Page 32

T hey pulled up to Max’s father’s house in Remi’s car. She offered to drive more often than not lately, and for that, he was grateful. Driving had become scary, even during the day over the last few weeks, his vision majorly declining seemingly overnight. Taking the time on the drive over to get his head in the right place, he focused on preparing himself for this unconventional family reunion. Nothing seemed to work, so he sat back in his seat and let the sounds of Remi singing along to her punk mix drown out the intense panic he felt in his chest.

He loved how easy she was. She was so free; she didn’t hold back or edit her actions around him, or anyone else for that matter. One day he wanted to know the words to these songs too, and to sing along with the windows down, his hand flying outside the window of his Jeep as they drove along PCH together. He wanted to say the first words that came to his mind, even if they were harsh or offensive or passionate. Looking over at Remi, she smiled up at him, and his heart raced with affection for this woman, drowning out the nerves he had about meeting his father.

When they pulled into the driveway, they found that his father’s house was a faded shade of brown. Not because it wasn't taken care of; it was just an old house that had been lived in. The harsh California summers had taken a toll on its exterior. Remi took Max’s hand in hers, pulling him up the small pathway that led to the front porch, his feet hesitant and his body stiff with fear. When she rang the doorbell, several dogs began to bark, followed by the sound of a woman telling them to settle down. The woman, who Max assumed to be his father’s wife, opened the door with a warm smile on her face and a small white chihuahua in her arms.

“You must be Max and Remi. I’m Nancy, Jim’s wife,” she said, opening the screen door to let them in.

Max was hit with an intense wave of panic. His face flushed hot and he felt his eyes glaze over. It was a lot. People were hard, but with the new people being his estranged father and his wife, it was even harder. Remi gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and he couldn’t be more grateful that she was here with him. It was like she had come into his life at the exact moment he needed her and filled every void, helping him overcome his fears, calming the raging storm that was in his chest.

“Thank you for having us,” Remi said, then added, “We could have met you somewhere, taken you out for lunch.”

“No, it’s fine. We don’t go out as much these days since Jim started collecting stray dogs,” she said with a laugh, the small dog in her arms shaking nervously as she led them through the house. “Your father has never met a dog he didn't want to rescue.”

Anger towards the man swelled in Max’s chest at those words.

Never met a dog he didn’t want to rescue, but he was more than willing to abandon his son like a mangy stray.

“Just right through here,” she said, leading them into the small kitchen where Max saw his father for the first time in his life.

The red hair was a dead giveaway. It was very obvious that the two of them were related, and Max hated that looks weren’t the only thing the man had bestowed upon him. He hated that his father couldn't just pass down the thick red hair, freckled arms, and stocky build, he had to give Max this curse too, this life-altering disease.

The walking cane by his father’s side was the other indication that this was indeed his dad. Max wondered if he would need a cane one day too and his heart raced at the sight of it. Of him, his cane, and the dogs, there were so many fucking dogs. It was too much. He gripped Remi’s hand tightly, and she responded by whispering, “You got this.”

The man stood at the sound of their entry, and Max knew this part all too well; the way your other senses seem to step up when your vision starts to fail.

“Max, this is your father, Jim. Jim, this is Max. He’s the spitting image of you. He brought his girlfriend Remi as well,” she said, introducing Max nonchalantly like he was a missionary off the street popping in to tell him about the second coming.

Max’s father offered up a hand to shake and Remi encouraged him forward to take it. He hesitantly shook it, despite wanting to tell the man that he would like to pass on the formalities. It was surreal, meeting him and seeing him after only ever having wondered what he would be like.

Remi spoke up, breaking the silence between them all. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jim. Thank you for having us over on such short notice.”

Max’s father looked over to where Remi’s voice had come from, following the sound of her.

“Well, you don’t sound like I remember from the phone call. Your voice was a bit deeper last time we spoke,” Jim joked, hinting at Max not saying anything, and Remi gave the man’s joke a small laugh.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over,” Max finally said.

“It was long overdue, kid. Have a seat. Nancy will get us all a beer and you can start your interrogation. How does that sound?” his father asked, and without agreeing verbally, he and Remi took a seat at the small dining room table.

“So, how’s your mom these days?” Jim asked, and it felt like a strange introduction to the conversation, but Max was grateful he didn’t have to get the ball rolling.

“I don’t know what you remember about her,” Max said.

“Not much to be honest. Me and her were never a love match. She was from money, and I was young, dumb, and drunk most nights. You weren’t something we planned for.”

“A mistake,” Max said under his breath.

“That’s one way of putting it,” his father agreed.

Remi ran her hand over Max’s thigh before pressing it firmly against his knee that had begun to bounce anxiously, trying to calm his nerves.

“So, when you met my mom, was your vision already going?” Max asked.

His father took a long drink from his can of beer with a chuckle. “We’re diving right into the vision stuff then?” his dad teased.

“With all due respect, I am twenty-six years old and going blind. I think diving in this late in my life is the least you can do to help me understand what the fuck is about to happen to me.”

“Well, son,” the man started.

“I’m not your son,” Max bit back.

The man let out a gruff laugh. “Well, technically you are, but if you’d rather I didn’t call you that…”

“I’d rather you didn’t call me that,” Max said, cutting in. He wasn’t usually this aggressive, but something about this man in front of him, with his brown lab at his side, another lab at his feet, and two small dogs on a dog bed under the table; it made Max angry.

“Well then, to answer your question, when I met your mom, I was already noticing signs, but I chalked it up to being drunk, hungover, or hungry. I was young, dumb, and in denial.”

