Smokeshow: A Hockey Love story

by Miller, Raine

  The alternative, I suppose, is that they get put into children’s protective services or split up in some shitty foster home somewhere. I can’t stomach that. No way.

  But Ma is right about one thing. I’m barely a functioning adult myself. I can’t take care of two little kids, can I? The idea of it is totally crazy. Still, they're my brother and sister, my blood. The only blood family I have. And they’re so small. Fuck this world. I don’t want them growing up in some dump with filth and drugs and predators all around. I want them to have good lives and futures, far, far the fuck away from the shitshow life they've been trapped in. I want them to get out like I did.

  I call my attorney, Jack Engelland, and explain my situation.

  “I know your job is to handle, like, contracts and shit, but I don’t know who else to call, Jack. I’m backed against a brick wall here.” I’m not opposed to begging after telling him the whole, crazy fucked-up story. “I can’t just leave the kids to the system, not when they have me—I mean, I’m their brother and I have the means to take care of them. At least until we find a better solution.”

  “No problem, man,” Jack reassures me. He’s a fairly young guy. I’ve even partied with him. He knows me and he knows when I’m being serious. “I’ll make some calls. Figure out what’s going on and report back with options. I do know someone who can at least give you the basics. She’s a social worker in Boston, and the wife of one of my law school buddies. Her name’s Winter Blakney and she’ll know how to get the ball rolling.”

  “Thanks, man. Sorry for calling you in the middle of the damn night.”

  “No worries. Call you as soon as I get some intel.”

  We hang up and I pace the room like a caged animal. I have so much unspent energy, so much anger and worry and frustration. See, this is why I compartmentalize my life the way I do. I keep my mom and her bullshit in a separate box. I’ve spent ninety percent of my life fucking around, because fucking around is a helluva lot better than feeling the way I feel right now.

  I consider going out. There are probably after parties happening around town. I could find a nice, little puck bunny to stick my dick into. Let off some steam. Get a release. I should’ve been out partying with my teammates tonight. We fought for that win. We pulled it out. But damn, now I’m here in my hotel, sick with worry for two kids that I hardly even know.

  I should’ve been more involved. Maybe I should’ve tried harder, moved them out to Vegas with me, Ma included. She hasn’t been right for a long time. I guess I just felt that staying away and staying out of their lives for the most part was the best way to keep the stress and anxiety at bay. I always felt like even though my mom was making shitty choices, the kids were still okay. Getting what they needed, but that’s not the case. They're neglected and possibly suffering abuse.

  And the guilt overtakes me like a toxic cloud seeping into every crack and fissure of vulnerability I own.

  You play a game with a stick, son. Anyone could do that.

  You’re lucky they took a chance on you, son. You wouldn’t have amounted to much more than that anyway.

  Glad you left when you did. I didn’t need another mouth to feed, son. ’Specially a useless one like you.

  Was she like that with the kids now? Fuck. I’d been kidding myself. If the first chance to take my siblings to one of my matches ended with her hawking shit for cash, then Haley and Logan have always been in harm’s way. And I’ve been oblivious. Have run as far away as I could so I wouldn’t have to see it firsthand.

  I left before they were born. I barely acknowledged they existed at first. I mean, shit, I was a freshman in college when Haley was born. A junior when Logan came along. Ma was young when she had me, like eighteen. She was in her mid-thirties when she had another baby, with a guy she said was good, who would stick around. I can only guess if he’s Logan’s dad, too, but he beat feet soon after the little guy was born, and Ma went way downhill after that. I just couldn’t deal with it. I had pro teams looking at me, a chance to make something of myself with the only thing that ever made any sense in my life.

  I think about calling Zoya again. I want to call Zoya again. Because she…listens. No one has ever really listened to me. But then again, have I ever really had anything to say? Hookups. Drunken parties. No. I can’t bug her with this shit. I mean, she calls herself my BFF, but I think she just says it to make sure I know the boundaries. Friend zone, only.

