she had him wrapped around her finger and could get him to do anything. Like the time in seventh grade she was struggling in algebra, and Mrs. Wolfman told Otto their daughter couldn’t go out and play until she did all her homework. He got home earlier than his wife and had to enforce the rules. It had seemed like he was, until one day when the teacher called with concerns because their daughter’s homework had gone downhill in quality. Even her handwriting had become sloppier. Turned out, Otto was doing her math homework, while she went out to play. And he was even worse at algebra than their daughter.
I was really glad I’d come. Mrs. Wolfman seemed to enjoy sharing stories. But when the nurse asked if we would step out so she could wash Otto, I figured it was time for me to get going.
“Would you mind if I gave you my number so you can let me know if anything changes?” I asked her. “I’m moving in a few days, but I’ll pop back in again before then, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’d love that. Thank you, Max.”
After I entered my number in her phone, I said goodbye, but then turned back. “Mrs. Wolfman?”
“Yes?”
“The other day when he told me he was leaving the Garden to drive cross country with you, he told me his life always felt full because he was with the person he loved. It wasn’t only your daughter Otto had that soft spot for.”
She smiled. “I think there may have been a certain hockey player in that category, too. He just would never let you know it.”
• • •
Two days later, Mrs. Wolfman called to tell me Otto had passed.
CHAPTER 27
* * *
Georgia
Friday night, Maggie made me go out. It had been at least three weeks since I’d seen Max, and I still had zero desire to do anything. But my best friend was not a person who took no for an answer. She’d told me we were going to an art exhibit, which was far better than a singles bar in my mind, but when we arrived at The Gallery, I realized I’d been duped.
There was art on the walls, but the place was also a bar—one filled with wall-to-wall people. “I thought you said this was an art gallery.”
Maggie held her hands out. “It is. They rotate the exhibition every month. Now what do you want to drink?”