The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 41: Consequences

~Ben~

I barely slept last night. I was too nervous about this morning's meeting. I kept tossing and turning, so I ended up getting up to not disturb Eleanor who fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow. I must have spent an hour beside Ophelia's crib, just watching her. If anything were to happen, I would be there. Nothing happened, of course, but I felt better knowing I was near her. I finally fell asleep in the rocking chair around three am, only to have my alarm clock waking me up three hours later. I looked like hell. Not even a long hot shower could erase all the traces the last few days left on me.

I almost woke Ophelia up to take her with me. Not because I wanted her to appease the tensions between Mr. Riley and me, but because I didn't want to leave her. I keep leaving her. I keep letting her down. And even if she is too young to be aware of how much of a failure I am as a dad, I keep thinking that one day she'll be upset with me for leaving her when she was just a baby. It's only when I went to say goodbye to Eleanor that I gave up on the idea of taking Ophelia with me. It was her birthday. I was leaving her on her birthday. I wasn't going to take our daughter with me and leave her alone.

Weirdly, I was not nervous at all during the drive to the management building. I still wasn't nervous when I set foot in the elevator after receiving my security badge from the secretary. I only got nervous when I saw Connor's face. He was pacing in the same hallway we waited in the last time I screwed up. He was biting his fingernails, something I never saw him do before, and had this frantic look in his eyes. He didn't say a word to me for the first ten minutes, but when coach Bailey's face appeared through the office's door, Connor turned to face me and whispered in my ear: "You better not screw this up, mate." Connor's British accent is only audible when he's angry or upset. His family immigrated here when he was only ten, so I guess that's why I didn't figure out he was British until a few years into our business relationship. I grab his arm to stop him from walking in the office.

"I thought you explained everything. About Ophelia?" It's my turn to sound frantic. I don't even recognize the sound of my own voice.

"I did, but you still missed a practice and a game, Benjamin. They're not going to let it go that easily." I hate when he calls me Benjamin. I hate when anyone calls me Benjamin. It means they're mad at me, and I hate when people are mad at me. I take a deep breath and start walking towards the office. Coach Bailey and Mr. Riley are sitting on one side of the mahogany desk I remember from last time. The stern looks on their faces stresses me out. We must stare at each other for about five minutes before one of them starts talking.

"Explain yourself, Johnson," Mr. Bailey says, extending his hand in my direction. I start telling the tale of Ophelia's allergic reaction, but Mr. Riley cuts me in the middle.

"We know that. We want you to explain why you didn't think that contacting someone, anyone, would have been a good idea." His voice is loud, powerful. He interlocks his fingers before lowering his hands on the table. My eyes go from him to Mr. Bailey to Connor who just stares at the floor. My heart beats fast as the stare from two men in front of me doesn't lower nor diminish in intensity.

"I just completely froze, I lost track of time. The only thing that mattered was my daughter. She was all I could think about. She could have died, and it would have been my fault." I feel the tears forming in my eyes, but I do my best to keep them inside. I also ignore the lump in my throat and keep talking. "If I had faced the other way for a few more minutes, maybe she wouldn't have made it. That's what I kept telling myself over and over again, so I forgot about anything else. I spent the last two nights sitting in a rocking chair completely awake because I was afraid she would have a reaction again. I am well aware that it doesn't excuse what I did. I let everybody down by not showing up, and I know that. But this is my explanation. And it is my apology. I am very sorry for missing yesterday's practice and game and I intend on apologizing to the whole team at the next practice." I add that last part with the hope that it will discourage them from firing me. I am out of breath when I finally stop talking. The tears are still threatening to come out, though they are easier to control. The two men look at each other. Bailey raises his brows and Riley sighs before nodding.