Page 7 of Untouchable Player
“I know, but you’re always at class, or up in your room studying. And your brother’s always at practise, or away playing exhibition games in Europe.”
Yes, that was tough on her this summer. As much as she fusses over me, we all know Harrison is the golden boy. There was a point where my homework got too complicated for her to understand, but she’ll always know how to talk to Harrison about what he loves.
“How’s school?” she asks.
“Fine.”
She rolls her eyes, “I thought you’d stop these one-word answers when you turned 20.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not a teenager anymore.”
She watches me chew and the silence in the room is too much.
“It’s hard,” I say.
She leans forward and frowns, a pose I think she learnt from her therapist. I wait for her to say something therapy-like, but thankfully she doesn’t.
“But it’s worth it,” I say, “all the studying, it will be, when I graduate.”
Mom nods. She doesn’t say it, and maybe she’s not even thinking it, but I hear,and then what?
“You’re so smart Nate,” she says, “I’ve never had to worry about you.”
She looks at me and something flickers in her eyes. I think I see what she’s thinking. Me lying in bed for weeks after being rejected by my dream college. Did she worry about me then? Iremember her trying to bring me sandwiches. Trying to force me to eat. I feel bad for putting her through that.
I smile, “you don’t have to mom,” I say, “I’m fine.”
“Good, now you just need a nice boyfriend and it’ll be perfect.”
“Mom, please.”
“What? You’re such a handsome boy, I don’t understand why you’re still single.”
Thankfully, I’ve finished eating. I bring my plate to the sink and rinse it with my back turned.
“Don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you mom, I just don’t have time to date.”
“Your brother dates.”
I snort. Harrison does not date, he fucks puck bunnies at frat parties, there’s a difference. I can’t say that to my mom.
“Harrison’s the captain of the hockey team.”
“So what?”
I almost point to my own skinny body and tell her,and I look like this,but I couldn’t bear to see the sad look on her face, or the long, drawn-out hug she’d subject me to as she stroked my hair and told me how beautiful I am. Having boys was definitely wasted on my mom.
“So…socialisingis part of his thing, and he doesn’t have to get the grades I do, he’s going to be playing in the NHL one day.”
When I turn around, she’s beaming with pride and something sinks in my stomach. I don’t have any logical reason to be jealous of Harrison. I can’t think of anything worse than playing ice hockey as a career. Getting beat up as part of my job? No thanks. And yet…
“Can I have my books back now?”
Mom squints like she’s thinking about refusing.