Breaking Skin

by Debra Doxer

Rather than mail the tickets to Renee and Langley, Deedee offered to drive me down to Cooperstown this afternoon in her boyfriend’s van so I can hand deliver them when Langley’s at home. Although my relationship with my sister has improved, I don’t completely trust her, and I want Langley to know without a doubt that she is invited as my guest of honor.

  “Meet you outside,” Deedee says as she takes her envelope to her locker.

  Carefully, I put the four tickets inside my bag, put my pointe shoes away, and finish getting changed.

  When I step out onto the sidewalk, Deedee is standing there, absorbed by something on her phone.

  “Hey,” I call out.

  Her gaze swings to mine and she quickly lowers her phone with an oddly guilty expression.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” She gives me a half smile.

  I narrow my eyes. “It looked like there was something there you didn’t want me to see.”

  Deedee sighs loudly and after a moment, she takes her phone out again. “I guess you’ll find out anyway. Cole was on The Today Show this morning. I was watching a clip of it on YouTube.” She cringes slightly.

  I school my face to hide the jarring feeling I have, like I walked into a wall that wasn’t there a minute ago.

  “It’s okay. He’s hard to avoid lately.”

  Her expression turns sympathetic.

  Cole Dempsey’s image is ubiquitous around town these days. His picture is often in the newspaper, and he’s a talking head on various news programs. My heart squeezes each time I stumble across his likeness somewhere, and any progress I’ve made moving on from Cole is erased. He looks good too. So good, and so much stronger then when I last saw him. On television, he’s well-spoken and confident, like he was made for the spotlight.

  Not only has he gone public with his condition, he’s also become a fierce advocate for safety in youth sports. Anytime a sports figure is injured or CTE makes headlines, news organizations look to Cole to provide commentary for their stories.

  “Did you know he had this condition?” Deedee asks.

  “He has some symptoms, but there’s no way to know if it’s CTE.”

  She eyes me closely. “They say the symptoms can be pretty serious. Maybe it’s best that—”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Don’t say it. It’s not best. Not for that reason. I never would have left him for that reason.”

  “Okay,” she says quietly, taken aback.

  I lay my hand on my bag, over the pocket where I put the envelope. The two extra tickets inside are for Cole and whoever he’d like to bring to the performance. As a handsome bachelor and celebrity, Cole is also fodder for the gossip columns that have photographed him with the same attractive blond woman time and time again. She could be the woman Renee mentioned. The one he’s dating now.

  It hurts to see those photographs, and it hurts that all I know of Cole is what I see and hear in the media.

  Even with his newfound fame, Renee hardly ever speaks of him. Initially she voiced her surprise about his condition, the same way Deedee did, and she mentioned that she no longer runs into him because he’s never home with all the traveling his new position requires. But other than that, it’s like he never existed to her.

  Deedee and I climb into Ian’s van where she parked it on the street. Before we get on the freeway, we swing by my apartment to pick up Siegfried. I didn’t want to leave him cooped up all day, and I figured Langley would be pleased to see him.

  “Do you think Cole will be home when we get there?” Deedee asks.

  “No. I’ll leave the tickets in his mailbox. He probably won’t come anyway.”

  I look down at the envelope that sits on top of my purse and hope the tickets don’t make him angry. I’m not looking for anything from Cole. I only want him to know how much he helped me and inspired me. I finally got my solo, and he helped make it happen.

  When we finally turn into Renee’s driveway, Langley is sitting on the front steps waiting. She jumps up and yells back toward the house when she spots us. As soon as Siegfried hears Langley’s voice, he barks and clamors to get out.

  Deedee lets out a low whistle. “Is that his house?” she asks, nodding at Cole’s place next door.

  I tell her it is, recalling how similar my reaction was when I first saw it. Then I look away before too many memories can bombard me.

  I push open the door of the van and Siegfried jumps out first. He runs over to Langley, and she squeals in delight when he puts his front paws on her shirt and attempts to lick her face.

