The Summer Proposal

by Keeland, Vi

  “Hi. Are you Mrs. Wolfman?” I asked.

  “I am.”

  “I’m Max Yearwood, a friend of your husband’s from the Garden.”

  She smiled. “I know who you are. Otto talks about you all the time, and he never misses watching your games. He adores you.”

  I smiled back. “You sure you got the right guy? He calls me jackass.”

  Mrs. Wolfman chuckled. “That’s how you know he likes you—if he calls you names.”

  I looked over her shoulder at Otto. He was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and drip bags. “I just heard what happened. How’s he doing?”

  She shook her head. “Not too well, I’m afraid. He’s got sepsis now, likely from the pneumonia.”

  “I saw him pretty recently. He seemed like he was doing so well.”

  “He was. The pneumonia took us by surprise. He’s got lung cancer, so having a cough isn’t unusual. That’s what we thought it was until he came down with a high fever. It spread fast because his immune system is compromised from the chemo.”

  “Would it be alright if I visited him for a few minutes?”

  Mrs. Wolfman smiled. “I think he’d love that. I was going to take a walk downstairs to grab some coffee. There’s a Starbucks in the lobby. So I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like me to grab you a cup?”

  “No thanks.” I smiled. “Otto is so anti-Starbucks.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it. But I really enjoy it. I’ll tell you a little secret.” She motioned for me to come closer. “I keep a sleeve of plain, white Styrofoam cups in my cupboard. Sometimes I pick up a Starbucks and dump it into one of those so I don’t have to listen to him rant for a half hour about how the place is overpriced.”

  I laughed. “That’s classic.”

  She patted my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  After Mrs. Wolfman left, I stood at the doorway, not sure what to say or do. A nurse came by to add another bag of fluids to Otto’s IV pole. As she worked, she spoke aloud, telling him what she was doing. I stopped her on her way out.

  “Can he hear you?”

  She had a kind smile. “Maybe. Many people do wake up remembering conversations visitors had, but it’s different on a case-by-case basis. I like to assume they can and just let them know what I’m up to. There have been studies that show patients benefit from the familiar sound of the voices of loved ones. They believe it can help awaken the brain and improve recovery time.” She nodded toward Otto. “Go ahead in. It may feel weird at first, but just try telling him about your day.”

  I nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

  I took a seat beside Otto’s bed and looked up at all the wires and monitors.

  “Hey, old man.” I smiled sadly. “I was going to come visit and say goodbye before I left. You didn’t have to go and do all this just to get my ass in gear. The nurse says you might recognize voices. I figure if I’m too nice, you might get confused, so I’ll just be my regular charming self.”

  I paused and thought back to the first time Otto and I met, seven years ago. “I’m going to tell you something, but if you remember it when you wake up, I’ll deny I ever said it. Anyway…I looked forward to seeing you every day after practice. You always reminded me of my dad. He was my biggest supporter, but never afraid to dish out a dose of reality. My rookie year, I walked in with a chip on my shoulder. I thought the team would be excited to land me, that I’d proven my worth by my stats in college and the price tag of the big contract I’d signed. I didn’t understand that some of the guys had put in ten or fifteen years and watched more than one big-name rookie turn out to be a disappointment. There was a guy named Sikorski who rode me hard that first year, and we started to go at it on the ice. One day after practice, I was sitting around in the penalty box, stewing over us getting into it yet again. You were pushing a broom and asked me if I planned on marrying Sikorski. I looked at you like you were crazy and said he wasn’t my type. And then you said something that’s stuck with me to this day: ‘Not every battle is worth the fight.’ You told me to stop wasting my time on shit that comes between my destiny and me.” I shook my head. “Something just clicked. I was funneling all of my energy into a fight I didn’t have to win. And that just took focus away from the things that really mattered, like improving my game.”

  I stared up at the numbers on the monitor for a while, watching Otto’s heartbeat. “By the way, I finally met Mrs. Wolfman a little while ago. I don’t think I have to tell you she’s too pretty and nice for your grumpy ass.”

  I heard a chuckle behind me and turned to find Otto’s wife standing at the door.

  She had two coffee cups in her hands. “Thank you. I can see why you two are friends now. That sounded just like something he would say.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

  She smiled. “It’s fine. That’s exactly what Otto would want—people being real.” She walked into the room and handed me a coffee. “I know you said you didn’t want one, but you always brought him coffee, so it felt right to return the favor.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  Over the next two hours, Mrs. Wolfman and I shared funny stories about Otto. She told me the only person who ever got the soft side of her husband was their daughter. Apparently, she had him wrapped around her finger and could get him to do anything. Like the time in seventh grade she was struggling in algebra, and Mrs. Wolfman told Otto their daughter couldn’t go out and play until she did all her homework. He got home earlier than his wife and had to enforce the rules. It had seemed like he was, until one day when the teacher called with concerns because their daughter’s homework had gone downhill in quality. Even her handwriting had become sloppier. Turned out, Otto was doing her math homework, while she went out to play. And he was even worse at algebra than their daughter.

