Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Clapping my hands together, I turn back to the galley as the smell of coffee fills the air. I open the drawer and take out my big white coffee mug, filling it with coffee. “You ready?” I look over at Beatrice, who is sitting at the door. I grab the leash from the couch by the door before unlocking it and sliding it open. The cool air hits me right away. “Oh, it’s chilly this morning,” I observe, walking out and sliding on my boat shoes. The sound of the water hitting the boat is almost peaceful. Birds chirping can be heard. “Let’s go,” I say, walking to the side and stepping off the boat to the dock.
I wait for Beatrice, who jumps off the boat like it’s no big deal. The sun is slowly starting to peek out of the sky. “Another day.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Another dollar.” We walk down the dock to the end of our row, turning to the left and strolling to the metal walkway that leads up to the street.
I press the button to open the security gate to the outside parking lot. The door opens, and we slowly take our morning walk. I look down at all the boats, all the slots now filled up. When I came in from the Gulf Coast three weeks ago, four or five boats were docked. But as the weather started getting nicer and nicer, more and more boats started coming into port.
I walk down the sidewalk, seeing the water calm as I drink my coffee. “What do you think, Beatrice?” I look over at the dog, who ambles next to me. “Is this year going to be as good as last year?” She looks down as she walks over to the corner and stops to pee. “I think so also.”
I laugh at my own joke as we walk quietly down the pier. How different the past two years have been for me. I shake my head and take a sip of the coffee. My heart speeds up a touch when I start to think about how different my life is. Two years ago, I was at the lowest point in my life. I was playing in the NHL, living the dream of so many people, yet inside every single day I was dying. My headspace was an absolute nightmare. I was in a downward spiral, and if I hadn’t gotten help, I would have been six feet under right now.
So what did I do? I hung up my skates and walked away from the game that brought me so much joy, but also kicked me all the way down into the black abysses. It was a vicious cycle, one that is not really talked about. It’s pushed under the rug, as they say, everyone knows what is going on, but no one has the balls to stand and say it. So I took myself out of the running. I shocked a lot of people when I walked away. My agent was the only one who knew the truth about why I was walking away from it.
Everything else was speculation, and even though I didn’t want to know, I heard through the grapevine and from eavesdropping on some conversations that the press spun it a totally different way. I also knew that there was nothing I could say to make anyone change their opinion of me. I learned that the hard way. There is nothing quite like waking up after a hockey game and seeing your name plastered on the front cover of the sports section because you sucked so bad. Not even my father knew what to say, not that I shared much with him. We had our ritual Sunday calls, which lasted a good four minutes, depending on the news that day, and that was it. I did my duty as a son to reach out to him, because I knew it was what my mom would have wanted.
Every single day I went through the motions of what it was to live. But what I really needed was someplace to go where I would be able to get out of my head and unplug. The ocean was that place. I had no idea, and when my therapist suggested renting a boat and going out onto the water, I did it solely to tell her I did it. But the minute we got out in the middle of the ocean, it just grounded me. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I needed to get my own boat.
For the last two years, I’ve been living on my boat. Was it a spontaneous purchase? Yes. Did I regret it? Not even for one freaking second. Let’s be honest, I’m not living on some rinky-dink boat. This one is a four-bedroom, three-bathroom, sixty-five-foot yacht. I laugh, shaking my head as I think about how I felt when I visited it. I knew the minute I stepped onto the boat I loved it. As I looked around, I tried to make excuses that this was too much boat for me. I was one person, after all. Why did I need four bedrooms? It’s not like I had any family who would come on board. But as I walked around the boat, it just felt like home. Which sounded silly at the time. Fuck, it sounds silly now. I left the boat and then went on a long walk. A walk where I tried to make a pros and cons list about having a boat. The only thing on the pro side was peace. Which I guess was enough for me because I got on the phone and made an offer. I then turned around and sold my house on Long Island. Sold the house as is, with everything in it, and bought a boat. I decided to focus on me, for the first time in a long time. I didn’t want the house or the memories it had anymore. I closed the chapter on that part of my life, and I was okay about it.