  Renee comes out of the house with a smile and a shake of her head. “She keeps begging me for a dog now. Thanks a lot.”

  “I could recommend a good shelter.” I grin and we give each other a quick hug.

  Renee looks well. She tells me she’s working her program and continuing with therapy. I introduce her to Deedee and wait until Siegfried is finished with Langley before I squeeze her tight and whisper, “Missed you, sweetie,” in her ear. Once I release her, I hold out my hand and present her with two tickets.

  “Are those what I think they are?” Langley asks.

  I nod and she cheers, grabbing them and holding them up.

  “When is the performance?” Renee asks.

  “In six weeks.”

  Deedee nudges me and points next door. I glance over to see Cole’s sister get out of her car and go into his house. Looking slim in fitted jeans, she must have had the baby. Cole is an uncle again and with Derek gone, I wonder if that was hard for him.

  “Is Cole home?” I ask.

  Renee shakes her head. “I don’t think so. When he’s away, his sister checks on the house for him.”

  The envelope with the remaining two tickets is in my pocket. I contemplate handing them to Lily instead of putting them in Cole’s mailbox, even though the prospect of facing her makes my insides curl with dread. If she hated me before, I’m sure her opinion hasn’t improved. But if I give the tickets to Lily, she may tell me something about her brother. That could be worth her ire.

  “I have something for Cole. Be back in a second.”

  Renee gives me a curious look and Deedee smiles her encouragement as I set off across the yard.

  The closer I get, the harder my heart pounds. My palms grow clammy and I lick my lips nervously as I approach the house. When my shoes hit the driveway, the front door opens and Lily steps out before turning to lock the door behind her. She descends a few steps and stops abruptly when she sees me there.

  “Hi,” I say, feeling jittery. “Congratulations on the baby.”

  She doesn’t respond as she continues down the steps and takes her time approaching me. “Can I help you with something?” she asks, perfectly polite but not at all friendly.

  I pull the envelope from my pocket. “We’re performing Sleeping Beauty this season. We open in six weeks. I brought tickets for Cole.” Too late, I recall Lily’s fondness for the ballet and wish I’d blown the rest of my savings on more tickets.

  Her eyebrows slowly arch upward, and I can see the irritation building in her eyes.

  I rush to explain. “The tickets are a thank-you for everything he did for me. I don’t want anything in return.”

  Her posture relaxes slightly but her expression is skeptical.

  I release a shaky breath and I can’t help but ask, “How is Cole?”

  “He’s fine,” she replies shortly. “His new career keeps him very busy.”

  It feels like she’s making a point. He’s fine without me and too busy to think about me.

  I smile politely and hold the envelope out to her. “These tickets represent a dream of mine. I have my first solo performance in this show, and that never would have happened without Cole.”

  Lily takes the envelope from my hand. “Why did things end between you two? Cole won’t talk about it.”

  Her question surprises me, but Cole not telling his sister how I pulled the rug out from under him doesn’t. He’s too much of a gentleman
to say anything derogatory about me to anyone.

  As Lily waits for my answer, a part of me wants to erase the hostility that remains in her eyes. I want her to understand that my intentions were good, my feelings were genuine. I never set out to hurt her brother or take advantage of him.

  Nervous, I clear my throat. “It ended because of me. Cole was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I screwed it up. But I loved him. I still do, not for his fame or his money or his looks. I love him, the man I came to know, for his compassion and kindness, his strength and vulnerability, his stubborn head and generous heart, and for the way he believed in me when no one else did. Cole is it for me, my soul mate. I’ll never get over losing him.”

  I shake my head because I didn’t mean to go on that way. God only knows what she thinks now.

  “But tell him he doesn’t have to worry. I know he’s moved on. If he comes to the show, I won’t look for him in the audience. I won’t try to talk to him. That’s not what the tickets are about. They’re a show of gratitude and they’re a good-bye. I’m saying good-bye to him.”

