Page 118 of Heartbreak Hockey

“Guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. I love hockey, but same as you, I don’t want to play professionally. Don’t know what I want to do yet, except that I want to help look after Baby Meyer. I’m gonna be your live-in nanny.”

“Uh, with help,” Ari chimes in. “There’s a ton of new condo developments up there. My company’s already got bids in for some painting jobs and even a few lined up for next season so I’ll be up living in Kelowna whether you agree to this or not. I’m working on hiring some guys, so I don’t have to be on-site all the time.”

“I see. You’ve got everything figured out, eh? What are Rachel and Dawson for?”

“I’m staying here, but I’ll help during the off-season,” Rachel says.

“Dawson?”

“I’m gonna do my senior year in Kelowna.”

I shake my head. “We don’t need either of the teens for this venture. If you’re hell-bent on the rest of it, fine.” It doesn’t look like I’m getting a choice in the matter. They’ve clearly had a pre-family meeting without me.

“We’ll need the extra hands, Merc,” Ari says. “We’ll have a baby. At least Dawson.”

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I gather my thoughts, wishing there was money in the budget to hire someone. We do need the extra hands with a tiny babe like that. I don’t want to uproot Dawson’s life though. It’s his graduation year. How they convinced him to leave that I’ll never know. Don’t want to.

“There’s another alternative,” I say. “I could hire people for my automotive business. That would generate more income, and no one would have to move.”

“And then once again, you’re the only one giving up all your dreams. No deal, Merc,” Ari says. “We’ve all seen you on the ice this season. You’re meant to be there. Let us help you for once.”

“That’s how I feel too,” Bea says. “It’s always you sacrificing the most, Merc. Before, we didn’t have much choice. Now, we can do this for you, and we want to.”

“Agreed,” Bryce says.

“What are your feelings on this, Dawse?”

His arms are crossed. He readjusts and he sighs. “It’d be a great place to play hockey.” He refuses to say more than that, but I can read between the lines. He’s sacrificing now. He’s sixteen and he shouldn’t have to. I don’t like it.

“I need to think about this,” I tell them.

They all get pissy. Huffing. Slamming drinks down. “You’re so fucking difficult, Merc.” That’s Bea, understandably fed up with me.

“You’re the one taking on babies and now you don’t like our plan? Fuck you, Merc.” That’s Dawson.

Ari places a hand on Dawson’s wrist to calm him down. To me he says, “Merc, this ain’t a damn dictatorship anymore. We’re a family. We vote on this.”

Guess I was voted out of power too. “Looks like you’ve all figured it out then, eh? Must mean there’s nothing left to discuss. I’ve got to get busy over here with my important coaching job. Talk soon.”

I end the call without more of a goodbye than that. They began their meeting without me, they can finish their meeting without me.

I’m not shocked when the phone rings two minutes later. I’m already feeling bad for hanging up on them. I have no right to be pissed at my siblings, not when they’re doing what’s probably the only real solution on the table. I just don’t like it. I think about what Jack said about at least giving him a head’s up. I didn’t give them that either. I’m no better than Dad, getting myself into trouble and hoping everyone will help me out. I have no right to complain about the way they want to help.

It’s not them calling me.

The caller is an unrecognized number. I used to let that stuff go to voicemail because it’s spam more often than not, but these days it could be anyone from the league.

“Y’ello. Mercy Meyer speaking.”

“H-Hey, Mercy.”

Fuck. The voice shoots through me, reaching into the darkest places of my mind. It’s familiar. It connects to my insides because it’s written into every cell of every organ. My DNA remembers her even if I’d do anything to forget her.

“M-Mom?” Part of me is praying it’s somehow Bea. Sometimes Bea sounds like Mom, but Bea’s voice is lighter than Mom’s ever was.

Then there’s the little boy I locked in the dark closet of my memories a long time ago, the one who waited by the fucking window every night for a year. He’s fighting to get out. He doesn’t give a shit how long she’s been gone and is ready to run to Mom and make her stay with him forever.

“Yeah, Mercy. It’s me.”