Breaking Skin (40 page)

“You’re on in five,” Gwen says.

I’m at a studio in Burbank today, about an hour’s drive from where Derek lives with Celeste and Luke, to tape a segment for a PBS documentary about Jasper Shaw, another NHL player whose life was destroyed by the effects of CTE. He killed himself two years ago after battling depression and violent mood swings.

The producers want me to say what I’ve been saying on all the news shows for the past few months, that recurrent concussions can have severe long-term effects, and going forward, coaches at all levels should be trained to recognize the signs of concussion before they send players back into a game. Scientists have been saying this for years, but for some reason when guys like me say it, people listen, and my phone rings off the hook these days with people who want me to say it.

I read up on Jasper Shaw’s case before I agreed to do the interview, and the details are chilling. His symptoms began with short-term memory loss, although it was different from mine. His family said he’d often repeat the same stories he’d told only minutes ago, and when he was driving, he’d lose his sense of direction going places he’d been to dozens of times.

He had crippling headaches. Sometimes he’d grit his teeth in pain so hard, he’d crack his molars. But his worst symptom, according to his wife, was violence. Even in the initial stages of his disease, Jasper Shaw exhibited violent behavior that was unlike him. His wife believes guilt over striking her and his children was one factor that led to his suicide. He thought they would be better off without him. It’s a heartbreaking story.

With each new case I hear, I can’t help but make comparisons to myself. Sometimes my symptoms are eerily similar and other times, like with Jasper Shaw, they seem insignificant in comparison. CTE presents itself in different ways. My own symptoms haven’t gotten worse, but they haven’t gotten better either. I’m still playing a waiting game, but I’m not sitting around doing nothing about it anymore. I’m educating myself and gaining awareness. The more I learn, the more driven I am to spread that awareness.

Since I went public, the NHL’s director of hockey operations asked me to refrain from commenting until more studies can be done. I politely refused, or maybe I wasn’t so polite. Then the lawyers representing the NHL players suing the league asked me to join their lawsuit, but I’m not interested in suing anyone. I just want to get the information out there so people will know the dangers. I want the dismissive attitude to end, and I want the leagues to stop retaliating against players who speak out.

I kept quiet for too long because I was afraid of the repercussions to my own life, but once the worst happened, when I lost Derek, I had no reason to keep my mouth shut. I was ready to do this. I needed to do it. Nikki was right about that.

In one interview, a reporter asked me why I let my son play hockey if I’m so concerned about the dangers. It’s a good question. I was surprised it took so long for someone to ask it. I admitted a day may come when I won’t let him play anymore, when I decide the risk isn’t worth the reward, but that day isn’t here yet.

In the meantime, I make sure his coaches are keeping him and the game as safe as possible by utilizing strict concussion guidelines and return-to-play protocols. Whether these protocols work has yet to be determined. There’s enough concern out there that different states have established their own guidelines, but they’re not standardized or proven. It seems like we’re all scrambling to make sense of this and find solutions when there may not be any real solution out there. But denying the significance of the problem is no way to solve it. All I’m trying to do is get a realistic discussion going.

When I’m finished here, I have another appointment. Then I pick Derek up at school and we’ll spend the afternoon together. I used to hate that I only got him for two weeks every month. Now two weeks would feel like forever.

Gwen adjusts my collar, and once she’s satisfied with my appearance, I go on set and do my thing. When I finish an hour later, Gwen tells me Lily called and wants me to call her back.

I sigh. Lily calls every day. She’s more worried about me than my folks are. Probably because I don’t fake it as easily in front of her. Especially when she brings my nieces and nephew over and it feels like there’s a giant spotlight shining on the place where Derek should be. Even though Celeste won, I haven’t stopped fighting to get Derek back. I’ll never stop.

Last week,
Sports Illustrated
called and said they want to interview me for next month’s issue. Howard, my agent, thinks I should talk about how I lost my son and why. He’s convinced sharing that part of my life will earn me the public’s sympathy and put a significant dent in Celeste’s image. It could also put pressure on the judge to grant my appeal and expose the quack of a doctor Celeste found to say I was an unfit parent without ever meeting me.

I hate to air so much dirty laundry in public, especially when it concerns Derek, but if this could bring him back home, I’m willing to do it. I’d do just about anything.

Gwen leaves the room to give me privacy and I sit down, loosen my tie, and prepare for my phone call to Lily. The truth is, I love my sister and I appreciate her concern. I just don’t want to talk about shit the way she wants me to all the time. Talking about it doesn’t make it any better.

When Lily picks up, I hear the baby crying in the background. “Bad time?”

She laughs. “Is there ever a good time? If it isn’t one kid, it’s another. How did the interview go?”

“They all want the same sound bite. When I go off script, they usually cut that part out, but these guys wanted to hear everything I had to say, so I’m hopeful they’ll keep it all in.” I wait, but Lily doesn’t talk. “You called me?”

“Right, um . . .” She fades out and just breathes for a second.

Worry creeps in. “Everything okay? Mom and Dad good?”

“Everything is fine, Cole. I stopped by your house today. It’s fine too. Still in the same place.”

I smile. “Good to know.”

“I called to tell you that while I was there, I saw Nikki. She was visiting next door, and she came over to give me something for you.”

Nikki
. My eyes close and my chest constricts. I haven’t heard her name spoken out loud in months.

“Cole?”

I push to my feet. “Yeah?”

