A Hockey Tutor

by Smith, Mary

**

  I was sitting in class as Katie entered. She looked amazing, but I blocked it from my thoughts. I was surprised when she sat down next to me.

  “Good morning, Andrew,” she said formally.

  “Katie.”

  That was the only non-work-related word we spoke the entire day. I hoped that was a sign that she was coming around, but I could see the anger was still in her eyes, and I didn’t know how to make that go away.

  Chapter 23 – Katie

  “Look, I just want to tutor you, and then finish packing so I can leave!” I shouted at Andrew. He had sent me a text saying we were going to make a detour before our session today.

  “I have somewhere to be, and it’s important, so please get your ass in the truck and let’s go!” he yelled back to me. I didn’t even know he owned a truck, but I guess with his money he could buy anything he wanted.

  “Fine.” I didn't know why I was doing it, but I got into the truck. “You’re probably just going to some strip club anyway. I might as well go and get a drink myself.” I snapped.

  He pulled out onto the main road. “Oh, yeah, because that’s what all college guys do at three o’clock on a Tuesday,” he grumbled.

  Neither of us said a word to each other as he drove to the other side of town. We pulled up to the back of a warehouse, and there were several men in the parking lot. A few waved to Andrew, and he pulled alongside them, putting the truck in park.

  “You can get out if you want,” he said. “It’s going to take a little while for them to load the stuff up.” He pointed over to several large wooden boxes next to the workers.

  “What’s in all the crates?”

  “Crack,” he said without missing a beat. “I figured I would serve it with my Thanksgiving dinner. You know, to keep the party going.” He shrugged.

  “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” I rolled my eyes.

  “That is my plan B. You know, if this NHL thing doesn’t work, or my dad’s money runs out.” He got out of the truck and went over to the men.

  I watched as the men put the crates into the back of the truck, and I watched Andrew interacting with everyone. His smile was bright, and he seemed happy. It pulled at my heart, because I wasn’t the one making him smile; just a bunch of stupid crates.

  When everything was loaded up, he shook everyone’s hands and hopped back into the truck. We didn’t say anything as we drove to another location. This time I did know where I was. It was the homeless shelter attached to a large Catholic church.

  When Andrew parked the truck, a priest with gray hair waved at him. Andrew went straight for the man and hugged him. This time I did get out of the truck.

  “Father Michael, this is Katie Miller,” Andrew introduced me.

  “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Andrew talks about you all the time.” He shook my hand.

  I was in complete shock. Why would Andrew talk about me to a priest? “Um, thanks.”

  “Andrew, take care of all this, please. I’m going to take Katie inside to stay warm.” Father Michael opened the door, and I followed him into the building.

  We walked down a long hallway, through a large dark door into a small office. It seemed plainly decorated, but I wasn’t sure, since I'd never been in a priest's office to know if this was how they normally looked.

  “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

  “No sir, I’m fine,” I said politely.

  He chuckled. “You can call me Michael if it makes you feel better.”

  “Sorry.” I cringed because I didn’t want to offend him. “I’m not Catholic, so I'm not sure how to address you.”

  “I’m not offended in the least.” He smiled at me. He smiled like Andrew.

  I glanced at the wall to my left and saw a whole bunch of pictures. They seemed to be family photos. Well, I guess he could have relatives. Duh, of course he has a family. I shook my head at my stupidity.

  “That’s a beautiful family,” I said, trying to make small talk.

  “Thank you. I’m very proud of them myself.” He stood next to me, admiring the same view.

  There was one in particular that caught my eye. It was a young boy next to a younger version of Father Michael, and a stunning woman. I giggled. “That kid looks like a miniature Andrew.”

  “Well, he should. That is Andrew.”

  “Wha—what?” I must not have heard him correctly.

  “Andrew is my nephew. My baby sister,” he pointed to the woman in the picture, “was his mother.”

  “Was his mother?”

  Father Michael’s face was solemn now. “Yes. Michelle passed away two years ago, in a car accident.”

  ”Andrew didn’t tell me,” I said quietly.

  “It was very hard on Andrew.” He stared at the picture of his sister, and I could tell that he had been very close to her. “It was hard on all of us.” He turned back to me. “She was the glue that held us together.”

  “He never talked about her. I assumed that she wasn’t around, not that she was . . .gone.” I didn’t want to use the word ‘dead’; it felt too final.

  “Andrew tends to keep things inside.” He tilted his head and studied me for a few seconds. “That is what he did with you.”

  “What do you mean?” I questioned him.

  “I told him that he should tell you everything he was feeling, but he didn’t, and now he thinks he’s lost you.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “But I see that same light in your eyes as in his. You love each other so much, but you both have your walls up, not wanting to be hurt again.”

  “He lied,” I whispered.

  “Yes, he did.” Father Michael took Katie’s hands in his. “But I happened to be a big believer in the power of forgiveness.”

  Would I be able to trust Andrew again? Would I be able to open myself up to him, tell him how I felt, and risk being hurt again?

  “May I ask you a question, Katie?”

  I nodded.

  “Who was it?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Who was who, sir?”

  “Who did you lose?”

