Chapter4
An NHL Star in the Making
Mia
News of Mrs.Johnson’s death made it through the neighborhood.I’d worked with enough dementia patients to know that this would be both a blessing and a terrible loss for her family.There’d been a period of a couple of years when I’d stopped by to visit her—after her son and his wife had moved out, and Justin wouldn’t be around.When I first was a single mom, walking Arne around the neighborhood and stopping in for a cup of tea with her had been a break.Mrs.Johnson had always been kind and never mentioned her grandson.She’d been lonely.And I was too.
I sent flowers to the service.I didn’t attend—it was private.Not a surprise, with the media attention Justin was getting after hitting Alek Denbrowski at practice and breaking his hand.I’d even gotten a call from a reporter asking me to comment on the story.Every now and then someone dragged up our past and hoped I’d say something interesting.I never did.
Then Justin was gone again and I could relax, not needing to worry about running into him around a corner or seeing him in the grocery store.I had no idea if he knew how my life had gone, but I certainly wasn’t in a rush to let him know I’d never gotten my degree, was divorced, a single mom and still living at home.I’d have been surprised if he thought much about me, but I didn’t want to see him realize how lucky he was to have gotten away.
And that was enough self-pity.I’d been on day shifts this week, which meant I got to take Arne to his soccer game.Those were the big excitements of my life.A couple of hours of sitting on a chair, talking to Arne’s best friend’s mom, who was as close to a girlfriend as I had these days.
This morning I’d thrown together chili in the crockpot before I left so that we could eat and make it to the game.I told Arne to go and get his soccer stuff while I went in the kitchen to get something on the table for him.
The crockpot was almost empty.My family had helped themselves, leaving barely enough for Arne, but not enough for me.I took a few long breaths so that I didn’t scream or throw something.
Mom shuffled in with her walker.She saw me at the crockpot and a worried frown crossed her face.“What’s wrong?”
“There’s not enough food left here for anyone but Arne.”
She made a noise in her throat.“I told them to save you some.”
Lot of good that did.“Where are they?”
She winced.“Dorian went out.Bruce went to see his friends…” Which meant he’d gone to the bar.“I’m not sure where Cora is.”
“There should have been lots for everyone.”
“Dorian had friends over.”
And fed them the food I’d made for the family?
Arne rushed into the room, his soccer bag thumping behind him.“Hey, Grandma.”
I set the one serving of food remaining on the table in front of him while he gave her a hug.“Go ahead and eat.You need energy for your game.”
I tossed some cheese on top for him and made grilled cheese sandwiches for my mother and me.
“Thank you, Mia,” Mom said.The smile I gave in return was forced.
I filled the crockpot with soapy water to soak while I scarfed down my sandwich as quickly as I could.
“We need to go now, Arne.”I shoved his bowl and cutlery in the dishwasher.It was almost completely full, items thrown inside in no logical order.I put in a cleaning tablet and turned it on, hoping for the best.
Arne gave his grandmother a kiss and headed for the door.
“Your bag?”I reminded him.
“Oops!Sorry!”He picked it up and ran out.
“You’ll be okay?”I asked Mom.
“Yes, I’m fine.Go have fun with your friends.”
My friends, who I only saw at soccer games.It wasn’t like I could ask them to meet up for coffee during the day or have them over to our place.Chats at soccer games were all I could manage.
I buckled Arne into his seat and checked that my game supplies were ready.I had a folding lawn chair in the back of the car, with a couple of water bottles.I wasn’t on snack duty, fortunately.That was always a nightmare.