Page 16 of The Other Side of Wild

Reed: When & where? Who’d be doing the dunking?

Greyson: October. It’ll be on one of the piers. Hannah is putting it together. I just need volunteers.

Greyson: The kids will be doing the dunking. There will be two tanks Next to each other.

Monroe: I’m in.

Andrews: Count me in, Wilder. Do you need anything else?

Greyson: Anything you want to sign and donate would be great. I’ll fill you in on the other details after practice.

Wilson: Consider it done, buddy. We’ll rally the troops. Anything for the kids.

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We’ve all got our own issues, but when push comes to shove, we’d do just about anything to make life easier for local kids. There’s something about looking back on your own childhood, realizing where things went sideways for you, and then wanting to help other kids not suffer the same fate.

For me, it was my freshman year of high school. To not a single person’s surprise, I made the Varsity hockey team. I was good; I had an NHL legend for a dad, I truly didn’t have a choice but to succeed. Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey, but as a freshman on a team with mostly juniors andseniors, I was the subject of a bit of bullying. Although the guys would tell you, it was “new guy initiation.”

I overheard our captain and a guy who had it out for me more than anyone else talking about me one day. It was the day I realized I’d rather get thrown into plexiglass than have hateful words thrown my way. “He’s only here because his daddy paid off the coach. He doesn’t deserve to be here. The pipsqueak is weak as hell. He thinks he’s this big bad dude making varsity as a freshman; he just took a spot from someone who actually deserves it. He’ll be washed up before he graduates high school.”

It spiraled from there. I was ‘pipsqueak’ for two years until they all graduated, and I was made captain. But they didn't make it easier during that time. It was then that I started seeing my sports psychologist, Dr. Williams. With his help, I finally felt like I could take a stand. When I became captain, any of my guys I found bullying someone else had to skate sprints for half of practice. I knew what it felt like to be on the other end of it, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone else feel that way on account of the hockey team.

I remember when Dr. Williams told me, “Son, you’ve got symptoms of depression. I’m going to ask you some questions; I need you to be honest with me. I can help you, but honesty is needed for me to do that well.”It was like a bucket of ice was dumped on my head. While I’m blessed in the sense that I have an outlet for that and don’t have to take medication anymore, the anxiety and bursts of anger that comes with it are sometimes worse than the disease itself. When the darkness fully comes, it pulls me under for days, sometimes weeks. Sometimes, there’s something that sets it off; other times, it just wants tocuddle up with no rhyme or reason. Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

I live in Clyde Park. It’s beautiful, but it’s not as “upscale” as one would expect from a single NHL player. There’s no penthouse in these buildings, not that I mind. It’s just me; I don’t need a huge space. My two-bedroom apartment with a balcony overlooking a park across the street is more than fine. It’s cozy and homey. I can truly disconnect and relax here.

Turning the TV on, I sit on my couch with my favorite treat, a blueberry muffin. There’s an art to blueberry muffins; they need to be made just right, or it’s a complete heartbreak situation. It’s gotta be fluffy, not cakey. More on the light side, and the blueberry-to-batter ratio is a serious thing. It should have at least one blueberry in every bite I take. And Lord above, it better not be dry. I, however, won’t say the “M word” for wet, and you can’t make me.

I settle in and let my mind wander. What would my life be if things hadn’t hit the fan when they did? Tate’s right. My last relationship was a huge failure in more than one area. My bouts of anger aren’t conducive to any relationship, but Kara soothed that part of me, at least at the beginning. She could calm me down with a simple touch; her smile that started out as warm drifted into the crazed smile that she had towards the end. It was reminiscent of the Joker; a shiver rolled through my body.

Dr. Williams told me she was a textbook narcissist. Appearing one way to get past my defenses, then allowing her true colors to show. I remember the first time I had a slip after Kara and I started dating. She was there for me in ways I never expected anyone to be. She played her part perfectly, wrapping me up in a false sense of security I truly believed would heal the darkest parts of me. I felt loved and cared for, like I had finally found an equal. Someone who would love me enough for the both of us when I couldn’t find it in me to love myself. She was patient and understanding of the darkness when it crept in every so often. What I didn’t realize at the time–what I couldn’t see–was how those early days of support were fading into something else.

