Hutch
My mom still lives in the same house I grew up in. It's in a neighborhood that's seen better days. There are no gangs here, but the houses are just this side of run down. Our small home isn't as shabby as the ones around it simply because over the summer, I'd wrangled all the guys to help me paint it. I'd also repaired the front porch steps and fixed the busted plumbing in the bathroom. I wasn't kidding when I said I cleared a lot of money from scholarships. Mom never wanted me to spend it on her, but I had the funds to make the repairs so I did. I caught her at work and we had the entire house painted by the time she got back. The front porch was just me, but I did a decent job. I'm not a carpenter by any means, but nailing a few boards isn't rocket science. The framework was already there.
The small, two bedroom house sits between two that look identical to it sans the new paint job. The front porch has two large salt bags sitting beside the door, which I pick up and take inside. Theft is an issue, especially when the people around can't afford everything they need. I don't want Mom to need this one morning and not have it. She broke her arm last year when she slipped on the icy driveway because someone had taken the last of her ice. Not that she'd say a word. She always told me growing up if someone needed something bad enough to steal it, then they could have it.
Part of my goal in making the NHL is to buy my mom a better house. She wouldn't like fancy or big, but something in a nicer neighborhood where I don't constantly worry about her would be exactly what we booth need. She's done everything humanly possible to make sure my hockey dreams came true. There were many a night we had ramen noodles so I could afford to go to hockey camps. The least I can do is make sure she's taken care of going forward. And if I don't make the NHL? I'll still make sure she has a house before I do."Yo, Mom, where are you?" I call as I kick off my shoes. "Bedroom," comes her muffled reply. I take the two bags of salt and put them in the hall closet before wondering into the kitchen. It smells delicious. Not sure what she's got cooking, but I've worked up an appetite.
When Mom comes in, she looks tired. Her dark brown hair is pulled up in a loose ponytail and she's got on sweats and a faded t-shirt with my old high school logo on it. She's in her early forties and today she actually looks it. Normally Mom has on makeup and her hair done up even if she's in sweats. She must really be exhausted if she didn't bother with any of that today.
"Are you working double shifts again?" I do my best to keep the accusation out of my tone, but her eyes narrow.
"Jonathan Wayne Hutchinson, don't you take that tone with me."
I bite my lip to keep from snarking, but its hard.
"You look tired."
She shrugs. "I am tired, but such is life. How's school?"
"Changing the subject doesn't mean I'll forget about you promising not to work so many doubles."
"Honey, I am not your responsibility. You worry about you and I'll worry about me."
Stubborn. What is it with all the stubborn women in my life all of a sudden? First Daisy and now Mom.
"What's for dinner?" Might as well just change the subject and sneak it back in later. Smells like she worked hard fixing whatever she's cooking. I don't want to ruin our supper with an old argument.
"Honey glazed salmon and baked root vegetables."
"Honey?" My nose curls slightly. Who would put honey on a fish
?"What do I always say?"
"Try it before you declare its disgusting.
"She nods and pulls the tray of vegetables out of the oven. "It's healthy and it'll taste good. The small amount of honey I used for the glaze won't disrupt your diet."
Normally, her food is great, but I have my doubts about sweet salmon, even if it smells delicious.
"Do me a favor and grab some plates and silverware. I ran out of time and didn't get to set the table."
"We don't need to do that. We can just dip out of the pans like we used to when we were hustling to make sure we were on time."
She laughs, but I can see she's relieved that she won't have more to clean up. I skip the normal plates and grab paper plates instead. I'm cleaning up tonight so the less I have to do the better.
"I can wash the plates."
"Nah." I hand her the plates and dig out some forks. "I'll do the dishes and you know how I hate it. Less for me to do this way."
We don't have a dishwasher. Mom said it was a waste of money since it only took a few minutes to clean up. Her few minutes almost always turned into half an hour or more. Her new house is going to have a dishwasher whether she uses it or not.
"Don't you have a game tomorrow?"
I nod. "Yeah, but I can wash some dishes. Speaking of the game, are you coming?"
