Page 99 of The Understatement of the Year

I got him the painkillers and a fresh glass of water. Then I removed his socks and sweats, and tucked him into bed. Stripping down to my boxers, I climbed in after him. Graham scooted backwards, fitting his back against my chest. I dropped my arm over his body, and a kiss on the back of his neck.

“I might not be worth the trouble,” he mumbled.

I stroked my hand across his belly, dragging my thumb through the fine hair of his happy trail. “I know you feel like shit right now,” I said. “But you’ve got nowhere to go but up.”

“Hope so.” He was quiet for a few minutes, and I thought he’d fallen asleep. “Rik?” he said, surprising me.

“Yeah?”

“Love you. Always have.”

I was so stunned that I couldn’t do anything for a moment except lie there and replay the sound of his words in my head. Then I laughed. “Fuck, G. You might evenbeworth the trouble.” I hugged him a little tighter. “You’re the second person to say that to me tonight, though. Your mom beat you to it.”

“You’ll have to let her down easy,” he said.

I grinned into my boyfriend’s neck, and then I held him while we both fell asleep.

—Graham

Saturday night, Mom and I watched the hockey game on a big screen TV in the lobby of the college conference center where she was staying.

It was trippy, watching my team on television, knowing that I ought to be there with them. The helplessness was almost unbearable. I’d never been more nervous for a game in my entire life.

The first period was non-scoring, and I almost lost my mind. But Rikker shot one between the goalie’s legs early in the second period, and Mom and I laughed and cheered like a couple of lunatics. But then Colgate followed up with a goal of their own. And I was back to being a nervous wreck for the rest of the second period and part of the third.

Finally, a freshman D-man (A freshman! A defensive player!) scored with an assist from Hartley. And the other team never got its mojo back. By the time the buzzer rang, I was hoarse from yelling at the screen.

Mom flopped back against the sofa. “That was exhausting. When is the next game? I’m going to need to prepare myself.”

“In a week,” I said. “There are two ACAA Eastern Seaboard elimination games. If we’re still standing after that, it’s off to the Frozen Four.”

How crazy was that?

After saying goodnight to Mom, I headed back to Beaumont, dialing Rikker as I walked. Since he was in a loud, joyous locker room somewhere, my call went to voicemail. I left him a message, telling him how awesome it was that he’d scored that goal, and how badly I missed him.

The last block back to Beaumont was the loneliest of my life. And Rikker must not have gotten my message until late. Or else he wasn’t alone. Because he didn’t call back.

The next day had me feeling pretty stir-crazy. After spending way too many hours trying to get me ready for the history midterm, Mom and I were annoyed with each other. We’d just come back from a bite out at the sushi place. I’m sure she would have left me alone for the evening already, except she’d left her book in my room. “And that’s what I usually do after I read to you all day,” she said. “Read some more.”

“I’m sorry, Ma,” I said. It didn’t sound like fun for her either.

She just smiled. “I know we’ve had a couple of tough weeks, and that your head still aches. But a couple of years from now I’m going to look back on this time like a gift. When your kids grow up, they don’t need you anymore. I don’t mind a bit of drudgery for one more shot at helping you.”

At that, I felt myself tearing up again. Oh, the joys of concussion. Everything made me either mad or turned me into a total pussy.

I turned on my TV, sifting for a hockey game. Although I’d settle for basketball if necessary. Mom was gathering her things when somebody knocked.

“It’s open,” I said.

Rikker came in the door. “Hey G. Hi, Mrs. G.”

“Johnny! Congratulations!” My mom ran over to hug him.

I stayed put, of course. It’s not that I didn’t want a hug. But there wasn’t going to be any kind of PDA in front of my mom. Ever.

“You look tired, honey,” Mom said to Rikker.

He grinned. “Well, ouch. But you look fabulous.”