Year one wasn’t awful. It would come and go, and when it came, she was there to pull me back to the light. But as time went on, things began to change. Slowly, insidiously. By year two, I began to notice it more. The dark days were more frequent, the self-doubt, the guilt, fear. I couldn’t shake it. More than that, Kara started to change too. Her focus shifted and transformed into something I couldn’t quite name. But I felt it every time she’d subtly push me away from my friends, from the people who made me feel likeme.She even did it with my family. At first, I chalked it up to her wanting to protect our relationship, but it soon became evident that it was something deeper, darker, and more suffocating.

“You’re a hockey player, G. Aren’t you supposed to be strong?”The dismissive tone sliced me like a thousand papercuts. They fed right into my biggest insecurities. The one I could never quite outrun. As a professional athlete, you’re supposed to be strong, perfect even. The poster child for discipline and toughness. But what happens when you’re not?

I should have been yelling it from the rooftops when I got drafted. I was a first-round pick. It was my dream come true, the culmination of a lifetime of hard work. Instead, I felt small. Like I didn’t belong, like I was pretending to be someone I really wasn’t. The pressure hit in ways I didn’t know how to handle.

I remember walking to the lighthouse by my parent’s house as soon as I got home. The darkness was heavy, but the light pulled me forward. There was something calming about it, the way the waves hit the rocks, the light as it lit up the sea below. Like the light calling the ships home, it called me home, too. Almost like a quiet, guiding voice urging me to find a way to pull through. I sat there for hours, mind reeling, drowning in my own thoughts. The constant roar of the waves against the jagged jetty served as a reminder that life keeps moving. Ready or not, here it comes.

I decided right then I’d be Hannah’s lighthouse. Maybe not in the grandiose way I imagined when I was younger, the super hero that saved the damsel in distress. But in a quiet, steady sense. I can help her when the world feels too big. The one who will stand by her when the world feels like it’s crashing down around her. I’ll hold that space for her. I’ll be her friend, her safe space. I can do that. I can be that. When darkness comes for her, I’ll be there. And when the storm hits, I’ll be her anchor, holding her to what’s real, pulling her back, keeping her afloat.

I pull out my phone and open my shopping app. I order a small red and white lighthouse. One with a working light, nothing huge, but something that would serve as a reminder that she has someone in her corner, thatIwould always be there, no matter how rough the seas get.

Chapter 9 – Hannah

It’s been two weeks since Greyson and I had our carnival brain-storming session; the season officially starts in a few weeks, meaning I haven’t been reporting on anything Hawks-related yet. That gave me a chance to pin down a lot of the details for the carnival. It’s in 3 weeks, and my boss loved all the ideas. We have the location, and the food trucks and the booths have all been booked. We’ve booked both dunk tanks, too. My co-workers Caroline and Dylan are excited about this particular piece of entertainment.

I believe Dylan’s words were, “I get to dunk professional athletes in water? On the clock, while outside, repeatedly, over and over again, with no limit?” Caroline and I about keeled over with her obvious obsession with this singular attraction. She swears she’ll only keep buying tickets to the dunk tank because it’s supporting the kids. Riiiight. She also said she wouldn’t waste her tickets on trying to dunk me, so there’s that. I cackled; it was so unattractive, but I can’t with her sometimes.

Caroline has connections to the football team; she’s the one to cover them like I’m doing for hockey. Her dad also happens to be an Ex-NFL player who was more than happy to donate both his time and some signed “swag,” as he called it, to help with the auction portion of the night. Does anyone use the term “swag” anymore? Oh well, it’s shaping up to have a huge guest list, and the kids are already excited about it.

I stop at a small doughnut shop and pick up two dozen donuts. Caroline, Dylan, and I are headed to an after-school event for one of the organizations we’re supporting. Today, they don’t have any specific sports being played, but what they call “open play,” where everyone can play anything. It gives the kids a chance to discover if they like something a little more than what they currently play.

I place the donuts on the table, and of course, they come flocking like seagulls on the beach when you drop food. We ask them what they’re most excited about and if there is anything they would like to see at the carnival. The most overwhelming answer is, “I’d like to meet my hero.” Or “It’d be so cool to be able to see my favorite players off the field.”

One of the younger kids, Lilly, pulls me to the side and shakily begins to recount the last few months of her short, sweet life. When she’s done, she does a one-two punch right in the gut, heart, and brain all at the same time, “I just want my brother to be able to play hockey next year. Since our dad passed away, our mom is sad all the time; hockey is the only thing that makes Cade happy. I’m scared that if he loses that, I’ll lose him.”