A Hockey Tutor (17 page)

What the hell? How dare she tell me who I was or had been? I'd never changed. I was Katie Miller. I took another chug of the bottle and put it down. If I kept going, I was going to be sick, and I wasn't going to do that to myself.

With Lindsay’s dress and shoes still on, I fell into bed. Then the tears started again.

**

I didn’t make it to class the next day, and I didn't care. I took a hot shower and lay on the couch watching cartoons, because it was the only thing that was on that wasn’t remotely related to romance.

Lindsay had left for class early, and I had no clue if Andrew was in class or not. I knew he had a game tonight, but I wasn’t going to any of that shit. My head was still pounding from last night's tequila binge, so I didn’t move around a whole lot.

A knock at the front door brought more throbbing to my head. I slowly got up and answered it without looking through the peep hole. Standing on the other side was someone I didn’t expect: Mr. Moore.

“May I come in? It’s quite cold out here.”

I nodded, stepping aside for him to enter my apartment, shutting the door behind him. “I guess you’re here for the money, huh?” I figured this morning I would have to return what I hadn’t worked for.

“On the contrary, Katie. I came to make sure you fulfill your obligation.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I can’t tutor Andrew anymore.” I shook my head and looked down at the white socks on my feet.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who went back on her word. Our agreement was the whole semester, and that is what you’ll do,” he stated mater-of-factly.

He was right; I didn’t go back on my word, and even though I didn’t want to do it, I would.

“Katie,” Mr. Moore sighed. “I don’t pry into Andrew’s love life, or lack thereof, but I think something needs to be explained.”

”You don’t need to—”

“Katie,” he said, cutting her off. “The reason I bailed him out this
last
time was because I knew he needed you. When Professor Williams described you to me, I knew you would be the right fit for Andrew. I’m sorry I said anything last night. I didn’t realize you two were an item. But I’ve never, ever seen him as upset as he was last night.”

Hearing that Andrew was upset hurt me, but I brushed it away.

“Please accept my apology, Katie, and give Andrew another chance. He really isn’t what you think he is.” He patted my shoulder as he went to the door. “I expect to see the weekly reports still, until the end of the term.” He opened the door, and left.

I stood there in the middle of my living room. I didn’t want to do this, but I had to. I could feel the tears in the corners of my eyes, but I wasn’t going to shed a single fucking tear over Andrew Moore. If I still had to tutor him that would be it.

I picked up my phone and sent the text I dreaded.

Your father is requiring me to finish tutoring the semester with you. Tomorrow at 1 in the library

I put the phone down and flopped back onto the couch. I heard the ping from my text alert. I wasn’t sure if I should pick it up, but I did. It was from Andrew

Fine

That was it. One word. That is what we had come to. I flipped off the TV and sat in silence. Where was Nick when I needed him the most?

I decided the cartoon marathon was not helping me. I got up and went into my bedroom to finish my photography project.

I focused all of my attention on the pictures I had spread out all around me. I hardly noticed when Lindsay came into my room and asked me to come to the hockey game. “Seriously?” There was no way in hell I was going to some stupid game. I didn’t even feel like going to a party later.

When I was finished with the first set of pictures, I decided a good night’s sleep was what I needed. And that’s what I did.

**

I sat at the table in the library, waiting on Andrew. I tried to remain calm, but I was a ball of nerves.

I saw him walking towards me, and I began to shuffle the papers around to make it look like I was doing something, and not staring at him. He sat across from me, not next to me.

Andrew spoke first. His voice was rough, and I could hear the hurt. “Are we going to talk?”

I mustered every sad feeling I had, and turned it to hatred. “We are going to talk about school, tests, projects, and anything class-related. If you want to talk about anything else, you can just forget it.” When I stared right into his eyes, I saw that they were bloodshot, and I could tell he wasn’t sleeping.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” I hissed back, and the tutoring began.

Chapter 22 – Andrew

I sat in the very last pew. My heart hurt. I just wanted to stay in bed all day, until game time, but I didn’t do it. It was Sunday. The congregation shuffled down the aisle, leaving the church, and I remained in my seat. When the church was empty, Uncle Mike sat in front of me.

“I need my uncle right now,” I said.

“I’m right here, Andrew.” He patted my knee.

“How do I fix this?” I knew he could hear my voice crack, because I felt it.

“Talk to her. Keep talking to her, and when that doesn’t work, keep trying harder. If you want her that bad?” he questioned.