  I stood silent for a moment, tears forming in my eyes. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “My brother. He was killed in action in Iraq three years ago.”

  “That’s a hard loss for you to bear at such a young age.”

  I nodded.

  “My advice?” Father Michael said, his voice soft. “Andrew is a kind and caring young man. Tell him. Trust him. Lean on him. I believe it will be immensely healing for both of you.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do. Although, since he is my nephew, admittedly I am a bit biased,” he said kindly.

  “What is he doing here? Why did he bring me here today?”

  Father Michael’s face lit up, “Andrew organizes and helps pay for the homeless shelter’s Thanksgiving dinner. It was a tradition his mother started when he was young, and he has continued it since her passing. It is very important to him, and you are very important to him, so I can only assume he wanted to share it with you.”

  I was stunned.

  Just then Andrew walked through the door He looked at Father Michael and said, “Everything is done.”

  “Excellent,” he exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Andrew.”

  “You’re welcome, Father Michael.” He walked over to him, and they hugged.

  Father Michael extended his hand to me. “You’re welcome back anytime, Katie.”

  I shook his hand. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

  I followed Andrew silently out to the truck. I had so many things to say, so many emotions I was feeling, I didn’t know where or how to start.

  “Father Michael told me who he was,” I blurted out.

  He nodded.

  “I’m—I’m sorry to hear about your mother. I—I didn’t know,” I stammered.

  “How could you?” he said softly.

  “It’s admirable of you to carry on her tradition, helping the people at the shelter.”


  He remained quietly, focusing straight ahead of him.

  Andrew pulled up behind the BMW, almost complete covered in snow. I hadn't driven it since the night of our fight outside the Capital Grille. Seeing it, driving it, just made me think about Andrew. I wanted to say more to Andrew, to take his uncle’s advice and trust him, open up to him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. “Happy Thanksgiving, Andrew.” I looked deep into his sea blue eyes.

  He paused, then leaned towards me. I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he turned back and stared at the steering wheel. “Happy Thanksgiving, Katie.”

  My heart ached, but I didn't let it show on my face. I nodded, and walked into my apartment.

  **

  The normal six-hour trip home turned into almost eight hours. As much as I loved the snow, I hated driving in it.

  Pulling onto Spruce Street, I could tell nothing had changed. There was the same post office, the same volunteer fire department, and the same small, one-room town hall building.

  I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home. The white siding matched the snow on the ground. I sat in my car, looking at the house. It didn’t matter how many times I walked into it, I still got butterflies, wishing, hoping that Nick would be at the table. But I knew that he wouldn’t be.

  I grabbed my bags from the passenger seat and headed towards the house. I knocked the snow off my boots before entering. The aroma of cinnamon flooded my nostrils the second I opened the door. Mom had been baking.

  I smiled, thinking about her homemade pies. She was the best cook in town; she had the blue ribbons to prove it.

  “Mom? Dad?” I listened for a moment, but no one responded. I saw the note on the table:

  Had to run into town. Be home soon. Love, Mom

  I took in a deep breath. I would go ahead and run to the cemetery. I went back out into the sun and cold, and back into my car. I drove to the edge of town, where the road ended.

  Some of the graves had been decorated for the holiday, but most of them were covered with snow. I parked my car and walked over to my brother’s grave.

  I could tell Mom had been there recently. There was a wreath, in fall colors, with a small turkey sitting next to the headstone. I plopped down in the snow. The cold, wet snow soaked through my pants, but I didn't care.

  I brushed the snow off of the stone.

  Nicholas James Miller

  Beloved Son and Brother

  1988 - 2011

  It had been three years, but it felt like yesterday. I rubbed the ‘N’ and I hated it because it reminded me that my best friend was gone. But I couldn't take it off.

  I closed my eyes and gave in, letting my thoughts wander back to that night:

  “I hate school!” I yelled as I busted through the back door. I went straight for the fridge. “Do you even know how much homework I have? A ton. I mean it, too, a ton of homework. Gosh, you’d think with Spring Break coming up they would ease up and cut us some slack.” I pulled out the pitcher of tea and poured myself a glass. I turned to see both of my parents there, just sitting at the table. Usually only Mom was home at this time. The looks on their faces were somber, and my heart dropped.

  “Katie,” my dad said quietly. “We need to talk.” He got up and took the glass from my hand, putting the pitcher back into the fridge.

  “What—what’s wrong?” I stuttered. I began to shake.

  As soon as I saw Mom’s tears, I collapsed on the floor. “No!” I screamed; my father kneeling beside me, pulling me close to him. They never had to say the words, because I knew. I knew Nick was gone.

  I sobbed into my father’s chest as he rocked me. My mother joined us, and we all three sat there on the kitchen floor and cried. My soul had been ripped from me. My best friend, my protector, my brother . . . was gone.

  I pushed out of my parents’ arms and ran up to my room. I was angry. He had lied to me. I trusted him and he had lied. He told me he was coming back, he gave me his word.

  I slammed my door shut and unleashed my fury on everything in my sight. I took off my shoes and flung them at my vanity mirror, shattering it. I tore through my dresser, yanking out all my clothes. With one swipe I shoved everything off the top of my dresser. Anything that stood in my path I threw, tossed, or crushed.

