Page 22

Chapter 22

ZACK

After I arrive at the hospital, the doctors explain to me that since my mom’s injuries are pretty minor, she can come home with me. “Are you familiar with concussion protocol?” The doctor asks. “We can discharge her as long as you’re able to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours or so.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve played a lot of contact sports, I’m very familiar with treating concussions.” The doctor looks me up and down, as if he’s trying to recognize me. I shift my weight awkwardly. Now is not the time for me to be signing autographs.

Fortunately, the doctor doesn’t ask any more questions, and I’m sent back to the waiting room. Soon my mom is wheeled out by a nurse, her purse in her lap and a sling on her left arm.

“I still can’t believe you came all this way!” My mom shakes her head at me, wincing with the movement.

“Of course I did. Let’s get you home now.” I thank the nurse and help my mom out of the wheelchair and into my car. “I wasn’t going to leave you to fend for yourself.”

Mom grumbles a little, but settles herself in the passenger seat of my car. “The sun’s awfully bright.”

I flip the shade down on her side. “Close your eyes, then. We’ll be home soon. I know the way.” I give her a sideways smile.

She does — leaning her head back on the headrest, she closes her eyes. I see her breathing like she’s counting the seconds between each inhale, trying to stay calm. I pull out of the parking lot.

Driving through Northville always fills me with a strange sense of nostalgia. It’s been too long since I’ve driven down these streets. With traveling so much during the season, it's hard to get up here to visit mom as much as I want to.

We pass a sandwich shop that used to be a Mexican place, and a “For Lease” sign where my favorite ice cream shop used to be.

“How long has Sweet Scoop been gone?” I ask my mom, surprised.

“They went out of business a few months ago,” she responds. “I miss their pistachio flavor. The stuff from the supermarket just isn’t as good.”

I stare at the empty building until it’s out of sight. It looks like Northville has changed in a few months as much as I have in the same few months I’ve been away.

New signs, new names—but the old feelings are always still there, waiting on every corner.

I pull into the townhome development where I was finally able to move Mom a few years ago. I’m glad we don’t have to go back to the dump where I grew up.

After I park, I hurry around to my mom’s door to help her out. “I can do it!” she insists, but she leans heavily on me all the same. I guide her up the stairs and settle her in her room, pulling the curtains closed and dimming the lights.

“How are you feeling?” I sit down at the foot of the bed. “I can get you some Tylenol for the pain.”

“That would be great.” My mom shifts in the bed, getting comfortable. I go into her bathroom medicine cabinet and grab a few tablets, then fill a cup with water and bring it all back to her. She downs the pills and the water quickly.

“I’m going to run to the store and pick up some ginger ale and crackers.” Concussions always made me nauseous, and it’s good to have that stuff on hand. “But after that, I’m not leaving your side. Okay?”

“Who knew I raised such a mother hen?” My mom waves me off. “I keep telling you, I’m fine. They said it was only a minor concussion.”

“It’s not just the concussion I’m worried about.” I brace my hands on my hips. “You can’t be doing too much with your collarbone, either. You need rest and limited movement, or the bone won’t heal properly.”

“Sheesh. You’d think you were a doctor, not a hockey player.” Mom settles back into her pillows with a grunt.

“That’s one thing doctors and hockey players have in common. We both learn a lot about all the different ways a person can get injured.”

I fix her with a look. “I’ll be right back. You stay here, and keep the lights off.”

“I know the drill. Don’t forget who nursed you through all of your concussions.” Mom raises her eyebrows at me, and I raise mine right back.

She softens into a smile. “Thanks for taking such good care of your old mom. I do appreciate it.”

I drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Of course, Mom. I love you.”

After a quick store run, I come back with ginger ale and an ice pack, and bring them to my mom’s bedside.

She hides her phone when she sees me coming, and groans like a teenager when I take it away. “You need to limit your screen time!” I tell her. “The light–”

“I know, I know. I was just telling work that I wouldn't be able to come in the next few days.” Mom sighs heavily. “I really can’t afford to miss too many days. This month is going to be tight as it is.”

“Tight? What about the money I’ve been sending you?” I ask, a little concerned. I send her a monthly income to cushion her monthly expenses, as well as pay her mortgage on the condo.