“I do. I’ve never felt this kind of pain, not even when Mom died. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, my hockey is suffering, and all I want is her. She’s all I want.” I can’t get the image out of my head of her face, and the way she was on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. It was so hard for me not to pick her up and protect her from the hurt she was feeling, .But it was my fault she was hurt, and she didn’t want me around.

“I have to go.” I got up and was about to leave.

“Andrew Michael Moore.” I stopped in my tracks and turned to my uncle. I knew it was serious if he used my full name. “I love you, but don’t do anything stupid.” I could see the the worry and fear in his face.

I stepped forward and hugged him. “I promise.” He hugged me tightly back.

I drove to Katie’s house. Uncle Mike was right; I needed to talk to her. I parked behind the BMW, which she wasn’t driving anymore. There was snow all over it, and I knew it had been sitting there since that night at the Capital Grille. I knocked on the door, and Lindsay answered.

“She here?” I asked quickly, somewhat out of breath.

“In her bedroom.” She stepped to the side and let me in.

Katie’s door was open, so I just waltzed right in and shut it. She looked up from the pictures on her bed, and rolled her eyes.

“What do you want, Andrew?”

“We need to talk,” I announced.

“Is it about school?” She tossed the pictures that were in her hands.

“No, it’s about us.” I crossed my arms.

“Ha, well there is no ‘us’, so you can leave now.” She scooted off the bed and went to open the door, but I put my hand up to keep it shut.

“Yes, there is an ‘us’, and you’re going to listen,” I growled at her.

She got right up in my face. “Five hundred dollars.” Katie stated.

“What?”

“Well, isn’t that what you rich people do, just buy anything you want? If you want to talk to me, it will cost you five hundred dollars. I prefer cash,” she said coolly.

“Fine, you win, Katie. You don’t want to be mature enough to have a real conversation, then fine.” I opened the door and left, leaving the only girl I ever loved behind.

I couldn’t do it. I could reason with her. She was too stubborn to listen to me. Even though I remembered what Uncle Mike said, there had to be another way to get her to understand and let me explain.

I went home and fell into my bed. I missed my mom. She would have been able to help me get through this, and I needed her. I knew the game was coming up in a couple hours, but I didn’t care. It was the first time I didn’t want to play hockey, but I knew that I had to go.

I had played the worst game in my career. I was pulled in the third period, and Crusher had to finish it out. I was pissed because it was all Katie’s fault. If she had just listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.

I didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room. I just showered and left. I didn’t even speak to Franks when I got back to the house. I went to my room and went to sleep.

**

I was sitting in class as Katie entered. She looked amazing, but I blocked it from my thoughts. I was surprised when she sat down next to me.

“Good morning, Andrew,” she said formally.

“Katie.”

That was the only non-work-related word we spoke the entire day. I hoped that was a sign that she was coming around, but I could see the anger was still in her eyes, and I didn’t know how to make that go away.

Chapter 23 – Katie

“Look, I just want to tutor you, and then finish packing so I can leave!” I shouted at Andrew. He had sent me a text saying we were going to make a detour before our session today.

“I have somewhere to be, and it’s important, so please get your ass in the truck and let’s go!” he yelled back to me. I didn’t even know he owned a truck, but I guess with his money he could buy anything he wanted.

“Fine.” I didn't know why I was doing it, but I got into the truck. “You’re probably just going to some strip club anyway. I might as well go and get a drink myself.” I snapped.

He pulled out onto the main road. “Oh, yeah, because that’s what all college guys do at three o’clock on a Tuesday,” he grumbled.

Neither of us said a word to each other as he drove to the other side of town. We pulled up to the back of a warehouse, and there were several men in the parking lot. A few waved to Andrew, and he pulled alongside them, putting the truck in park.

“You can get out if you want,” he said. “It’s going to take a little while for them to load the stuff up.” He pointed over to several large wooden boxes next to the workers.

“What’s in all the crates?”

“Crack,” he said without missing a beat. “I figured I would serve it with my Thanksgiving dinner. You know, to keep the party going.” He shrugged.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” I rolled my eyes.

“That is my plan B. You know, if this NHL thing doesn’t work, or my dad’s money runs out.” He got out of the truck and went over to the men.

I watched as the men put the crates into the back of the truck, and I watched Andrew interacting with everyone. His smile was bright, and he seemed happy. It pulled at my heart, because I wasn’t the one making him smile; just a bunch of stupid crates.

When everything was loaded up, he shook everyone’s hands and hopped back into the truck. We didn’t say anything as we drove to another location. This time I did know where I was. It was the homeless shelter attached to a large Catholic church.

