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Byron

I’m struck at the relief I feel when I walk into the Riley Center knowing that this is where my dad would want me to be. The grief that’s been lurking since he passed at three o’clock this morning isn’t gone, but it’s been taken down to a volume where I feel like I can help the guys win today.

It hurts knowing that he left this earth just as everything started to feel normal with us. But, he is not suffering anymore and that gives me a sense of peace.

Coach’s door is propped open with a puck when I go to knock. I poke my head in to see him looking at his computer screen no doubt watching film from Hamiton’s game against Notre Dame last week.

His eyes soften when notices me in his doorway. Since my suspension, he’s known it’s only been a matter of time before I came to tell him this news.

His chair screeches across the concrete floor. It’s the only sound in the room. The man who has been a father figure to me for the last four years wraps me in a hug.

“I’m so sorry Byron.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy he’s not suffering anymore,” I say truthfully.

“Your teammates would understand if you choose not to play today.”

I shake my head.

“I’m not missing getting payback on those assholes. My dad would not want me to leave here with any unfinished business.”

I know that would be one of the regrets he was talking about.

“Okay, just let me know if you need a minute during the game okay?”

He pats me on the shoulder. This is one of the reasons I chose to come play for Coach Steven’s program all those years ago. He treats us like people, not just athletes that are here to add to his win total.

“I will Coach,” I say with a smile.

“I think getting a win today would be what my dad really wanted.”

Nobody was in the locker room when I went to get dressed for warm ups today, but that wasn’t really that shocking considering I got here early. I’m rounding the corner that leads to the ice when I hear a loud shushing coming down the hallway.

Scattered on the ice are my teammates. They must have gotten here an hour before call time started since I didn’t run into any of them before now.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, because the way they are all staring at me right now has me thinking I might be the reason why.

Marcus makes a quick cut on his skates until he is standing in front of me. “We all thought you might not want to be alone right now,” he says sheepishly while shrugging his shoulders. He’s really trying to figure out if he overstepped or not.

“Thank you,” is all I can choke out.

He’s right, I don’t want to be alone right now.

These are the relationships my dad was reminding me to value.

Every captain will brag about how his team is made up of the best group of guys, none of them compare to this group.

When I have nothing to give they show up for me just because I need them to.

I texted Lola last night not wanting to wake her up.

She called me at seven o’clock this morning.

It was a quick conversation before I had to head to The Riley Center.

Things still felt strained, but she was there for me.

She was supportive when I told her I planned to play today, but I was in such a rush I forgot to ask if she was coming.

Before my dad’s health took a turn she wasn’t sure if she was coming to today’s game with it being this close to Christmas.

The few days before Christmas she normally spends with her Nonno and Nonna baking Christmas cookies.

She was also very clear about the fact that she would be perfectly happy to never see Dalton again.

“I’m sorry about your dad Byron. That really sucks,” Oliver says as we head out to the ice.

I let coach tell the team what happened when we all reported for our pre-game breakfast. The team has been my backbone since I told them about my dad’s diagnosis.

Their support today is the only thing keeping me upright.

I want to fight with these men and play my role in beating the shit out of Hamilton.

“Thanks Ollie. Your support has meant the world to me.”

We enter the arena to a crazy light show and a roaring applause. With Hamilton University being a stone throw away from campus they have a decent cheering section in the sold out arena, however, they are drowned out by the Retriever faithful.

Out of habit I scan the crowd looking for my little black-haired pipsqueak. My shoulders deflate when I reach her normal seat and see it’s empty.

My gut told me that there was a good chance she wasn’t going to come to this game. I dismantled the communication in our relationship, I’m just praying it’s not beyond repair.

Skating to my spot for the national anthem I’m drawn out of my pre-game routine to the sound of anxious banging on the glass. When I finally find where it’s coming from I see Lola who is out of breath and looking as beautiful as ever in my Westvale Hockey hoodie.