  Lily stares hard at me, and she must notice the tears that gather in my eyes. She must hear the emotion in my voice because I hear it myself. Once I finish, her lips part in surprise and she looks as if she wants to say something, but I’m dangerously close to losing control and embarrassing myself even more.

  Abruptly, I turn and walk back toward Renee’s house.

  As I approach them, Renee and Deedee watch me with curious expressions. Once Deedee sees how I’m crying, she says, “Oh, honey,” and comes to put her arm around my shoulder. “That’s it, Nikki. You have to forget about him. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

  I wipe at my cheeks. “I know. I’m done. That’s the end of it.”

  Renee stares at me with a stricken look on her face. “Your tears are for Cole?”

  I press my trembling lips together and don’t bother to hide the pain I’m in.

  She shakes her head and whispers, “I didn’t know, Nikki. I didn’t. You loved him this much and you gave him up for me?”

  Her eyes fill with remorse and something else I haven’t seen in years. Compassion.

  As we stand in her front yard, we see each other through different eyes. Through lenses that are no longer distorted by the past. In this moment, for however long it lasts, we see the truth.

  Renee insists we come into the house for a little while and when we do, she waits on us, serving iced tea and cake that Langley proudly announces she helped make. Renee is so attentive, the urge to cry fades.

  I don’t blame Renee for the choice I made. She thinks she knows what love is, but she’s never felt a bone-deep longing for another human being. She’s never had a word, a touch, a look from the person she loves bring her to life. She could never even imagine it, although I hope someday she finds it. If that day comes, I hope she values it and believes in it better than I did.

  My tie is crooked. I look in the mirror and yank it downward, but the moment I release it, it goes cockeyed again.

  “Need some help?”

  I drop my hands in defeat and nod.

  Gwen, my assistant, shakes her head in that familiar way she has that says I’d be lost without her. I thought I’d hate the intrusion of an assistant, and I did at first, but now I need her. In this new life I’m living, there’s so much going on, so many things to remember. I would be lost without her.

  Lily hired Gwen weeks after she gave birth to my niece, and after I lost the custody case. She was busy with the baby and thought I was spiraling downward without her, forgetting appointments, canceling plans, taking Derek camping and considering not bringing him back.

  Lily may have also been trying to play matchmaker. Gwen isn’t exactly hard on the eyes, but Lily failed to ask her if she was single, which she isn’t, not that I’d have any interest if she were. Dating holds no appeal for me; not even the lure of casual sex tempts me.

  These days are a lot like the old days when I was in the public eye and it seemed like women were waiting around every corner. There’s a part of me that wants to bury all the hurt and anger I feel inside an endless string of women, but it won’t help. I have a feeling it would only make things worse.

  So I keep busy. That way I don’t have time to think about the things I’ve lost. When Gwen believes she’s doing me a favor by scheduling a free afternoon, I panic and push her to book something else, anything to keep me from having time on my hands. Too much time to think is a dangerous thing.

  “You’re on in five,” Gwen says.

  I’m at a studio in Burbank today, about an hour’s drive from where Derek lives with Celeste and Luke, to tape a segment for a PBS documentary about Jasper Shaw, another NHL player whose life was destroyed by the effects of CTE. He killed himself two years ago after battling depression and violent mood swings.

  The producers want me to say what I’ve been saying on all the news shows for the past few months, that recurrent concussions can have severe long-term effects, and going forward, coaches at all levels should be trained to recognize the signs of concussion before they send players back into a game. Scientists have been saying this for years, but for some reason when guys like me say it, people listen, and my phone rings off the hook these days with people who want me to say it.

  I read up on Jasper Shaw’s case before I agreed to do the interview, and the details are chilling. His symptoms began with short-term memory loss, although it was different from mine. His family said he’d often repeat the same stories he’d told only minutes ago, and when he was driving, he’d lose his sense of direction going places he’d been to dozens of times.