“It’s tickets to opening night of the ballet. She says she has a solo, thanks to you. The tickets are a token of her gratitude.”

I grip the phone tighter.
Nikki got her solo
. Despite the sharp pain her name evokes, I’m happy for her. But I know my sister is no fan of Nikki’s, and I’m almost afraid to ask what Lily said to her.

“When Celeste left, you told me why, but with Nikki, I couldn’t get much out of you. She was different, wasn’t she? The way you felt about her was different.”

I don’t want to talk about this. I
can’t
talk about it. After all this time, the wound is still too raw.

“Did you take the tickets?”

“Yes, and I think you should use them. She left two so you could bring a date.”

I rear back. “She wants me to bring a date?”

“Is there someone you’d like to take?”

I close my eyes and search for patience. “What are you playing at, Lily? You know there’s no one.”

“There’s no one because you haven’t moved on, and from the looks of it, neither has she.”

I press my forehead against my hand. It’s easier to deal with Nikki when I don’t actually have to think about her.

“I may have been wrong about her, Cole. When she gave me the tickets, she said some things about you, really beautiful things.”

Beautiful
. That word always calls up images of Nikki. The last time I saw her, she was hobbling around her apartment the night Derek ran away. She was so beautiful and so damaged, it hurt to look at her.

“Would you like to know what she said?” Lily asks.

Even though Lily can’t see me, I shake my head and force myself to block out Nikki’s image. “No.”

“Cole.” She says my name in a scolding tone. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” I fire back.

“What about the tickets?”

“You use them. I don’t want them.”

Gwen knocks lightly before opening the door. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we have to go soon. You’re speaking to a youth group across town in an hour.”

“Look, Lily. I have to go,” I say, glad for the interruption. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then I end the call before she can offer anything further on the subject.

Since when is Lily a fan of Nikki’s? I think about the tickets. Nikki left two so I could bring a date, and that infuriates me. I can’t shake my feelings for her, and that infuriates me too. It’s a fucking tragedy because she and I are not going to end up together, no matter what she says or how many tickets she gives me. I won’t go down that road again. I fought for her and I lost. I’m still dealing with the aftermath.

But the truth is, I didn’t fight as hard as I could have. Once I realized Nikki was saying good-bye, I argued with her, tried to change her mind, and then I gave up. I was too hurt, too blindsided. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was angry at her and at myself for falling so hard in the first place. If Nikki wasn’t willing to fight for us, neither was I.

Not long after that, I got the news about Derek. I was losing him too.

I sink down into the chair. How much more am I expected to take? How many pieces of my heart can I lose before I don’t have enough left for the people who have stuck by me? I’m not afraid. I’m trying to protect myself, and I won’t apologize for it.

My phone dings with a text. I look down to see it’s from Lily, and I release an exasperated breath.

Lily: Please read this. You need to know what Nikki said . . .

With my jaw clenched tight and against my better judgment, I keep reading. I can’t help myself. My eyes move over the screen, taking each word in, silently reacting to the impact like a fist pummeling my chest over and over. When I finish, I glance up to see Gwen standing there staring at me.

“What?” I ask a little too sharply.

“You look like someone took you apart and didn’t put all the pieces back together right.”

I blink at how hard her words hit me, because that’s precisely how I feel.

B
ackstage is complete chaos. I’m brushed by voluminous costumes and bumped by bony shoulders. One of the stage assistants helps me with the headpiece for my own costume, sticking my scalp with pins in her rush to get it into place.

I’m dressed all in blue for my solo, and I take the stage in just a few minutes. The show has gone well so far. I’ve had three costume changes for my earlier dances, and this is my final outfit. Tucked into the waistband of my tights is my ribbon from Miss Emily. As much as I value my good luck charm, the real blessing of the night comes from two people sitting in the audience.

Renee and Langley are out there watching. The stage lights make it too bright for me to see them, but I know they’re there. I don’t know if Cole is in the audience, but it feels as if his eyes are on me each time I go onstage.

It’s probably just wishful thinking. Hundreds of eyes are on me. There’s no way I could feel two particular ones.

The headpiece is finally in place, just in time to hear my cue for the royal wedding scene. The other dancers form a circle and I step out into the middle with Dean, ready to begin our pas de deux.

I thought I’d shake with nerves when this time finally came, but I’m calm and confident. As I begin the dance, it feels like a dream. The spotlight shines on me and when the music plays, it flows through my body, coating each muscle. I move fluidly through the steps and as I dance, I picture Miss Emily smiling down on me, pleased that I’m feeling the music just the way she taught me, utilizing all my emotions onstage.

I think about Langley and how bright her smile is when she sees me. I feel thankful for the way my relationship with Renee has grown and is finally evolving past all the pain we’ve experienced. And then there’s Cole.

Whether he’s here tonight or not, my time with him taught me something. Just because there’s been nothing but sadness in my past, that doesn’t mean there can’t be joy in my future. Joy and sadness are two sides of the same coin. They’re both intrinsic and elemental in life, like a beating heart or a breath moving through your lungs. When the universe flips that coin, you have to deal with whatever you’re given. You have to recognize the joy when it finally comes, and you have to believe you deserve it, no matter how long the sadness has lingered.

Cole used to say that he and I were stronger together, but I had to become stronger on my own before I could pull my weight in that equation.

Applause wakes me from my reverie. The dance is finished, but tomorrow night I’ll do it again, and the night after that too. I’ll become the bluebird each night and lose myself in the dance so I can find myself again at the end.