upset. “But I was so excited about this trip, and it was such a letdown.”
Voice incredibly droll, she says, “It was an overnight stay in a hotel, Mom. It wasn’t that big a deal.”
Oh, to be young and not understand love. I decide to educate her. “I was excited about it because I’d decided to ask your dad to come back home. To be a family again.”
Lucy’s jaw almost unhinges as she gapes in surprise, but then her expression softens as her lips peel into a smile. “That’s great, Mom. I mean, holy cow, I’ve been dying for this to happe—”
“Not sure it’s going to,” I cut in, sniffing at the prickles starting in my nose now. “I got really angry at your dad over him canceling. I mean, deep down… I knew it wasn’t his fault, but all of my old hurts just came gushing to the surface. I said some mean, awful and horrible things. I mean, I felt like I was being pushed aside again and I couldn’t control my temper.”
“Mom,” Lucy draws out. “You do know Dad didn’t have a choice.”
“Yes, of course, I do,” I assure her, although it took me a few hours after he left to admit that. “But I couldn’t stop the anger. All that hurt I’ve been suffering for years just came bubbling back up. I couldn’t see reason.”
“But you do now?” she asks hesitantly.
I shrug. “Maybe. Yes. I mean… I don’t know. Rationally, I know your dad had no choice. This is his job, and he had to uphold his duty to the team. But as we were fighting, I blurted something out to him that’s made me wonder how deep my hurt really goes.”
Lucy stares, head tilted for an explanation. I wonder briefly if I’m doing a disservice to my thirteen-year-old by unburdening, but then disregard that worry. Lucy is a bright, intelligent, empathetic teenager. She wants me and her dad to work more than anyone. If there’s going to be a bit of positivity that I might need, it will come from my daughter.
“In the heat of anger, I told him that maybe I didn’t like his whole career, not just the little times he’s let us down when hockey was more important.”
“And do you really feel that way? As we’re sitting here now, do you hate what he does for a living?”
I don’t answer her directly. Instead, I share her dad’s offer. “He said he’d quit after they found a replacement for him, or retire at the end of the year, if that’s what I wanted.”
Lucy gasps, horrified. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. I was so shocked he said that I couldn’t think of anything to say. And then he just walked out.”
“Oh, wow,” Lucy murmurs, and then to my shock, she leans back against the cushion and starts laughing.
I glare. “What’s so funny?”
Mirth in her expression, she says, “It’s just… Dad just offered you the world. Now I think it’s a stupid offer. He’s still got a lot of great years left to play hockey. Without a doubt, I know you’d never take that away from him. But I find it just a wee bit funny that instead of being totally charmed and blown away by his offer, you are sitting here crying with indecision and self-loathing over the way you acted. Ironic, right?”
I blink at my daughter.
And blink a few more times.
“When the hell did you get to be so adult-like with the wisdom?” I mutter.
She shrugs. “I’m a good judge of character and situations. I learned that from you, Mom.”
“So what do I do?” I ask, feeling like the thirteen-year-old and looking at Lucy for motherly advice.
“Okay,” she says, turning slightly on the cushion to look at me directly. “Point blank… let me ask you this… do you want Dad to quit hockey?”
“No,” I reply instantaneously, not needing to think about it. She’s right… I’d never ask him to give it up. Now, if I thought it would make me unhappy, I’d walk, but I truly don’t believe his career as a whole is the problem.
“Do you believe you and I are Dad’s number-one priorities?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say again with surety, but then take a moment to realize I’m surprised by how easy that came out. But that surprise doesn’t last long as I remember… that was the whole point of my excitement in going to the Ritz tonight. I was going to tell Jim I wanted him back.