“You know I don’t like using that, Sweetie. You’re already paying my mortgage!” Mom reaches out for me with her good hand. “You know, Harrison, you won’t be able to play hockey forever. I am just so happy you have gotten to play this long. I want to have a nest egg for you when you need it.”

I roll my eyes fondly. “I have my own savings, you know. You don't need to be my "rainy day savings account". The money I send you is for you . I want you to live a little.” I lean into my mother’s touch. “Please, Mom. Let me help you.”

She sighs. “Fine. You can spoil me with the hospital bill, but that’s it. ”

“I’d be happy to.” And I mean it. Anything I can do to make things easier for her.

I get up to leave, but my mom calls after me. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

I hesitate in the doorway. “I’m leaving you to get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.”

“What am I supposed to do to keep myself occupied here in the dark?” Mom complains. “You took my phone.”

I chuckle. “You could listen to some music? Get some sleep, maybe?”

“I’m not very tired. How about you sit with me and we can talk?” She tucks the ice pack behind her head, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “Oh, that’s cold.”

“Okay, Mom. Sure.” I sit back down at the foot of the bed and stare at her in silence for a moment. “What do you want to talk about?”

She nudges me with her foot. “You could start by telling me a little about your life? I feel like I barely hear from you anymore. You’re so busy.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I lean back on my hands, getting comfortable. “There’s not much to tell. I’m working hard with the Blades. My focus is on hockey, like it has been since college– well, maybe since forever.” I shrug. “I know it’s not very exciting.”

“No girlfriend?” I must hesitate too long to answer the question, because she starts poking at me with her foot again. “There is someone! Come on, Harrison Colt, you’d better spill it right now.”

“All right, all right!” I push her foot away. “But only if you calm down.” Mom settles in obediently, waiting expectantly. I sigh, wondering where to begin. “Her name is Amber.”

I spend the rest of the evening catching my mom up on the last few weeks, telling her all about Amber.

I explain what a mental performance coach is, and what Amber does. And I tell her about the date at Melt.

It’s nice to be open with someone about everything instead of trying to hide it. I find myself looking forward to the day when Amber and I won’t have to sneak around anymore, and we can just be a normal couple.

Eventually, Mom dozes off mid-sentence, and I just sit there, thinking about Amber.

Talking about her out loud makes everything feel more real. More possible. I realize how grateful I am for her, so I send her a quick message telling her just that.

I haven’t heard from her since I arrived in Northville earlier today, but she’s probably busy at the rink.

Amber still hasn’t gotten back to me by the next morning, but I try not to worry. I send her another text to let her know I’m thinking of her, and then go back to focusing on my mom.

She’s feeling better, but I insist on another day of rest in the dark, which means another day of sitting by her bedside and talking.

Today, we reminisce. I tell my mom how different things are with Amber compared to high school. She looks shocked. “This is the same Amber from your senior year? The one with the brother?” Mom asks.

“Yes, Mike Morrison’s little sister. You remember Mike, right? He played defense, you would have seen him at our games. He was number 6.” I try to remember anything else that might jog her memory, but Mom’s not focused on Mike anymore.

“You really liked that girl.” Mom gives me a knowing look, and I roll my eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. There hasn’t ever really been anyone else, has there? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

I think back. “Nope. I guess it’s always just been Amber.”

Mom keeps looking at me with that smug mother smile, and I try to ignore her. I feel like a kid again, talking about this stuff with her, but she’s right.

And diving into our memories only strengthens the feeling that there’s only ever been Amber.

I should really tell her that.

I stick around another two days to make sure my mom is doing okay, adjusting to moving around with her sling and taking it easy. She gives me a one-armed hug on my way out, thanking me again for spending time taking care of her.

“See you at the first game of the season?” I ask on my way out the door.

“Wouldn’t miss it! And I’m looking forward to seeing Amber there, too!” Trust my mom to tease me one last time on my way out the door.

The drive back to Red Oak isn’t too long, but I’m antsy the whole time. I’m ready to get back to my life, playing hockey for the Blades and having Amber in my arms again. The one short text I got from her while I was away wasn’t nearly enough for me.

I need to be with her again. And she needs to know how important she is to me. I just hope she still feels the same.