  I make myself lie down on the couch, falling into one of those fitful sleeps that doesn’t ever feel like real sleep at all. Because it isn’t.

  Straight-up fuckin’ dream warfare.

  * * *

  When my phone rings again, I sit bolt upright, my heart about to lunge out of my chest. It’s Jack, and it’s nine in the morning.

  “Okay, I located the kids. Children’s services interviewed them. I guess they spent the night in a holding cell, which has got to be goddamn terrifying, and I gave them an earful about it, believe me.”

  “But they’re okay?”

  “Far as I can tell. The report indicates they were supposed to watch their brother play hockey when their mother decided to sell the tickets, so there is confirmation from them that you’re their sibling. The person from children’s services says your mom will be held until her initial hearing. They think she’ll have several charges to contend with, possession of methamphetamine, child endangerment times two, a fraud charge, and a charge for assaulting an officer. It doesn’t look good for her, probably at least eighteen months in jail. So, I asked for emergency, temporary custody for you until we can get a lay of the land and figure out a longer-term solution that works for everyone.”

  It hits me like a ton of bricks. Temporary custody. Of two small children. Holy fuuuuck. Is this the right thing? Should I be doing this?

  “Yo, Tyler, you still with me?” Jack’s voice penetrates through the shock. “This is what you want, right? They said they can put the kids into foster care, but it’s always better if a family member can take them in. I figured that was what you wanted.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe. “Yep. Yes. That’s what I want. Tell me what’s next.”

  “I got a hold of Winter, the social worker I told you about, and she’s now the case manager of record. I’ve texted you her info. She’ll bring the kids over to the hotel, interview you, talk about options and next steps with you. I can call you back if it gets into a legal conversation. I’ll stay at the ready.”

  “Thanks, Jack, you’re saving my life right now.”

  “I’ve got you. But do have the conversation with Brown and Bellikowski as soon as you can. You’ll have to stay in Boston for a while to get this sorted. Get team management up to speed with what’s going on with you. Family takes precedence over sports. Remember that. We’re not living in the dark ages anymore. They’ll support you through this so don’t worry about that part, but do let me know if you need me to intervene. Talk to you soon.”

  * * *

  “I’m giving you two weeks to get back on the ice, Lockhardt,” Coach says on the other end of the line. “This family matter is a good thing you’re doing, but we need you back here, too.”

  “I got ya, Coach. I want to be out on the ice with the guys as well."

  “Make sure you check in with Dale on your daily workouts, so you stay in game shape. No snacking on donuts out there, son. Keep it tight and keep us in the loop, please.”

  Chuckling, I promise Coach to work out daily and "keep it tight" as he said. I thank him again for the time off. After I hang up, I find myself rubbing absently at an ache pounding away in my chest. Heartburn, maybe? This shit is stressful. Two emotionally packed phone calls have my head good and spinning. I need a shower. I need to put on something other than a T-shirt and workout shorts. The kids might be hungry. I’m hungry.

  After ordering a ton of room service, I take a quick shower and throw on a nice shirt and some jeans. The food comes, and just a few minutes later, there’s another knock at the door.
<
br />   A drop-dead gorgeous woman with long dark hair and a medium-sized baby bump stands there with Logan and Haley, one in each hand. Not at all what I’d expect a social worker in Southie to look like, but what the fuck do I know about anything right now. She’s brought them here and they’re safe.

  “Tyler Lockhardt?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Winter Blakney and I have two sweeties here who really want to see you.” The kids both look scared and tired as they hold on to her, their little faces so small and innocent that I can’t help but crouch down to their level. They instantly step forward and I pull them into a tight hug.

  “You guys okay?” I whisper.

  Both of their heads bob up and down.

  “We got arrested!” Haley exclaims.

  “Did they put the cuffs on ya?” I ask, trying to keep it light.