“When did you finally find out you had… it?” Max asked, avoiding calling a spade a spade.

“I found out I had it, ” his father said, also avoiding using the proper medical term, and Max couldn’t tell if he did so to mock him or out of respect for him. He didn’t know the man and didn’t expect to understand his humor after five minutes with him. “I found out when I was twenty-three. I couldn’t see at night by that point, and if it wasn’t up against my nose, it would be blurry. I thought I just needed glasses, but instead, it landed me with a walking cane.”

“How long?” Max asked.

“How long what? How long do you have left in the game? Until you can’t drive? How long do you have left to watch a movie, a sunset or to see your own two feet?”

Max’s hands curled into fists.

“How long until I’m blind?” Max said, because that was what this all came down to. He would lose everything, but the end game was losing his vision completely, and Max needed to know how long he had to enjoy what he had left.

“Mine went completely by thirty. You could be different. Not everyone loses it entirely, but genetics say you might.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Max asked.

“Sooner?” his father asked.

“At all. Why didn’t you tell my mom? I spent my whole fucking life training for this sport, this fucking game. Chasing the Cup that one day I won’t be able to see. If you had told me sooner, maybe I wouldn’t be here. Maybe I wouldn’t want it so bad or love it so much.”

Max felt his eyes grow hot with tears. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Remi, not in front of his father and his wife and their nineteen fucking stray dogs.

“If you had known sooner you never would have made it this far with the NHL, because you would have given up before you made it. Wouldn’t you rather have had a taste of it, than to never have experienced it at all?”

“No. Because no loss in this lifetime will ever be as great as this one. I’m going to suffer when I tell my team this is my final year. I’ll have to announce my retirement. I’ll eventually skate onto that ice knowing it will be my last time. Nothing will ever hurt worse than giving up that fucking net.”

“I think you’re wrong, Max.”

“Well, you don’t fucking know me, so you don’t get to think anything about me.”

His father cleared his throat and went on. “I think you're wrong in thinking the biggest loss of your life is losing this sport. The biggest loss of your life would have been to never have gotten to play it. You’re a goalie for the NHL, you know how many young men dream of that? And you achieved it. It’s not about how long you got to do it, but that you got to. I know I wasn’t a father to you. Your mom didn’t make it easy, and I’d be lying if I said I tried. The truth is, I passed on some shitty genetics, and for that, I’ll always be sorry, but I’ll never apologize for not telling you this sooner, because you would have started living in the future and forgot to live in the present.”

Max felt his stomach drop.

He didn’t have it in him to tell his father that he hadn’t lived his life in the present anyway. He thought of his sterile, pictureless home, and the relationships he had denied himself, with teammates, friends, and women, and how he hid from them all until he met Remi. He thought about the ocean, mere feet away from his back door, and how he had taken it for granted, until now. He thought about each sunset he closed the curtains on, and each sunrise he slept through.

He thought about the Cup, and how if he held it now, before things got too bad, he might be able to see the flash of the lights against the crisp, clean silver and how he might still be able to make out the names of the men who came before him. He knew he had to be honest with his team, even if it broke his heart, even if it broke theirs . He knew the only way they would have a chance at the Cup was by him walking away from it.

Max looked at his father and noticed the gentle line on his brow, Max had that line too. He noticed the way he seemed okay, relaxed, happy even, surrounded by his wife and his rescue dogs in his comfortable home, with his mobility cane close by.

Was there a life after hockey?

Yes.

Was there a happy life after hockey?

He looked over at Remi and she gave him a simple smile, her single dimple a reminder of the first time he met her, stumbling over his own two feet, breaking the lamp; the writing was on the wall. It had been for a while now. The wheels were in motion long before he accepted it. And like his father, he had chalked up his condition to anything else: anxiety, low blood sugar, not enough sleep. But it was time to face the music. It was time to see it for what it was, no pun intended. He needed to talk to the right doctors, get the diagnosis on paper, and take his first step toward helping his team win the Cup without his skates, pads, or his custom mask and stick. Without him in front of the net.

“Thank you,” Max finally said. “I know this hasn’t been easy for either of us.”

“It hasn’t been, but maybe we can try our hand at this whole relationship thing over time. I know I won’t ever be a father in your eyes, but maybe I can be a friend, and a sounding board as you navigate this new way of life.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Max said, and he wasn’t being cruel, he just wasn’t sure he could commit to anything with this man just yet. Not now. Not when he had so much to unpack that didn’t involve long-lost parents and emotional voids he carried since childhood.

“That’s more than I can ask for,” his father agreed.

Nancy appeared as if on cue. “Should I see them out?” she asked knowingly.

“Yeah, Nance, I think we’re done here.”

“Bye, Jim,” Remi offered, “thanks again.” He didn’t say anything in return, he just gave her a nod before they turned to leave the cramped kitchen.

The sun was long gone when they got out to the car.

“Thanks for driving, Rem.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek

“I don’t mind driving, you know that.”

“I know. But while it’s just me asking you to drive at night for now, there will be so much more that I’ll have to ask of you later,” he warned.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hold you back,” he said quietly.

She pulled him in to kiss her, a kiss fueled by reassurance, leaving no room for doubt in the way her lips praised his.

“The only way you’re holding me back is by not getting in the car fast enough. I need a donut and the beach, and I need you, as you are, as you will be, no matter what, Max Miller.”

“Yes… to everything,” he said.

“Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. Now get in the car right meow.”