  He had crippling headaches. Sometimes he’d grit his teeth in pain so hard, he’d crack his molars. But his worst symptom, according to his wife, was violence. Even in the initial stages of his disease, Jasper Shaw exhibited violent behavior that was unlike him. His wife believes guilt over striking her and his children was one factor that led to his suicide. He thought they would be better off without him. It’s a heartbreaking story.

  With each new case I hear, I can’t help but make comparisons to myself. Sometimes my symptoms are eerily similar and other times, like with Jasper Shaw, they seem insignificant in comparison. CTE presents itself in different ways. My own symptoms haven’t gotten worse, but they haven’t gotten better either. I’m still playing a waiting game, but I’m not sitting around doing nothing about it anymore. I’m educating myself and gaining awareness. The more I learn, the more driven I am to spread that awareness.

  Since I went public, the NHL’s director of hockey operations asked me to refrain from commenting until more studies can be done. I politely refused, or maybe I wasn’t so polite. Then the lawyers representing the NHL players suing the league asked me to join their lawsuit, but I’m not interested in suing anyone. I just want to get the information out there so people will know the dangers. I want the dismissive attitude to end, and I want the leagues to stop retaliating against players who speak out.

  I kept quiet for too long because I was afraid of the repercussions to my own life, but once the worst happened, when I lost Derek, I had no reason to keep my mouth shut. I was ready to do this. I needed to do it. Nikki was right about that.

  In one interview, a reporter asked me why I let my son play hockey if I’m so concerned about the dangers. It’s a good question. I was surprised it took so long for someone to ask it. I admitted a day may come when I won’t let him play anymore, when I decide the risk isn’t worth the reward, but that day isn’t here yet.

  In the meantime, I make sure his coaches are keeping him and the game as safe as possible by utilizing strict concussion guidelines and return-to-play protocols. Whether these protocols work has yet to be determined. There’s enough concern out there that different states have established their own guidelines, but they’re not standardized or proven. It seems like we’re all scrambling to make sense of this and find solutions when there may not be any real sol
ution out there. But denying the significance of the problem is no way to solve it. All I’m trying to do is get a realistic discussion going.

  When I’m finished here, I have another appointment. Then I pick Derek up at school and we’ll spend the afternoon together. I used to hate that I only got him for two weeks every month. Now two weeks would feel like forever.

  Gwen adjusts my collar, and once she’s satisfied with my appearance, I go on set and do my thing. When I finish an hour later, Gwen tells me Lily called and wants me to call her back.

  I sigh. Lily calls every day. She’s more worried about me than my folks are. Probably because I don’t fake it as easily in front of her. Especially when she brings my nieces and nephew over and it feels like there’s a giant spotlight shining on the place where Derek should be. Even though Celeste won, I haven’t stopped fighting to get Derek back. I’ll never stop.

  Last week, Sports Illustrated called and said they want to interview me for next month’s issue. Howard, my agent, thinks I should talk about how I lost my son and why. He’s convinced sharing that part of my life will earn me the public’s sympathy and put a significant dent in Celeste’s image. It could also put pressure on the judge to grant my appeal and expose the quack of a doctor Celeste found to say I was an unfit parent without ever meeting me.

  I hate to air so much dirty laundry in public, especially when it concerns Derek, but if this could bring him back home, I’m willing to do it. I’d do just about anything.

  Gwen leaves the room to give me privacy and I sit down, loosen my tie, and prepare for my phone call to Lily. The truth is, I love my sister and I appreciate her concern. I just don’t want to talk about shit the way she wants me to all the time. Talking about it doesn’t make it any better.

  When Lily picks up, I hear the baby crying in the background. “Bad time?”

  She laughs. “Is there ever a good time? If it isn’t one kid, it’s another. How did the interview go?”

  “They all want the same sound bite. When I go off script, they usually cut that part out, but these guys wanted to hear everything I had to say, so I’m hopeful they’ll keep it all in.” I wait, but Lily doesn’t talk. “You called me?”