  “They put us in the back of a police car,” she says, wide-eyed.

  “Well, let’s go inside. I have breakfast for you.”

  “Hungry!” Logan yelps, bounding inside.

  I invite Winter in, and we sit on the couch, the array of food on the coffee table in front of us. After helping the kids fill their plates, they dive in like they haven’t been fed in days. For sure nothing as tasty and as healthy as this spread. It makes me feel fuckin' sad. It also makes me realize something… I am doing the right thing. Even if this is terrifying for me, it’s nothin’ to what’s been going on for these two little guys.

  I tell Winter to help herself to anything she’d like, and she opts for some herbal tea and a muffin. Pregnant women need food regularly throughout the day, right? I don’t want to be a burden to her straight off the bat, but I’m guessing she only took on this case as a favor to Jack. And I'm pretty fuckin' sure being woken up in the middle of the night wasn’t on a pregnant lady’s list of shit to do today.

  “Thank you. I just want you to know how much I appreciate your help, Winter. I don’t know where to really even start with this and Jack said he knew you so...” My words sort of peter out, pathetically, exactly like I feel right now.

  “No worries, Tyler. This is my job and I love doing it. Helping families through tough times is what it’s all about, you know?”

  I nod slowly a few times, unsure of what to even say. Right now, I figure it’s best for me to just listen to her and learn everything I can.

  “So, the purpose of my visit is to assess the best course of action to take in the temporary placement of Haley and Logan during the absence of your mother. I’m here to talk to you and get a feel for your relationship with Haley and Logan and find out what your wishes are. I’ll have to make a recommendation to the court, so this is the first step in that process.”

  “Got it.” I nod again, the limit of my ability to react intelligently, apparently. Fuck.

  She smiles gently and takes a sip of her tea before reaching over to help Logan put some strawberry jam on an English muffin. Then she shows him how to use the napkin to wipe the sticky off his hands.

  I almost have to blink back the tears that threaten to bust out of my eyes. The kids don’t even know the basic manners of how to eat a goddamn meal. Jesus.

  “So, Tyler...the kids have shared some pretty concerning stuff with us since we brought them in last night.” She says this without judgment, but I still feel the heavy weight of it settling over me.

  “I’m not sure I want to hear the details, but I doubt it’s much different than what I experienced growing up.”

  “Multiple men in and out of the house. Drug use, though they don’t understand that’s what they’re seeing. Some instances of physical abuse and neglect. Often being left alone for hours on end, not knowing where Mom is. It’s been very scary for them.”

  Hot shame and guilt fill every cell in my body. No different than what my youth was like, and it makes me feel like the worst person ever that I didn’t step in, didn’t do more to get them out of the shitshow life they’re trapped in.

  Winter, who’s probably seen this sort of thing countless times, correctly reads my body language. “Hey, none of this is your fault, you know. You didn't cause the situation.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say, rubbing my hands over my face. I’m fucking exhausted, emotionally drained, and just feel like screaming to let out some of the tension. “I could’ve stepped in a long time ago, I suppose. I kept trying… got them a place to live but she trashed it. Bought her a car, but she sold it. Everything I did, I thought I was helping, and she always told me things were better and I wanted to believe her.”

  “It sounds like you did more than most people might,” Winter says softly. “So, the focus now is getting the kids into a stable environment. They need somewhere calm and consistent. You’re a professional hockey player. And before I go any further, I have to give you this disclosure. When I tell you I’m huge into hockey, you can believe me. I’ve followed the Crush and knew who you were long before today. My husband and I even met Georg and Pam Kolochev on our honeymoon. We were at the same island with them and so...yeah, I already know who you are just from following the team and being friends with Georg and Pam. Probably more than I should know about you if I’m being completely honest.”

