Page 97

“I wasn’t an alcoholic in the sense that I needed it to function, but it was a crutch I used to numb myself. And not only the pain in my knee at the time, but…” He traces the lifeline of my palm before looking back up at me. “Everything that had happened to me in my life had gotten really heavy.”

“Tell me,” I urge. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it.”

He sighs, pressing his head against the chair and looking out at the desert. “After graduation, when I was drafted to the Denver Fury, I threw myself into hockey and my studies. I went to the DU campus early, got a part-time job at the rink, and stayed on another player’s couch until the dorms opened in the fall. I worked both on and off the ice until I physically had to sleep, wanting to prove that I was good enough to not only everyone who believed in me but also the team, my parents, my future NHL team”—his eyes find mine—“and you.”

“Me? I don’t understand.”

“After our fight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I took it to mean I wasn’t good enough for you. That I wasn’t good enough for you to fight for or sacrifice for or—”

“Beck, that’s—”

“Do you want me to finish the story or not?”

I scoot my chair closer and wrap our hands together. “I want you to finish.”

He stares at our interlocked hands. Finally, after what seems like forever, he continues. “When our colleges were scheduled to play against each other, I wanted to show you that I was fine, that I didn’t need you. I wanted my coach and team to know they could count on me. Then it all went to shit in my third fucking game.”

“The one before we were set to play against each other,” I state.

He nods. “The game I never made it to. Suffered a multi-ligament tear, ending my career before it could really start.” He rubs at his left knee, and my eyes fall to a faded scar under his fingers. “Once I was released from the hospital, I fell into a deep depression. I lost my spot on the university team when it was confirmed I’d never be able to play at a professional level, which means I lost my scholarship and my future spot on the Fury. I wasn’t going to put myself in debt to get some degree I didn’t even want, so I floated around on some friends’ couches, went to parties, and drank away my pain.

“Eventually, my mom came for a surprise visit to check in on me because I wasn’t answering her calls, and she saw the self-destructive path I was on. We talked, and she suggested therapy. It’s a long story from there, but I did the therapy, and the woman suggested I try to find out who the Beck outside of hockey is. It sounded dumb at the time, but she was right. I’d spent so long having that be my only goal in life that I didn’t know who I was.”

“And you figured it out,” I state.

“I found New Age spiritual work and started doing a lot of introspection. It took me awhile, but eventually I got sober and discovered that there was more to me than just being an athlete—I could help people like I was helped.”

“And you enjoy what you do now?”

“I do. I like constantly evolving, teaching people how to rise from the ashes.”

“Is that why you got the phoenix tattoo?”

“It is. I found this work, found myself when I felt like there was nothing left. I rose from the ashes and learned that I had value outside of hockey.”

“I could have told you that,” I say.

“But you weren’t in my life.”

“I wasn’t, and I’m sorry for that. I’m also sorry that I didn’t visit you in the hospital after your injury.”

“Why would you have?”

“Because I cared about you, and I was worried, especially when I heard you couldn’t play anymore and lost your future spot with the Fury. I picked up the phone to call you a million times, but I was a coward. I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me. Would you have?”

He stares into my eyes, thinking long before he speaks. “No. I would have told you to fuck off.”

“I did call your mom, though.”

His body goes still. “You did?”

I look down at our joined hands. “I did. I needed to know that you were okay. She said you weren’t but that you would be.”

“She never told me.”

“I begged her not to. She asked why, but I didn’t say, just asked her to keep it to herself.”

Beck stares out at the horizon, the sun fully in the sky and the desert now awake and alert. As the sun ascends, the temperature around us rises, turning up the heat in my body.