When Andrew parked the truck, a priest with gray hair waved at him. Andrew went straight for the man and hugged him. This time I did get out of the truck.

“Father Michael, this is Katie Miller,” Andrew introduced me.

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Andrew talks about you all the time.” He shook my hand.

I was in complete shock. Why would Andrew talk about me to a priest? “Um, thanks.”

“Andrew, take care of all this, please. I’m going to take Katie inside to stay warm.” Father Michael opened the door, and I followed him into the building.

We walked down a long hallway, through a large dark door into a small office. It seemed plainly decorated, but I wasn’t sure, since I'd never been in a priest's office to know if this was how they normally looked.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“No sir, I’m fine,” I said politely.

He chuckled. “You can call me Michael if it makes you feel better.”

“Sorry.” I cringed because I didn’t want to offend him. “I’m not Catholic, so I'm not sure how to address you.”

“I’m not offended in the least.” He smiled at me. He smiled like Andrew.

I glanced at the wall to my left and saw a whole bunch of pictures. They seemed to be family photos. Well, I guess he could have relatives. Duh, of course he has a family. I shook my head at my stupidity.

“That’s a beautiful family,” I said, trying to make small talk.

“Thank you. I’m very proud of them myself.” He stood next to me, admiring the same view.

There was one in particular that caught my eye. It was a young boy next to a younger version of Father Michael, and a stunning woman. I giggled. “That kid looks like a miniature Andrew.”

“Well, he should. That is Andrew.”

“Wha—what?” I must not have heard him correctly.

“Andrew is my nephew. My baby sister,” he pointed to the woman in the picture, “was his mother.”

“
Was
his mother?”

Father Michael’s face was solemn now. “Yes. Michelle passed away two years ago, in a car accident.”

”Andrew didn’t tell me,” I said quietly.

“It was very hard on Andrew.” He stared at the picture of his sister, and I could tell that he had been very close to her. “It was hard on all of us.” He turned back to me. “She was the glue that held us together.”

“He never talked about her. I assumed that she wasn’t around, not that she was . . .gone.” I didn’t want to use the word ‘dead’; it felt too final.

“Andrew tends to keep things inside.” He tilted his head and studied me for a few seconds. “That is what he did with you.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned him.

“I told him that he should tell you everything he was feeling, but he didn’t, and now he thinks he’s lost you.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “But I see that same light in your eyes as in his. You love each other so much, but you both have your walls up, not wanting to be hurt again.”

“He lied,” I whispered.

“Yes, he did.” Father Michael took Katie’s hands in his. “But I happened to be a big believer in the power of forgiveness.”

Would I be able to trust Andrew again? Would I be able to open myself up to him, tell him how I felt, and risk being hurt again?

“May I ask you a question, Katie?”

I nodded.

“Who was it?”

I furrowed my brow. “Who was who, sir?”

“Who did you lose?”

I stood silent for a moment, tears forming in my eyes. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “My brother. He was killed in action in Iraq three years ago.”

“That’s a hard loss for you to bear at such a young age.”

I nodded.

“My advice?” Father Michael said, his voice soft. “Andrew is a kind and caring young man. Tell him. Trust him. Lean on him. I believe it will be immensely healing for both of you.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Although, since he is my nephew, admittedly I am a bit biased,” he said kindly.

“What is he doing here? Why did he bring me here today?”

Father Michael’s face lit up, “Andrew organizes and helps pay for the homeless shelter’s Thanksgiving dinner. It was a tradition his mother started when he was young, and he has continued it since her passing. It is very important to him, and you are very important to him, so I can only assume he wanted to share it with you.”

I was stunned.

Just then Andrew walked through the door He looked at Father Michael and said, “Everything is done.”

“Excellent,” he exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Andrew.”

“You’re welcome, Father Michael.” He walked over to him, and they hugged.

Father Michael extended his hand to me. “You’re welcome back anytime, Katie.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

I followed Andrew silently out to the truck. I had so many things to say, so many emotions I was feeling, I didn’t know where or how to start.

“Father Michael told me who he was,” I blurted out.

He nodded.

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear about your mother. I—I didn’t know,” I stammered.

“How could you?” he said softly.

“It’s admirable of you to carry on her tradition, helping the people at the shelter.”

He remained quietly, focusing straight ahead of him.