  “Yeah.” I know where this is going. “I do travel a lot, but I feel like I can figure this out. At least for the time being. I’ve got a nice place in Vegas with a bedroom already set up for them. I eat healthy. There are good schools in the area. I can hire someone to stay with them when I’m on the road. I’ll do a background check, whatever.”

  “That all sounds great, but I can’t see just putting them on a plane today, Tyler. There are some legal hoops, some vetting, that we need to do.”

  “Yeah, I get that I guess…it’s just that I have a job back there, you know? I don’t live here anymore. I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “I know, and I think it will all be fine. What you’re offering is better than most of the alternatives. Even if it’s just for a few weeks or months while we find something more permanent. Or until your mother earns them back.”

  “I can’t—I don’t see that happening. She gets clean for short spurts but never for long. Never permanently.”

  “I have to confess, I googled you and had a look at what popped up…”

  “And you found a bunch of pictures all over social media of me and women and booze?”

  “Yep.” She grins at me but it’s not in a mean way, thankfully. Winter Blakney has got to be the coolest social worker in the whole fucking world. “You might want to tone that down going forward though.”

  “Done. The kids are more important right now.”

  Winter sucks her lips in and considers this—me—for a long moment. It unnerves me but I don’t flinch away from the scrutiny. She’s doing her job; she has to make a decision about me to recommend to the court. I get it.

  “I’m happy to hear it, Tyler, but here’s another question for you. How is a twenty-four… five—twenty-something hockey player supposed to upend his life for two kids?”

  “I'll work it out. I don't pretend to have all the answers about how I'll work it out, but I know I'll get there. Lots of the guys on my team have kids now. They learn how to be parents and play pro-hockey at the same time. Why can’t I?”

  “Do you have a partner or spouse?”

  “No, but I have friends. I have teammates who can give me advice and recommendations. I have a university education and a brain too, in spite of appearances. I'm financially stable. I set up trust funds for the kids that no one even knows about so they can go to college one day. I invest well and I don’t overspend. I can figure this out. I am committed to figuring it out.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Any questions for me?”

  I’m blank—fuck, what should I be asking? I look at Haley and Logan, who have sat quietly and eaten as we’ve spoken. I imagine this isn’t how they always behave, but what the hell do I know? Fucking nothing.

  “Um, what grade i
s Haley in? I feel so stupid asking that, Winter, but I haven’t stayed close. Are they okay? Did a doctor check them? Do they sleep in beds? I used to sleep on a mattress on the floor for a while, so I don’t even know if Ma gave them beds…”

  As I hear Winter’s gasp, my head snaps up to her.

  “We’ll find out all of those things, okay? My heart just broke about your bed when you were small. Or lack thereof. We need to go to their home and investigate more. Then we can grab clothes and toys while we’re there. And just so you know, you’re saying all of the right things. Good job, you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief so long and loud she laughs at me. At what must look like one shell-shocked dude in so far over his dumb, fucking, head, he’s underwater. But her laughter is kind, so I don’t mind a bit.

  “So, here’s the gig. I need you to stay in Boston for a few days. James, my husband, will get an emergency custody hearing set up and you’ll say everything you told me to the judge. If he agrees, which I think he will, then we’ll get dispensation for you to take them out of the state, at least temporarily. Then you can take them home with you to Vegas.”

  “Okay. I’ve already spoken to my coach. He’s going to frontload the rest of the coaching staff and our GM. I’ve been granted two weeks family leave to get the kids settled with me in Vegas. I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this work. Whatever it takes.”

  “You're saying all of the magic words I needed to hear from you, Tyler.” Winter knocks me out with her million-dollar smile again and I know I hit the motherfucking lottery with her being our case manager. Small world though that she knows Georg and Pam. What are the chances of that? And bonus she’s a hockey fan, because I doubt someone older and more jaded would've given me chance to help the kids.

  “I’m so grateful for your help, Winter. Thank you, thank you, thank you...for this. I won’t let them down.” I wanna hug her I’m so grateful, but I don’t. Not a moron.