  “Katie!” my dad shouted, grabbing me from behind.

  I screamed as loud as I could. “He lied! He lied! He lied!” Over and over the words poured out of me, until I was nothing more than a heap on my bedroom floor. I cried until I was dried up of tears.

  I opened my eyes as the hot tears streamed down my cheeks. The pain was still there, and I wondered if it would ever go away. Only when Andrew and I were close did I feel the pain ease, and my heart start to heal and open up again. But he broke my heart too.

  I couldn’t stop sobbing as I stared at the words etched on that stone. I cried because I missed my brother, and I missed Andrew. I missed Andrew so much. The warmth of his hand in mine, the tenderness of his fingers rubbing the inside of my wrist, the joy I felt when he kissed me.

  “Katie.” I screamed, and leapt to my feet at the sound of my name.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Andrew Moore was in Malden.

  “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What? What? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  He took a step closer to me.

  I stepped back, in front of my brother’s grave as if I could protect him, and my secret.

  “Talk to me, Katie.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I asked Lindsay where you lived, and I used the GPS in my car to find your town. Once I got to Malden, I stopped at the post office, and the lady there knew you and your family, and she told me where you lived.”

  “I threw my hands up in the air. “Of course she did.”

  “I went to your house, and I met your mom.”

  I gasped. “You met my mother?”

  Andrew smiled. “Yes, and she was very kind, even though she had no clue who I was. I explained to her I was a friend from school and I needed to talk to you. She told me you’d be here.”

  “Why would my mother tell you I was here? For all she knew, you were a mass murder.”

  “Well, I am quite charming,” he chuckled.

  “Fine, you found me. Great job. I’ll be sure to give you a gold star when we get back to Minnesota. Now leave,” I ordered him.

  “No, because I haven’t told you yet what I came to tell you. Please, hear me out.” His blue eyes were pleading with me. “So, tell me.”

  I relented. “Okay,”

  “My dad did pay the school to cover my grades but there was a reason for it.” He raked his hand through his hair. “My mom died in a car accident two years ago. It was the worst day of my life, like I had died with her. I shut everyone out; my dad, Uncle Mike, Franks, everyone. I went to Juniors and started drinking, and sleeping with anything that walked. Then everything happened with Wes, and it just added to my stress and my sadness. On top of that, I felt like I had failed, because I didn’t win that gold medal. So, when I returned to college in Boston, I just kept drinking, and not caring.” His voiced cracked.

  “Then, when I got the offer from St. Paul, I thought it would be different. But there was Wes, reminding me every day that I had failed. So I skipped class and I got drunk and I slept around, just like I had in Boston. Because when I was drunk and I was sleeping around, I didn’t feel like a failure. I didn’t feel at all.”

  “Oh, Andrew,” I whispered.

  “My dad was furious with me. He told me this was my last bail-out, and he meant it. He had convinced the school, in the form of a big fat check, to hold off on revoking my eligibility until midterms. He told me he was going to hire a tutor to help me pull up my grades in time so that I would be eligible to play, and would still have a shot at making it into the NHL. I was so angry. I thought I was angry with my dad
, and I took it out on him, shutting him out, but really, I was angry at myself, for screwing up again. My mom would’ve been so ashamed of the way I was acting.” He dropped his head and took a deep breath. When he looked up again, I could see his beautiful blue eyes full of tears, and my heart ached to comfort him. I moved towards him, closing the gap between us. He reached up and touched my cheek. “You saved me. You snapped me out of my vicious cycle of self-destruction and showed me there was a better way to live. You pushed me, you yelled at me. Hell, you even dumped water on me. You made me believe that I could be a good student again, and a good person, a person you could . . . a person you could love. And I wanted to be that person, because Katie Miller, I have fallen head over heels in love with you.”

  He loved me. Andrew loved me.

  I stepped to my left, and I saw Andrew’s eyes read the gravestone. “He was my best friend, and my brother. He promised me he was coming home. It was his second tour, and it was going to be his last. He gave me his word, and I trusted him.” Andrew looked at me, and I knew he understood everything I was saying.

  “You asked about the necklace.” He nodded as I continued. “He gave it to me, right before he left. I never take it off.”

  “Oh Katie,” he breathed out, but I kept going.

  “When he died, I couldn’t function. Nothing helped. I pushed people away; friends, family, it didn’t matter. I trusted no one. Until you.” I stopped as the sob escaped me. “You’re the one I love. I do. I’ve never said those words to anyone.”

  When I finished, I collapsed into the snow, weeping uncontrollably. It was like a weight had left my chest, and I could breathe again. Andrew wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over again, clinging to him.

  “I’m here, Katie. It’s going to be okay.” He stroked the back of my head as his voice soothed me.

  We held each other in the snow for a long time. My pants were soaked, and I knew his were too.

  I slightly pulled out of his arms and studied his face. “Why did you come?”

  “I love you, and you needed to know that.” He laid his forehead against mine. “You’re so damn stubborn, I had to drive all the way here to explain it to you,” he chuckled.