Andrew pulled up behind the BMW, almost complete covered in snow. I hadn't driven it since the night of our fight outside the Capital Grille. Seeing it, driving it, just made me think about Andrew. I wanted to say more to Andrew, to take his uncle’s advice and trust him, open up to him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. “Happy Thanksgiving, Andrew.” I looked deep into his sea blue eyes.

He paused, then leaned towards me. I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he turned back and stared at the steering wheel. “Happy Thanksgiving, Katie.”

My heart ached, but I didn't let it show on my face. I nodded, and walked into my apartment.

**

The normal six-hour trip home turned into almost eight hours. As much as I loved the snow, I hated driving in it.

Pulling onto Spruce Street, I could tell nothing had changed. There was the same post office, the same volunteer fire department, and the same small, one-room town hall building.

I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home. The white siding matched the snow on the ground. I sat in my car, looking at the house. It didn’t matter how many times I walked into it, I still got butterflies, wishing, hoping that Nick would be at the table. But I knew that he wouldn’t be.

I grabbed my bags from the passenger seat and headed towards the house. I knocked the snow off my boots before entering. The aroma of cinnamon flooded my nostrils the second I opened the door. Mom had been baking.

I smiled, thinking about her homemade pies. She was the best cook in town; she had the blue ribbons to prove it.

“Mom? Dad?” I listened for a moment, but no one responded. I saw the note on the table:

Had to run into town. Be home soon. Love, Mom

I took in a deep breath. I would go ahead and run to the cemetery. I went back out into the sun and cold, and back into my car. I drove to the edge of town, where the road ended.

Some of the graves had been decorated for the holiday, but most of them were covered with snow. I parked my car and walked over to my brother’s grave.

I could tell Mom had been there recently. There was a wreath, in fall colors, with a small turkey sitting next to the headstone. I plopped down in the snow. The cold, wet snow soaked through my pants, but I didn't care.

I brushed the snow off of the stone.

Nicholas James Miller

Beloved Son and Brother

1988 - 2011

It had been three years, but it felt like yesterday. I rubbed the ‘N’ and I hated it because it reminded me that my best friend was gone. But I couldn't take it off.

I closed my eyes and gave in, letting my thoughts wander back to that night:

“I hate school!” I yelled as I busted through the back door. I went straight for the fridge. “Do you even know how much homework I have? A ton. I mean it, too, a
ton
of homework. Gosh, you’d think with Spring Break coming up they would ease up and cut us some slack.” I pulled out the pitcher of tea and poured myself a glass. I turned to see both of my parents there, just sitting at the table. Usually only Mom was home at this time. The looks on their faces were somber, and my heart dropped.

“Katie,” my dad said quietly. “We need to talk.” He got up and took the glass from my hand, putting the pitcher back into the fridge.

“What—what’s wrong?” I stuttered. I began to shake.

As soon as I saw Mom’s tears, I collapsed on the floor. “No!” I screamed; my father kneeling beside me, pulling me close to him. They never had to say the words, because I knew. I knew Nick was gone.

I sobbed into my father’s chest as he rocked me. My mother joined us, and we all three sat there on the kitchen floor and cried. My soul had been ripped from me. My best friend, my protector, my brother . . . was gone.

I pushed out of my parents’ arms and ran up to my room. I was angry. He had lied to me. I trusted him and he had lied. He told me he was coming back, he gave me his word.

I slammed my door shut and unleashed my fury on everything in my sight. I took off my shoes and flung them at my vanity mirror, shattering it. I tore through my dresser, yanking out all my clothes. With one swipe I shoved everything off the top of my dresser. Anything that stood in my path I threw, tossed, or crushed.

“Katie!” my dad shouted, grabbing me from behind.

I screamed as loud as I could. “He lied! He lied! He lied!” Over and over the words poured out of me, until I was nothing more than a heap on my bedroom floor. I cried until I was dried up of tears.

I opened my eyes as the hot tears streamed down my cheeks. The pain was still there, and I wondered if it would ever go away. Only when Andrew and I were close did I feel the pain ease, and my heart start to heal and open up again. But he broke my heart too.

I couldn’t stop sobbing as I stared at the words etched on that stone. I cried because I missed my brother, and I missed Andrew. I missed Andrew so much. The warmth of his hand in mine, the tenderness of his fingers rubbing the inside of my wrist, the joy I felt when he kissed me.

“Katie.” I screamed, and leapt to my feet at the sound of my name.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Andrew Moore was in Malden.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What? What? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He took a step closer to me.

I stepped back, in front of my brother’s grave as if I could protect him, and my secret.

“Talk to me, Katie.”

“I can’t.”

“You
can
.”