Chapter 20

20

BEN

When my phone rings with an actual phone call, I assume the worst. Nobody ever calls me. My friends and family know better. I hate talking on the phone.

It’s Marc Miller.

Christ. I’m being traded. It’s only a few weeks until the trade deadline. Yeah, so what if they said they want me to be captain? They can trade anybody, anytime. I’m done.

“Hello?”

“Ben. Hi.”

“Hi, Mr. Miller.”

Mabel’s with me, sitting across from me in a coffee shop. She watches me, eyes wide.

There’s a brief pause and I close my eyes and try not to feel nauseous.

“I have some bad news,” he says.

I nod, my heart squeezing into my throat.

“There’s been an accident.”

My eyes open. I frown. “An accident?”

Mabel straightens.

“Yeah.” His voice is heavy. “A car crash. Carson and his wife and baby.”

My gut spasms. “Are they okay?”

Mabel’s forehead creases and she presses her fingers to her mouth.

“No.” He breathes out noisily. “Carson and Ayla are in the hospital.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I drop my head forward.

“Their baby… didn’t make it.”

My face changes. I feel it – a tightening, my head drawing back, my mouth going slack. My thoughts go murky. Did I really hear him right?

Mabel scoots over and sets her hand on my back, her expression worried.

I swallow thickly. “Oh my God.”

“Yes.” Mr. Miller’s voice chokes up.

My head is spinning. My gut is roiling.

“Who is it?” Mabel mouths.

I hold up a finger to her, afraid I’m going to puke.

“Carson’s going to be okay. Ayla too. But…” He stops. I sense him fighting for control. “But this is obviously going to be difficult for them.”

“Jesus.” I can’t even imagine. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it doesn’t work. I grab Mabel’s hand and hold on. She squeezes tight.

“I called you first,” Mr. Miller says. “I hope you can let your teammates know. I’ve talked to Gord.” He’s referring to Coach, Gord Bastien.

“What else can I do?”

“I… uh… we’ll need to support Carson, obviously.”

“Yeah. How long will he be in the hospital? Which hospital?”

“I don’t know how long. He’s at St. Matthews.”

“Okay.” I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know I need to sound like I do. “I’ll take care of it. We’ll figure out a plan.”

A plan? For what? Their baby is dead. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Thanks, Ben. We’ll talk again. I’ll let you know if I hear anything more.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I end the call and stare at Mabel’s distressed face. “Alfie,” I croak. “Him and Ayla. They were in an accident. Car accident. Their…” I can’t say it. My throat closes up.

“What?” she whispers, squeezing my hand again. She waits.

I fight for control, my eyes burning. “Their baby died.”

“Oh, no.” She rears back, eyes wide, lips parted. “Oh my God.”

I nod, head bowed, blinking back tears.

“Oh, that’s so terrible.” She moves in closer and slides her arms around my waist, hugging me, leaning into me.

I just saw Alfie last night at the pinball tournament Mabel helped me arrange. We all had so much fun. Then I remember that conversation I had with him in the workout room. How in love with his baby boy he was. How it changed him. Holy. Fuck.

A baby. He’s dead.

What is wrong with the universe that something like this could happen?

I press the heels of my hands to my wet eyes. I’ve never experienced something like this, but I feel it like a knife in my chest. How will they survive this?

I absorb Mabel’s presence, her comfort, glad I’m not alone right now. When she sniffles, I realize she’s crying, too. “I don’t know them well, but that’s so tragic.”

“Yeah.” I choke out the word and hug her back, holding her tight. “I can’t believe it. It can’t be real. How could something that terrible happen?”

“I know. I know.” She strokes my hair, kisses my jaw.

“I have to let the other guys know.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know how to do that. I can’t do it. Right now.” I clear my throat.

“It’s okay. Take some time. This is hard.”

“Fuck.” I dash away more tears.

“Can I help? What can I do?”

“I… don’t know. Just be here.”

“I’m here.” She meets my wet eyes. Hers are shiny, too. “I’m here. Let’s go home. You can handle it there.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I have to do it before someone hears about this from the wrong source. But I honestly don’t know if I can.