"I don't know honey."
"Scouts are going to be there. Scouts from the Raptors."
Her head turns and her eyes are wide. "The Minnesota Raptors? Our hometown team?"
"Yes. Shaw actually talked to us the other day. He's been to a few of my games last year."
"They might pick you up then?"
"Maybe."
"What about school?"
"Mom, lets not worry about that right now. I still have to get through tomorrow's game and I've had a hard week. I lost three seconds of time. I fell in behind the third line."
"How?"
"According to Daisy, I'm too stressed over the scouts and always having to be "on" as she calls it."
"Who's Daisy?" Her eyes are lit up with curiosity.
"Girl I met first day of classes. She's a transfer student who's living over at the sports house."
"Does she play a sport?"
"Not that I know of. She just picked up the last room available."
"So how did you and this Daisy girl get into such a deep conversation about your missing three seconds?"
Inquisition mode. I shouldn't have brought Daisy up.
I take the plates she hands me and puts them on the small breakfast table before rustling up some water and a sweet tea for Mom. How much to tell her?
"Jon."
"I'm thinking."
Her eyes narrow as she sits down. "I just don't want you jumping to conclusions about her is all."
"You're making me nervous. Is she one of those girls who seem to think they're the shit?"
Its rare my mother cusses, but I can't help but laugh when she does. It sounds wrong coming out of her mouth.
"No, Daisy isn't snobby. She's..." I break off and shake my head. I can't explain unless I tell her about everything from day one. "Do you really want to hear?"
"Of course."
I take my fork and spend the next half an hour telling her all about Daisy from the day I helped her pick up her books to arguing about buying her skates to everything that happened at the rink.
"I think she's right. I spent so much time focused on just making sure I don't screw up, I forgot why I loved too skate, why I loved hockey. I got in my own head. Coach said I beat my best time. And that was with Daisy on my back. I just skated for the sheer joy of it."
"She sounds like a sweet girl."
"She is, but she knows nothing about hockey, except to call skates weapons of mass destruction on her feet."
Mom laughs. "I'm sure she'll get better."
"I don't know. She never learned to ride a bike. She has a balance issue when she's not walking on her own two feet."
"Well, maybe teach her to ride a bike?"
"Her brother and her grandmother both swore off trying to teach her after the millionth visit to the ER."
"I have faith in you." Mom pats my cheek. "So tell me, when are you going to bring her by so I can meet her?"
I groan. I knew it. "Mom, I barely know her and I have to focus on hockey. This is my last year to try and make a team. If my stats aren't good, there's no hope."
"Did you or did you not just tell me focusing too hard is what screwed up your time?"
"Well...yeah..."
"There you go. Don't let it become the only thing in your life. That's how you burn out. Focus on it, yes, but don't let other things slip away. Don't let people slip away."
"You don't even know her mom."
"I don't need to know her. I can see how much your face lights up when you talk about her. I expect you to bring her around in no less than two weeks. Are we clear?"
I rub the back of my neck. How do you say no to your mother? You don't.
"Sure, Mom."
She smiles sweetly. "Do you want me to pack up the leftovers for you take home? I'm sure Collin will appreciate it."
"Uh, no. This is mine."
"So you do like my sweet salmon?"
Begrudgingly, I agree. It was delicious.
"I'll portion it out so you can add whatever you want. It's good with rice as well."
"You've been watching the Food Network again, haven't you?"
"Of course. Where else do I get the ideas necessary to make what you have to eat taste decent?"
Her entire goal has been me since I was born. She's never let me down and I hope to God I can one day make it all up to her."
Love you, Mom."
"Love you too." She gets up and starts rummaging through the cabinets and I shovel the rest of my food into my mouth before starting to clean up.
But now my big question is how do I get Daisy to come meet my mom?
And I should probably take her on a date before then.
If I decide to focus on more than just hockey.
She could be my biggest distraction.
Or something else entirely.
Something I'm not ready to think about just yet.
Soon, though.
Maybe.