“Not all the time, just on Saturday and Sunday,” he says. “I have to go with her because she doesn’t have anyone to watch me.”
“She’s a good mom,” I say, my head swirling with the information he just told me. She works two jobs and doesn’t even have money to buy breakfast. I want to ask her all the questions, but who the fuck am I that she is going to answer me. I’m just some guy who took her to breakfast once.
Dylan walks over to the wall and grabs his new stick. “I’m going to tape my new stick tonight,” he says, and I smile, grabbing my own helmet and following him on the ice.
He gets on before me, and I’m expecting him to wobble a bit, but instead, he just glides on like he was born to be there. I get on after him and blow the whistle. “Two laps,” I say, twirling my fingers and then blow the whistle again and watch the kids take off. I stand in the middle with Ralph.
“Doesn’t it make you laugh?” He starts to talk. “Some rich kids out there are paying two hundred dollars an hour for someone to train them, and they will never be as good as half of these kids.” I watch the kids go around in the circle, and I spot Dylan right away by the way he moves. “Look at that kid,” Ralph says, pointing at Dylan. “Look at the way he skates. He uses his whole body, which makes him even better.”
“What about if you put a puck on his stick?” I ask, and he smiles at me.
“My favorite part,” he says, going over and getting the pucks and throwing them on the ice. I watch as Dylan slides over and takes a puck with the back of his blade and then kicks it to the stick like it’s no big deal. He skates around and moves the puck right and left. The whole time, his head is up, and not once does he lose control of it. “His hands are better than the fifteen year olds. If this kid has the opportunity, he might beat your dad’s records.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “If you’re right, I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.”
For the rest of the practice, I watch Dylan closely, and every single time he’s given something to do or works on a drill, he just excels and pushes himself. When the hour is over, the kids skate to the bench and take a drink of water. “Okay, three-on-three game,” Ralph says. I watch as Dylan skates to center ice, and I stand back as he gets into position exactly like I do. He skates in a circle and then leans forward with his stick in his hands. He gets ready for the face-off, and he doesn’t look at the kid; he looks at Ralph who holds the puck in his hand. He leans in just a touch and drops the puck. Dylan ducks down, and his stick goes out winning the face-off.
He skates past the kid, going straight to the puck, and there is only one kid on defense, so it’s almost like a one-on-one. He skates to the right and then to the left, and when he thinks the other kid is going back to the right, Dylan pulls his stick back and aims for the net, his puck hitting the back of the net. “I should have doubled the wager,” Ralph says, skating to go get the puck.
“Hey, Justin, did you see that I scored?” Dylan says, skating to the bench and letting someone else take his place.
“I did see it,” I say. “Smooth.”
He just nods his head, smiling, while he takes a squirt of water. By the end of the game, he’s scored ten goals. He skates off the ice, and the only time I see him again is at the end of the day when he comes out of the locker room with his hair wet.
“Hey, is my mom here?” he asks, looking around. I look toward the door and see her walking in. I smile, just thinking about her, but when she looks up, I see that she’s been crying. Her eyes look like they are bloodshot, and I look at Dylan, who sees her and runs to her. She sees him and smiles at him, showing a brave face, and my heart can’t stop the hammering. It can’t stop even if I told it not to, even if I know she has the ability to shatter it.
I don’t go to her. Instead, I watch how she buries whatever she is going through to smile at Dylan. “Did you have a good day?” she asks, opening her arms and kissing his head when he reaches around to hug her waist.
“Yeah, we got all new stuff,” he says, and she looks up and finally sees me.
“Hey,” she says, her voice coming out monotone. “Thank you so much for helping today,” she says, holding out the keys for the SUV. “And for the lunch.” She does a fake smile and then looks down at Dylan. “Let’s get going.”
“How are you getting home?” I ask, and my stomach somehow burns with anger.
She is about to answer me when Amy comes out, calling my name. “Justin.” She swaggers over, and I turn my head to look at her. “We are still on for tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” I say and then my name is called again, this time by a parent who walks by, and when I turn back around, Dylan and Caroline are gone. I jog out to see if I see them, and I can’t spot them anywhere. I turn to walk back into the arena, and I’m almost run down by Malika, who isn’t looking up.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, and I can see that she is really upset.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, and she just looks around.
“You are doing a good thing here,” she says. “The kids who come here, this is huge for them. And the parents, I can’t even begin to tell you how blown away the parents are. They aren’t freeloaders, and they deserve to not be judged.” I almost have to take a step back.
“I would never judge anyone,” I say.
“I know you don’t,” she says and then looks down and then up again. “But not everyone working for you does. I’ll see you tonight at seven,” she says and then walks away. I watch her walk away with more questions that I have to do, and I make a mental note to talk to her tonight after the meeting. I also take my phone out and call Caroline, and it goes directly to a generic message.
The customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please call back.
I hang up and text her right away.
Me: Where did you go?
I look down at my phone, expecting her to answer, but she doesn’t.
“Hey,” Ralph says when he sees me looking down at my phone as I wait for Caroline to answer me. “Do you have a minute?” he asks me, looking around.
“Yeah,” I say, looking at him and seeing he is unsure of whatever he has to say. “Let’s go into the office.” I lead the way into the offices and go inside one of the empty ones and close the door. “What’s up?”
“Listen, I think what you are doing here is amazing,” he says, then he runs his hands through his hair. “You are giving these kids a chance to be something.” I just look at him. “All of us are here for one reason or another, but Amy”—he shakes his head—“I just can’t.”
“What happened?” I ask him, my blood starting to boil.
“A father just went up to her to hand her his new contact information, and she refused to take the paper from him because his hands were dirty.” He shakes his head. “She told him to put it down on her desk and she would take care of it. The way she jumped when he tried to hand it to her. Dude, it was …”
“That is unacceptable,” I tell him. “This is my name. It’s the Justin Stone Foundation. If you work for me, you represent me, and she definitely does not represent me when she acts like that. What is wrong with her?”