Back at the condo, I say, “I think I’ll send a group text. Only because it’s faster.”

“Yeah. Then you can talk to everyone.”

“Okay.” Through a blur of tears, I compose my message. Before I hit send, I have the presence of mind to delete Alfie’s name. He doesn’t need to see that.

My phone blows up immediately, with texts and calls. I can’t even handle them all. While I talk on the phone with my earbuds, Mabel takes my phone and texts guys back. We end one call and answer another.

Everyone’s in shock. Nobody knows what to say or do. I have to take control even though I’m floundering in my own disbelief and grief.

“I need to call the hospital,” I tell Mabel. “I should go visit him.”

She bites her lip and nods, finds the number for St. Matthews, places the call and hands me the phone. I confirm Alfie’s still there and he’s in satisfactory condition. He can have visitors.

“Okay.” I exhale long and slow. “I have to go.”

She nods, bent over my phone again. “I’m telling everyone that.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want me to come?”

I hesitate a fraction of a second. “Yeah.”

“I will.”

We both stand. She grabs her purse and coat, hands me my jacket. I probably would have left without one.

I have a vague idea of where the hospital is, but Mabel brings up the directions on her phone and guides me there. We find a place to park and enter the hospital.

I hate hospitals.

I visited a bunch of kids in the hospital at Christmas. I hated it then, but I could handle it. I don’t know if I can handle this.

“You can do it,” Mabel whispers in the elevator, clasping my hand. Her smile is sad but reassuring. Her faith in me strengthens me.

Alfie’s in a private room. I don’t know where Ayla is. I should visit her, too, if I can.

“I’ll wait here,” Mabel says outside the door of his room. “But I’m here.” She holds my gaze.

“Thanks.” I kiss her cheek, close my eyes, briefly, then enter.

Alfie’s in bed. His face is bruised and cut and his left arm is in a sling. His eyes are closed.

I slowly approach the bed. If he’s asleep, maybe I shouldn’t wake him up? But his eyes flicker open hearing my footsteps. I stop beside the bed. We look at each other.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, my eyes stinging again. I grab his hand. “So sorry.”

He nods, his mouth tightening, and he closes his eyes again.

For once, I don’t need words. For once, I know my presence is enough. I know there’s nothing I can say. There’s nothing anyone can say.

I pull up a chair and sit in silence for a few minutes. Then I talk.

“I’ve let all the guys know,” I say, my voice low. “They’re all in shock. We’re here for you, man. Anything you need. We’ll do anything.”

He nods again. “Ayla?”

What does he mean? “I think she’s still here,” I say. “Want me to find out?”

“She’s here. I… I need to know she’s okay.”

“Hang on.” I jog to the door. Mabel’s leaning against the wall and snaps up straight when she sees me. “Can you find out about Ayla? Can he see her?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She hustles over to the nursing station.

I go back to Alfie. “Have you seen her at all?”

“No. They told me she had soft tissue injuries but… but she was in shock.”

I nod, trying to put things together.

Mabel comes in. She gives Alfie a warm sympathetic smile and I stand and walk closer to her to talk. We step outside the room. “She’s just down the hall. She’s okay. But she’s kind of… out of it.” She sucks on her bottom lip. “Um. They said she’s on a lot of medication. They’re going to bring her here.”

“Okay.”

I go back and tell Alfie that. I sit again. The smell of this place is making my stomach roll, not to mention the thought of Ayla being heavily medicated because her baby died. And Alfie’s not exactly in great shape either.

“Is your arm broken?” I ask.

“Yeah.” His voice is husky. “They need to wait for the swelling to go down to cast it.”

He won’t be playing for a while.

But who cares about that? I remember our conversation, how he talked about priorities changing. And I get it. Hockey? Who gives a shit when your child is dead? It doesn’t even matter a little bit right now.

“Yeah,” I finally say. “They’ll get you fixed up.”

I turn at a sound at the door and see Ayla in a wheelchair, dressed in a hospital gown, a nurse pushing it. Ayla’s face is… I don’t know how to describe it. I’ve never seen anyone so pale and so blank. Her eyes are empty. Her lips are nearly white. She looks vacantly at me, then at Alfie as the wheelchair nears the bed.

