Out of Play

I hit send on the email as there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call, knowing its Mom. She’s the only one who’s come to see me since I’ve been here. The only one I’ve wanted to see.

“Hey, sweetie. Are you excited to go home today?” She’s smiling as she sits next to me, but I can tell she’s nervous. Makes sense. I’m not sure if I would trust me, either. I feel good, though. Better than I remember feeling in a long-ass time. It’s kind of like Gary said, I’m going back to when things were simple, going to hold on to the things that matter—the things that ground me. I know there’s a lot to deal with. A long road ahead of me, but I actually think I might be looking forward to it.

“I don’t know if excited is the right word, but I think I’m ready.”

Mom’s wearing her hair in a loose ponytail like always and a pair of jeans. She smiles at me before leaning forward to put a hand on my knee. Instead, I pull her into a hug. Struggling, I try to remember the last time I hugged my own mom. God, I was so screwed up.

Mom’s shoulders start to shake, and I know she’s crying. The sniffles start, and I hold her tighter. “I’m sorry, Ma… I can’t believe everything I put you through. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she tries to tell me, but I shake my head.

“It’s not okay. None of it. You protected me. Gave me everything. Let me follow my dream, and I wasn’t man enough to handle it. And I took it out on you… Not letting you go with me to Alaska? God, I can’t believe that.”

“It was me.” She holds my hand. “Who insisted you go… Or do something. I wanted rehab, but I knew you’d never go for it. I’m the one who pushed Don to give you the ultimatum.”

Wow… I didn’t see that coming. “Thanks. For doing that. I probably wouldn’t have…yeah, I might not be here if you hadn’t.”

She cries harder. We sit like that for a long time. Finally she pulls away. Her nails are still the same shade of pink as always. She wipes her eyes. Smiles at me. “I love you, Bishop. I’ll always love you. And I’m looking forward to your future. I know who you are, and that other guy? He wasn’t you. I can’t wait to watch you shine.”

I hug her again. Tell her thank you and that I refuse to screw up this time. I want to be the person she thinks I am. The person I want to be.

She tells me she loves me again, and I know we’re okay. It’s only the start, though. I’m going to keep proving myself. For mom, Pe

“You ready to get out of here?” I’m going home with her instead of my old house. I don’t want anything to do with the guy who lived there.

…

The last thing I ever would have thought I would say is that I actually kind of enjoy going to my meetings. Maybe enjoy isn’t the right word, but I don’t dread them, either. There hasn’t been one I’ve missed. It’s crazy what realizing you aren’t alone can do. I was a druggie and screwed-up. Screwed-up a lot, but it doesn’t define me, and I’m not the only one.

Talking with people, I see that my dad could have been responsible for some of my anxiety, too.

My car gets a lot of my attention. It’s my own form of Troy’s trees.

When I need to be alone, I walk. Sometimes with Gary, sometimes not. Troy and I have even started working out together. Even though I shouldn’t, I can’t help but wonder what Pe

I send her emails, but they’re usually just little things here and there. It took her a while to answer my first one—not that I blame her, she did because she’s strong like that. And like I knew she would, she’s going to school in Alaska. She’ll kick those guys’ asses.

There’s a cab waiting for me outside my meeting. After waving bye to my sponsor, I get in the car and give him the address to my old house. Mom is there when I arrive, waiting on the porch. It’s the first time I’ve been here since I came back to L.A.

“She’s ru

“Okay.” Staring at the house, something hits me. It wasn’t this place I should be scared of, it’s the old me. Maybe this house, saying goodbye to it, is another way to say goodbye to the old Bishop.

My hands don’t even shake as I unlock the door. It’s empty. Mom took care of that for me.

And…it’s only a house. Yeah, it’s the place I’ve done a lot of drugs and other things I shouldn’t have, but that’s all it is.

“You okay?” Mom’s arm slides through mine.

“Better than okay.”

She gives me a small squeeze. “Yeah, I think you are. This is a big step, though, Bishop. Not just the house, but everything. Are you sure it’s what you want? You’re really sure about this?”

Turning toward her, I smile. “More than sure.” And it’s true. So incredibly true.

Chapter Twenty-six

Pe

Mom and Ben drop me off at the motocross track on my way home from physical therapy. If I’m careful, I’ll be playing hockey for UAF in just a few months, practicing with the team in a few weeks.

“Pe

My body tenses, preparing to fight them off. “Oh. No.” I hold my finger up in warning. “Don’t you dare. I wore a skirt as a show that I’m not going to try to ride.”

“Help me with the cripple!” he yells, and in seconds four guys have me in a lock as they duct tape my right arm to my side, wrapping the stuff around me at least four times.

I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt as I try to kick them away. “You assholes!” I yell.

Mitch smirks as he throws his arm over Becca’s shoulder. “Can’t have that arm getting hurt.”

“Seriously?” I widen my eyes and stare down at the tape crisscrossing around my middle. “The stuff hurts my arm hairs, and this shit is getting old.”

Only I’m snorting as I try to keep a straight face, and the guys are still laughing and putting their helmets on for a few more laps.

“Come sit.” Becca moves toward the stands, and I follow her with my stupid arm taped to my side. I wonder what my physical therapist would say about this.

I itch to get on my bike as they tear up the track. Chomps is being sloppy today, and I know I’d kick his ass. “I hate being on the sidelines.” I growl as I sit while wearing one of the many outfits Becca made me get before she agreed we should be roommates. Actually, I think she said we were going to be roommates, but not until I started dressing like a girl instead of a jock.

“You look hot, Pe

“Yeah, well…” And it’s not as weird as I would have thought. I get glances no matter what—being as tall as I am with white-blond hair does that. And anyway, I like the skirts. Fuel for my ego at the very least.

“Go University of Alaska! The school I can afford!” she fake cheers.

“And Mitch is cool with you not following him to Washington?” I ask.

She shrugs, keeping her gaze on him as he runs the track. “He’s not paying my tuition.”

“Right.” But they’re solid. I know they are. I’ve seen the way they stare at each other, and just thinking about it makes me miss Bishop in a way I wish I didn’t.

Becca sits back, and then nerves settle into my stomach as I try to pick out the end of the duct tape to unroll myself and know I’m about to tell her about him. I’m seriously trembling all over, which is crazy because it’s just a few emails. Everything still feels so raw and fresh, even though it’s been more than three months. “Bishop wrote me.” I cough a few times trying to push out the words. “Well, a few times…” This is so strange, having another girl to talk to about this stuff. Kind of cool, too. “Actually, one long email and then every few days he sends something else.”