49. DMITRI

49

DMITRI

I listened to her audio message on loop on my way to the airport. She doesn't pick up her phone when I call, probably busy doing something important in Seattle. So I send her an audio.

Princess. I—fuck this is hard. Thank you for your message. The truth is, I came to see my dad because he spent the night in county jail. For drunk and disorderly conduct.

(There's a pause.)

He drinks. My dad. Because he can't play hockey. You might think I've hated him for it, but for the longest time, I just tried to understand. See, my dad had the crowd screaming his name for five games before his leg broke and his career ended.

I know what you're thinking. Get over it, right? When I was a shit teenager, I screamed the same thing to him. Get fucking over it. But he didn't. He couldn't hold down a proper job, and he hated… He hated being a regular person, I think. To him it meant being forgotten or something.

It got worse when his old team won the Cup without him. I think I was ten. We were in a house with no heat on. We barely had any money left. He was a wreck. Drunk. Sobbing.

I thought he was going to die on me. He was a walking zombie. Sometimes—fuck—I don't want to admit this, but I wished… I wished he would get up and leave. It had to be easier than cleaning up after him.

(A long pause.)

I'm going to break a record for the longest audio, Kavi, but I want to get this out. You deserve to know I'm not… I don't know how to fix him. He eventually drinks again, even though there are tricks to keep it from happening too often. I can make him slow down or stop for a long while. I learned that as a teenager. He enjoys talking about the good days, going over his best plays, talking about how the recruiters picked him because they saw his potential to be a star.

What he likes more is building up my career. He bought me a net, even when we didn't have money, so he could watch me hit the puck for hours. And I did. Even if I was hungry or tired or—-at least, he wasn't drinking.

I think the only reason I got as good as I am is because of him. Because eventually a recruiter noticed me. It happened.

My dad gave me his dream to carry on.

There are days I wonder if that peace I get on the rink… if it's in my genes or because it gives me back the control I craved growing up. It gave me a way to fix him. It's my safety. Where I go to stop thinking. Is that happiness? Fuck if I know, but I had to keep playing, no matter the cost. I ? —

(Clears throat.)

I—Yeah—Okay.

(A rough chuckle.)

This was a lot. Don't feel like you have to answer. Can you tell me you're okay in Seattle? Better yet, tell me what I can do to help. How did your interview go, Princess?

I'm waiting for you…your answer… you… to answer.

A whispered: Fuck.

And then the audio ends.