Page 31

Byron

I’ve spent the first two hours of the trip to New York listening to a few of my favorite sports podcasts. Once we were out of sight of Dalton’s house, Lola’s walls fell, and she finally broke down. Other than handing her some tissues she had in her glovebox, I just let her feel what she needed to.

Her walls have been cracking since last year.

Lola asked me to trust that she would come to me when she was ready to talk.

She only cried for a few minutes before telling me she was going to listen to the audiobook she downloaded for the trip.

Not ten minutes later she was passed out with Mia doing the same in her lap.

I take a deep breath before moving Mia to her bed in the backseat.

Lola takes advantage of the new space and tucks her feet on the seat.

Her head rests against the window. She looks so peaceful and I don’t really want to disturb her.

Do I want to deal with her wrath if she wakes up while I do a coffee run and don’t tell her?

No, not really.

I gently rub Lola’s arm.

“Hey, Lo, I’m making a stop to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

Her head snaps up but the excitement doesn’t fully reach her eyes, but her smile is genuine. “I’d love a triple shot cappuccino please.”

“Okay, I’m gonna run in and get the coffee, then I’ll come back and walk Mia around so she can go to the bathroom.”

“I can take Mia on a walk.” Her voice is shaky as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

I try to read her facial expression. I don’t want her doing this just because she feels like she has to.

“I want to do this, Byron. It’ll be good to stretch my legs before we get back on the road.”

This weekend she can do whatever she wants and anyone who tries and stops her will have to deal with me.

The coffee shop is small, and locally owned, with an extensive pastry display.

Now, the problem with this is that Lola loves everything, and they have everything.

So I get a few of everything, thankful that we are going to be around all our friends this weekend and the guys are human garbage disposals.

Ten minutes later I’ve secured all the sweets and caffeine that Lola will ever need.

I slide the pastry box on the driver’s seat. I was sure Lola and Mia would already be back. I calmly take in my surroundings, they couldn’t have gotten that far. Panic sets in when I realize she isn’t within my eye view.

Benches, I think I saw benches in the front of the building when I pulled in.

I turn the corner, and my heart rate steadies. Then it sinks when I watch her wipe tears from her cheeks with her phone perched between her ear and shoulder.

Mia climbs up Lola’s chest resting her paws on Lola’s shoulders, licking away her tears. For the first time since we left Hamiton, I see Lola smile.

Lola doesn’t notice me until I take the open seat on the wooden bench.

“Hey Oliver, I got to go. Byron just got out of the coffee shop,” she nods as her brother says something I can’t hear on the other end.

“Thanks, Ollie, I know. Yeah, I’m happy to be away this weekend. Please don’t tell Mom and Dad. I don’t even know if they knew I had a boyfriend. So why give them another reason to be upset with me.”

She pauses as her brother must tell her that her parents love her no matter what because her reply is a melancholy, “I know they love me. They just don’t understand me.”

My instincts say to wrap Lola in a hug and remind her that I understand her. Instead I hike my thumb back towards the car, “I bought a few of every sweet thing they offered so we can eat to our hearts desire.”

“Honestly, that’s just what I needed to hear.”

Lola is working on a cheese danish while I’m on my second donut when she turns down the rap music.

“How did you get that video?”

I pause. I hate that I can’t tell her exactly how this all started, but she deserves everything I know.

“I got it sent to me from someone I played junior hockey with. I don’t know how he got the video.”

“So everyone’s seen it?”

Honestly all she wants is honesty.

“I think it’s kind of been shared around the college hockey world,” I quickly add. “I don’t think anyone knew he had a girlfriend.”

“Oh, that makes this whole situation better.” She put her face in her hands, shaking it back and forth.

“I’m just being honest with you, Lola. I told you he was a douche bag and he showed you that. Feel what you need to feel while in this car, but when we get to New York, we are going to celebrate with our friends and have fun.”

“And get drunk.”

It’s the first joke she’s cracked since we got in the car, and I love that the girl I care so much about is making an appearance.

“Oh, there will be plenty of alcohol.”

The sun shining over the Hudson Valley has helped turn this drive a complete one hundred and eighty degrees from when I found Lola crying. Free from talk of past boyfriends or family drama. It’s easy and fun and reminds me of why she is worth fighting for.

Lola reaches for her second peanut-covered donut when I drop the plan I had pre-sex tape drama.

“So, my mom thinks I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m planning on stopping at her place. Do you–uh–want to come with me?” I take a quick glance in her direction. Her expression is hard to read.

“I called her best friend from the hospital to make sure she wasn’t working today, so I’ll probably spend a good amount of the afternoon there just as a fair warning.”

I’m a confident guy. I have played on the biggest stages in college hockey, but the vulnerability it takes asking Lola to hang out with me and my mom quickly overshadows it.

They met for a quick second this summer, but that was the first time I ever introduced someone to her. There were times she’d catch me in a compromising position on our living room couch with a high school fling when I thought she was working a night shift. That’s just not the same thing.

Lola is coughing, trying to clear her throat, brushing peanut crumbs off her shirt.

“You don’t have to,” I say hastily, “but I think she would love to see you.”

“I’d love to see her again,” her cheeks turn rosy as her eyes turn down bashfully. “I just wasn’t expecting to do it today.”

I try to play it cool, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

“I’ve been wanting to ask for like a week.” I keep my eyes focused on the road.

“Ahhh,” she coos. “Is someone embarrassed?”

“No.” My tone is defensive, but it takes one look to my right and the playful look on Lola’s face is all I need to know that I made the right choice in asking her to come with me.

“Whatever you say liar, but we need to stop so I can pick something up. My Nonna would kill me if I showed up at someone’s house empty handed.”

She just needs to be herself to win my mom over, but as a part-time Italian I don’t argue.

“There is this little bakery around the corner from the apartment that she loves. Why don’t we stop there?”

“Sounds good.” She turns, failing to hide her small smile.

We arrive at my childhood apartment thirty minutes later than any GPS would have predicted. Lola spent twenty minutes debating what kind of cream cheese my mom would like. At one point she had eight containers spread across the counter. I somehow was able to talk her into just five.

Note to self: never take Lola to a restaurant with more than three options.

“You do realize that the only reason we needed this second bag was because you bought more cream cheese than a woman who lives alone will be able to eat in a year.”

Lola’s nose turns up, “Well when you decided to take me to cream cheese heaven, what did you expect to happen?”

Mia runs in front of us and starts scratching at Mom’s door.

I dig through my backpack, looking for my house key.

Mom always keeps her door locked. The key lines up perfectly with the lock, like it always does.

There is always this sense of calm that washes over me when I come home.

Things around me are always changing; class schedules, draft predictions. This place always stays the same.

As I push the door open, I yell. “Surprise.”

I freeze after two steps. I’m the one in shock. Lola slams into my back and the containers of cream cheese scatter across the floor.

It’s like my brain can’t compute what I’m looking at.

“Are you okay, By?” Lola asks me.

If I looked behind me, concern would be etched into every crevice of her face. I’m too focused on what’s in front of me.

My mom is cuddled on the couch, a blanket is pulled up to her chin, her head resting against a man’s shoulder.

“Byron, you’re home early,” Mom’s forehead creases. Her eyes dart between matching pairs of blue eyes.

“How’ve you been, Son?”