Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
We finished our morning skate, and I debriefed with my assistant coaches after. Today’s game is monumental because it’s against my former team when I was a player—the Toronto Blazers. Gage also played with them, although he hadn’t been with the team long before Melissa got sick, so I didn’t get to know him all that well. We both share in the nostalgia, though.
I have about an hour to eat lunch, and I plan on spending some time cleaning out my emails. Then it’s off to review the last bits of video we’ll be playing at a short team meeting before the guys suit up.
Moving to my desk from the conference table where I’d been sitting with my assistant coaches, I pick up my phone and see a missed call from my mom.
I decide to call her back as I walk over to the team meeting room where there will be a massive spread of food set out for the players.
It’s a Thursday, so Mom will be at work, but since she’s the boss, I’m not worried about interrupting her. She answers quickly. “How’s my sweet boy?”
“Hardly a boy.” I laugh as I exit my office and head down the hall. “I saw you called.”
“Just wanted to hear your voice. And wish you good luck with today’s game.”
“I appreciate it. How’s everyone there?” I listen to my mom hand out updates on everyone in the family, including the grandkids. I reach the players’ room but don’t enter since I’m still on the phone, instead moving past it for privacy and leaning up against the wall.
“Are you sure you can’t come home for Thanksgiving?” my mom asks.
I texted her yesterday letting her know I was going to stay in Pittsburgh. I didn’t give a reason why, although the reason is Ava and we’ve made plans to spend it together. I probably need to tell my mom about her, since I guess it’s considered pretty serious. I know my mom will think so, given that I’m going to spend a holiday with her and not my family.
“Or maybe we can all fly there to Pittsburgh,” my mother offers.
“No,” I exclaim, and then grimace because that came off harsh. I lower my voice and say, “I’m actually spending Thanksgiving with someone.”
My mom gasps in surprise and then laughs with delight. “Oh, tell me everything, Cannon. What’s her name? How did you meet her? Are you going to cook together or will you go out? Tell me everything.”
Chuckling, I move farther down the hall, away from players going in and out of the room. Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and tell my mom all about Ava Cavanaugh.
When I’m done, my mother makes a sound of joy. “You know, I’ve been waiting a long time for you to call me and tell me you met someone.”
“I’ve met girls before,” I say.
“But none you ever told me about,” she chastises, and I can see her patented mom look in my mind. “And it makes me happy that you have someone special enough to tell me about.”
There’s no doubt, Ava has definitely moved squarely into the category of special. “You’d really like her, Mom. When y’all are able to make a trip here, I’ll definitely introduce you.”
“Can I give you some mom advice?”
“Always.”
“Remember the mistakes you made in your marriage to Melissa, and make sure you don’t make them again.” My heart melts for those words because my mother means them only to soothe my conscience. When Melissa got sick, I felt incredibly guilty about not making my marriage work. My mom knew that, and she knew all the ways I felt I’d failed as a husband. On the flip side, she knew all the ways Melissa had failed too. It was not one person’s fault over the other.
My mom is specifically talking about communication, making sure I am always clear and truthful about my needs. It goes without saying, but I need to be sure Ava does the same. It also might mean something else. I probably could’ve put forth greater effort into giving Melissa more of my attention. I could’ve given up extra practices and free skates with the guys, hanging out with the other players during our free time to develop camaraderie, working out with my buddies constantly. There were bits and pieces of time I could’ve given to her, but would it have been enough?
Probably not, but then again, my mom isn’t talking about me saving my marriage. She’s reminding me to learn from my mistakes.
“Thanks, Mom. You know I trust your wisdom.”
“You don’t need it. You’re a smart and intuitive man, and I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” She pauses and then asks, “Have you talked to Connie lately?”
“A few times.” My mom knows about that awful call the day before the anniversary of Melissa’s death, as well as the stilted call we had the next day. “It’s the same old, same old.”