  I was really glad I’d come. Mrs. Wolfman seemed to enjoy sharing stories. But when the nurse asked if we would step out so she could wash Otto, I figured it was time for me to get going.

  “Would you mind if I gave you my number so you can let me know if anything changes?” I asked her. “I’m moving in a few days, but I’ll pop back in again before then, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’d love that. Thank you, Max.”

  After I entered my number in her phone, I said goodbye, but then turned back. “Mrs. Wolfman?”

  “Yes?”

  “The other day when he told me he was leaving the Garden to drive cross country with you, he told me his life always felt full because he was with the person he loved. It wasn’t only your daughter Otto had that soft spot for.”

  She smiled. “I think there may have been a certain hockey player in that category, too. He just would never let you know it.”

  • • •

  Two days later, Mrs. Wolfman called to tell me Otto had passed.

  CHAPTER 27

  * * *

  Georgia

  Friday night, Maggie made me go out. It had been at least three weeks since I’d seen Max, and I still had zero desire to do anything. But my best friend was not a person who took no for an answer. She’d told me we were going to an art exhibit, which was far better than a singles bar in my mind, but when we arrived at The Gallery, I realized I’d been duped.

  There was art on the walls, but the place was also a bar—one filled with wall-to-wall people. “I thought you said this was an art gallery.”

  Maggie held her hands out. “It is. They rotate the exhibition every month. Now what do you want to drink?”

  I frowned. “Just a water.”

  “One lemon drop martini coming up. Good choice.” She winked and disappeared.

  I sighed. Since there was actual art around the perimeter of the room, I stepped closer to the piece right in front of me. It was an abstract painting of a woman. While I studied it, a guy walked up next to me.

  He tilted a beer toward the canvas
. “So…what do you think?”

  “I’m not very good with art.”

  He smiled. “Well, how does looking at that make you feel?”

  I stared at it some more. “Sad, I guess.”

  He nodded and pointed to the one next to it. “How about that one?”

  “The same.”

  “Damn.” He chuckled. “That one is titled Happiness.” He extended his hand. “I’m Scott Sheridan, and those are my paintings.”

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your work. It’s probably just my mood. I’ve been sort of down lately.”

  He laughed. “I’m not insulted. Art makes people feel different things. As long as I made you feel something, I’ve done my job.” He thumbed toward the bar. “Can I buy you a drink? Full disclosure, one of the perks of showing your art here is that all the alcohol is free, so I won’t have to pay for it.”

  I smiled. “No, thanks. My friend actually just went to get me one.”

  “So, let’s see. So far I’ve asked you if you like my art and offered to buy you a drink. Should I go for the cliché trifecta and ask you if you’re from around here?”

  “I live here in the city. How about you?”

  “LA. I’m just in town visiting.”

  My face dropped. LA. I’d managed to not think about Max for two or three whole minutes at least. Luckily, Maggie came back carrying our drinks, and I didn’t have to continue the conversation unassisted.

  “Who’s this?” She passed me a cocktail and nodded toward Scott.

  “Scott’s one of the artists being featured tonight.”

  “Nice to meet you, Scott.” Maggie tilted her head and smiled wolfishly. “The helpful bartender actually just pointed you out and warned me to keep away. She said you come in all the time pretending to be one of the artists who lives out of town, but you’re actually a barista over at Café Europa on Sixty-Eighth Street.”

  The guy scowled and turned on his heel to walk away.

  My mouth hung open. “Seriously? What the heck?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Creep. I don’t get some men. Haven’t they ever heard of Tinder? There are women looking for nothing more than a hookup. So why do they need to play games like that?”

  I shook my head. “I’m never dating again. I wasn’t even slightly interested in that guy, yet I totally believed he was the artist and lived in LA. Am I that gullible?”

  “No, he’s just that big of a jerk.”

  I sighed and sipped my drink. “I miss Max.”

  “I know you do, honey.”

  “Maybe I made a mistake telling him I needed to stop seeing him before he left at the end of the summer. I should get loaded and booty-call him.”

  Maggie grimaced. “He’s actually gone. I’m pretty sure he left this morning.”

  My brows drew together. “How do you know?”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I wasn’t going to say anything, because you seemed to be doing a little better each day, but I saw him yesterday.”

  “Saw him? Where?”

  “Across the street from our office.”

  “What was he doing across the street?”

  Maggie sipped her drink. “Staring at our building.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She heaved a loud sigh. “I left to go to the printer at eleven, remember?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, when I walked out, I noticed a guy across the street. He was wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses, but I thought it looked like Max. I figured it was my imagination. I came back a half hour later, and when I turned the corner, I looked over and the guy was still standing there, just sort of watching our building. So I crossed over before he saw me and went to take a closer look. Sure enough, it was Max.”

  “I don’t understand. He was just standing there?”

  She nodded. “I said hello and asked him what he was doing. I think he considered lying, but then he said he was waiting for you to come out for lunch. I said he should go in and see you, because we’d ordered in. But he said he didn’t want to bother you, that he hadn’t planned on saying anything to you when you eventually came out. He just wanted to see you again before he left.”

