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savannah

Victoria’s bottom lip trembles as she uncomfortably rubs her hands together and looks around the restaurant.

“Well.” She turns to me with a smile that I don’t return. “I’m so sorry about Joshua.”

I nod my head, but I’m not going to tell her that it’s okay because it’s not. “This seems like a fairly common thing he does.”

She takes a slow sip of her wine before setting it back on the table. She looks down at her lap. “I’ve failed him.”

I don’t say anything, because dog piling on a mother isn’t really my style, but I also want to hear what else she has to say.

“Noah,” she clarifies. “My daughters, they’re different.

They’re older, and maybe it’s because they’ve never touched a pair of skates and they’ve never had a very close relationship with their father, but they’ve always told me everything.

Things I’ve never told my husband.” She looks out at the restaurant.

A woman twirls angel hair noodles around her fork, laughing with her friends as they all sip their wine, and while Victoria gazes in their general direction, her eyes are vacant.

“I was so excited when the doctors told me we were having a baby boy, but Noah—” She swallows.

“It’s almost like he was never a baby. The first few months were the best months of my life.

I struggled quite a bit with my girls, postpartum baby blues, and I didn’t realize how bad it was until after I had already come out of it.

I never wanted to admit to anyone that I was struggling.

I was overwhelmed and stressed and didn't know how to cope. I just continued to stuff everything deeper and deeper.”

When Noah described his mom to me, I told him they sounded similar, but a pang hits my chest at how alike they actually are, and neither one of them probably even knows it.

“I guess I got lucky, because after the first four months, my hormones leveled out, and I was able to find my way back to myself.” She shakes her head, brushing a wispy bang from her eyes before giving me a tight smile. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you, dear.”

I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. She startles in surprise, just like her son. It’s obvious that neither of them is used to any kind of physical touch with the sole intent of comfort.

“Anyway, with Noah, I finally got to have my blissful baby time. I was healthy, and so was he. I thought I finally had the beautiful, perfect life that I had dreamed up for myself… and then he started walking.” Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, as if she's recalling his entire life at this very moment. “Joshua was so excited to get him into a pair of skates, and for the first few years, we all got to enjoy it. Not only did Noah have a natural talent but he loved it. It wasn’t until he got older that there was a shift. There were signs, and I knew Joshua could be over the top, but Noah never complained about him, so I never stepped in.” She swallows thickly, blotting a perfectly manicured finger at the corner of her eye.

“I know they both love each other and they both want the same thing, but I should have done more. I should have done something because even if all of his dreams co me true, I’ll always regret what he had to endure to get there. ”

They’ve both been poisoned to believe that if they don’t live up to Mr. Kingston’s expectations, it somehow makes them failures.

“I don’t think you're a bad mom. I can tell you care,” I say.

“And Noah has only ever talked about you fondly.” A teardrop falls from her eye.

“And what's most important is that you're still here. You have time to change things with him.” I swallow the lump in my throat and give her hand a small squeeze.

She looks over her shoulder, wiping at her tears, and then points toward the bathroom. “I’m sorry, I’ll?—”

I nod my head. “Take your time.”

I wait until she’s inside the restroom before grabbing my purse and coat. She might have left Noah to deal with his dad on his own his whole life, but I’ll be damned if I do the same.

The parking lot is somehow even more crowded than it was when we got here. I look around until I spot the back of two heads of dark hair. I tighten my hold on my coat, readying myself to enter the crossfire if it means getting Noah out of it.

“You need to drop her.”

Everything in my body freezes, from my feet on the ground to the breath in my throat.

“Dad.”

“I’m serious. You either drop her, or I’m dropping you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” There’s an edge in Noah’s voice, but I don’t miss the hint of betrayal and hurt behind it.

“It means you’re giving up everything I’ve worked for—for a piece of pussy.” I cover myself from view, ducking behind a car, and I slap my hand over my mouth to silence my shock.

“You’re going to stop seeing her because if you don’t, everything is going to go away: the Range Rover, the rent for your house, your groceries.

You might have a scholarship taking care of your classes, but keeping up with hockey and your schoolwork enough to continue to earn that scholarship will be difficult when you’re living on the streets. ”

My stomach churns, and I know for certain that I’m going to be sick. I peer through the windows and catch Noah nodding along to the beat of my heart cracking.

“You know I would do anything you want me to, anything at all: hockey, the NHL, all of it. It’s always been our dream.”

Somewhere nearby, a bomb has dropped. There's a ringing in my ear so loud it drowns out Noah's voice until I can only hear the one in my head.

You’re all the same, and you don’t care about who you hurt to get what you want.

I hold myself up against the car, feeling light headed as I try to breathe through the churning in my stomach. When I can’t stop the choked sob that sounds from the back of my throat, I step back from the car and run.

Fuck the Kingston family and fuck hockey players.