“Take a seat, and I’ll bring in a box at a time.”
“I can?—”
She sighed.“Please, let’s not do this all the time.You shouldn’t be picking up the boxes with that hand.”
She was right, but it felt wrong.
She brought in the first box and sat across from me on a chair.Grandma had saved everything.There were trophies and jerseys from every level of hockey I’d ever played in.
I frowned over a box of the first awards I’d ever received.“What the hell am I supposed to do with these?I’m not going to put peewee trophies up in my place in Toronto.”
“Is there any place you can donate them?”
“I’m not that big a name.No one wants to know I was—” I reached and picked up a little brass-colored cup.“Most valuable player of the PC Mites twenty years ago.”
Her brow creased as she considered.“Are there some that might be worth keeping?”
“Some of the junior stuff maybe.”Anything since playing professionally I had in Toronto.“But most of this is garbage.”
She picked up her phone and started typing.“I’m looking up ways to recycle trophies, if you don’t want to keep these.”
I’d never considered people would do that, but if they did, I could let these go happily.
She peered at her screen.“This one, Repeat Champions, takes used trophies and medals from any sport and makes them into non-gender-specific awards and donates them.”
“Let’s do that.”
Another box was full of folded up jerseys from the different teams I’d played for.The jerseys were small, some grubby from a lot of wear.
I held up a green one, the shirt small enough to have been from my first years playing.“I have no idea what to do with these.I don’t want to display them, but I don’t want to get rid of them either.”
“You could keep them—maybe if you have kids, they’d wear them?”
My cheeks grew hot.“Yeah.That’s a good idea.Would Arne like one?”
Her forehead creased.“You don’t even know him.”
I held up my cast.“I have his autograph.”
Mia bit her lip.
I pressed my point.“It could be a consolation prize since he can’t go to a hockey camp.I remember wearing my jerseys to school and feeling like I was hot shit.He’d have a throwback.”
She moved her gaze from the one I was holding to the full box.“Are you sure?”
“Pick one that’s in his size.”
The smaller jerseys were near the bottom.Mia pulled out a bright turquoise one that looked about the right size for Arne.The name of the insurance company that had sponsored the team was all over it, but there was alsoJohnsonon the back.
“Thanks.He’ll love it.”Something warmed in my chest.
The next box set off a bomb.Right on top, in a carboard frame from the photography studio, was our grad photo.It was from that golden period when we thought we were getting all of our dreams.
Mia was beaming, staring directly at the photographer, my arms wrapped around her.Our caps were off but we were still in our robes.I wasn’t looking at the camera.I was staring at her.As if she was the center of the world.
Back then, she had been.
“Maybe—” Mia’s voice was husky.She cleared her throat and tried again.“Maybe you should go through this one on your own.”