  “So he was just going to stand there and what? Look at me silently like a stalker?”

  Maggie nodded.

  The story made no sense. “That’s all he said?”

  “I asked him why he wouldn’t just go in and say goodbye in person, and he said it would just make it harder for you. Honestly, I thought he was right, so I didn’t say anything because you’d just started to come to work without puffy eyes the last few days.”

  I shook my head. “This is exactly what I don’t understand. If he cares about me enough to stand outside our building for hours just to see me from a distance, how could he not want to at least try to make things work?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I had that answer for you.”

  “Was that it? He didn’t say anything else?”

  “I asked him when he was leaving, and he said today. He’d pushed up his moving date and mumbled something about some charity game he’d agreed to play in that was in a few weeks—as if that was the reason he was leaving.” She shook her head. “So I told him he was a coward with his head up his ass, and I left.”

  I smiled sadly. That sounded about right.

  “Are you mad I didn’t say anything?”

  “No. I get why you didn’t. I know you always have my back.”

  She slung her arm around my shoulder. “Good. Then drink up. Because tonight we are getting sloshed and blowing off any man who tries to come near us.”

  Three hours later, it was mission accomplished. It was barely midnight—most young people were only starting to go out now—yet I was slurring and ready for bed. Maggie came home with me to make sure I got in okay, and she decided to crash on my couch rather than go across town to her apartment. She pulled my favorite sweats and T-shirt from my drawer, and after I changed, she tucked me into bed like a child.

  “You good? You’re not going to puke on me, are you? Do you need a bucket or anything?”

  “Only for my tears.”

  She grinned. “Do you think your tears would be extra salty from all the margaritas?”

  “No, because I was drinking lemon drops.”

  “Shit, that’s right.” She chuckled. “That was sugar around the rim, not salt.”

  “Can I ask you something, Mags?”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you think Max is in love with his ex?”

  Maggie’s face scrunched up. “Where did that come from? You’ve never even mentioned an ex of his. Did he have a serious relationship recently?”

  “No, not recently. He dated a woman for eighteen months, a couple of years back. But I’ve been trying to figure out why he wouldn’t give me a reason he didn’t want to try. The only thing that makes sense is that he didn’t want to hurt me. Sort of like you not telling me about him showing up at the office yesterday. When you care about someone, you don’t want to hurt them unnecessarily. So maybe he’s in love with someone else.”

  Maggie frowned. “I’m not sure why he won’t be with you. But I do know one thing. He lost the best thing he’s ever had.”

  My eyes welled up. “Thanks, Maggie.”

  CHAPTER 28

  * * *

  Max

  Ten years ago

  “You boys have got to be kidding me.” My mother walked into the doctor’s office, took one look at me holding bloody tissues to my nose, and shook her head.

  I pointed to Austin. “He started it.”

  Austin looked at Mom with sick-kid puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t have the energy to start a fight.”

  “Oh, honey.” Mom rubbed Austin’s back. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m the one with the bloody nose!”

  Austin grinned at me from behind my mother’s back. Such a dick.

  Dr. Wallace walked into the office, carrying
a chart. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

  Mom took the seat between Austin and me. We’d flown out to California a few days ago for a second opinion on Austin’s aneurysm. I’d tagged along to keep Austin company, even though Mom had taken over managing things after I’d finally got him to tell her what was going on.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Dr. Wallace,” Mom said.

  “Of course.” He sat down behind his desk. “Why don’t we get right into it, since you’ve come all this way, and I’ve already kept you waiting. I reviewed the files your doctor in Boston sent over, along with the scan taken last month and the one you took just this morning.” Dr. Wallace looked directly at my brother. “I’m afraid I agree with Dr. Jasper’s findings, son. That aneurysm should come out.”

  My brother frowned. “What happens if I don’t want to have surgery?”

  Dr. Wallace opened his drawer and took out what looked like a straw with something dangling from it. He smiled. “Excuse the low-tech demonstration. I find the minute I take out an iPad and start showing actual anatomy, patients get overwhelmed. Sometimes old-school simplicity works best. I get these straws from McDonald’s. They’re nice and thick, so it’s easy to thread my balloon through.” He held the straw horizontally, with a small piece of red latex dangling from a tear in the middle. He pointed to it. “This is the artery leading up to your heart.” He pointed to the latex peeking out. “This is an aneurysm.” He held one end of the straw closed and brought the other end to his mouth. “My breath is our blood flowing.” When he blew into the straw, the small piece of balloon sticking out of the slit began to grow. He pinched off the air when it was the size of a raisin. “This is normal blood flowing through. But here’s what happens when you start moving around and raise your blood pressure.” He blew into the straw with more pressure, and the balloon grew to the size of a golf ball. “Eventually, this balloon gets stretched too thin, and it can pop. Then you’re left with nothing plugging the hole, and blood leaks into the surrounding space of your heart chambers. I’m not trying to scare you, but if it bursts on its own, it’s messy, and your chances are not nearly as good as if we remove it cleanly.”