“Ayla.” He lifts his head and reaches out a hand.

I stand and move away.

Ayla doesn’t take his hand.

Something in my chest cracks painfully.

I can’t fucking bear this. I look helplessly at the nurse, who is much more composed than I am. She leans down to Ayla. “Talk to your husband, Mrs. Alford. He needs to see you.”

Ayla’s gaze drifts away. “Yes.” She doesn’t move.

I pull in a long, slow breath, inflating my chest, pushing down the sick feeling. Fuck.

“Okay, buddy.” I move back to the bedside. “I’m gonna go now. But I’ll be back. Okay? We’re all with you.”

He meets my eyes and the agony there nearly takes my knees out. He swallows and nods. “Thanks, man.”

I swipe at my nose and trudge out of the room.

In the hallway I go straight to Mabel and fold her into my arms.

She hugs me back. “It’s okay. I got you. You’ve got this.”

“No. This is so fucked up I can’t even…” My throat squeezes painfully. I stand silently, then collect myself and draw back. “Let’s go.”

The next day, everyone comes over to Smitty’s place.

I wanted to do something, but I’m fucking homeless right now, so I asked Smitty if I could invite the guys over. Luckily he agreed. He’s wrecked about this, too, which has distracted him from being pissed at me about Mabel.

The team did a press release and tomorrow’s game will have a minute of silence. But I felt I needed to get everyone together to talk about what’s happened. It’s a lot to process and I think we need to do it together. Mabel steps up like a champ and helps me with food and beverages, although a lot of the guys show up with a case of beer or a bottle of something. At least we have lots of chips and dip and other snacks.

Smitty’s living room is crowded, with all the seating filled including the stools at the counter, so some guys are sitting on the floor leaning against the windows or cross-legged. Everyone wants to talk, and there’s a lot of “what ifs” and predictions, some dire, some optimistic. Some guys get emotional – Turks has two kids of his own and Shawzy has three, and they’re both really shook.

I mostly just have to listen, and I do, taking in their emotions. It gets heavy. I have to admit, I was sad before this, but hearing everyone else’s grief devastates me. It’s like I’m taking it all on myself. It’s like I can feel their feelings.

I’ve noticed this before, like when my dad died. It was hard enough on me but dealing with the feelings of everyone in my family dragged me down into a really dark place for a while. That’s scary. But the thing that makes me know I’m going to be okay is having Mabel here.

It’s a late night and when everyone has eventually cleared out, I feel both good and totally fucking exhausted. Good, because we’re all here for each other. Comforting each other even though we’re all hurting. Exhausted because I spent every single one of my energy spoons on talking and listening and empathizing.

Mabel and Smitty are cleaning up the kitchen when I close the door on the last guest. I trudge toward them and collapse onto a stool.

“Are you okay?” Mabel asks, wiping the counter.

“Yeah. It’s… a lot.”

Smitty closes the fridge. “Thanks for doing that, man. I think it was needed.”

“Yeah.” I nod. I prop my elbows onto the counter and rest my head in my hands. “This sucks.”

“It does.” He shakes his head. “Okay, I’m going to bed. G’night.”

“Night, Marek.” Mabel runs a cloth under the water in the sink.

We’re quiet when he’s gone. She wrings out the dish cloth and hangs it on the sink, then turns to me. Her face is troubled. She glances down the hall where Smitty just walked, then moves toward me. She smooths her hand over my forehead, then my face. “You were amazing tonight.”

“I was?”

She nods, holding my gaze, draping her arms over my shoulders. She presses her soft lips to my temple. “You were. And I know it was hard for you.”

She does?

“You take on other people’s emotions,” she says softly, fingers in my hair. “It’s part of who you are. And it can be hard, when it’s something like this.”

I nod. “It’s a lot.” I lean my head on her shoulder. “I fucking hate this.”

“I know. It’s awful.” She lets out a slow exhalation. “I wish it never happened.”

“Me too.”

“I’m glad you were there for your teammates. I just…” She stops.

“What?” I look up at her.

Her pretty mouth pouts a little. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Because you need someone, too.”

Jesus.