Page 44 of The Tryout

Finn must have snuck back into the kitchen after his shower because I turn around to find him there, eyes wide and pointing at himself as if to ask Who, me?

I nod and he goes pale, drifting out into the living room with his own protein shake.

“Yeah, that slap shot’s gonna end up on the kid’s highlight reel. Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“I did.”

Of course Dad is still watching my games, even though he has to do it on some random app that costs ten dollars a month and contains nothing but subpar hockey. At least when I was at UCLA, the TV package got him football and basketball, too.

“Well, we transferred the money from your investment account into your checking account. There should be enough for either, and a little leftover just in case.”

“Awesome, thanks. I’ll send you a picture of whatever I end up going with, okay?”

With an exchange of I love yous, we hang up. Finn is still in the living room, staring at me with an indecipherable look on his face.

“What’s up?”

“You can’t get a bigger car because of me.”

I’m confused for a moment until I play back my conversation with Dad in my head.

“I mean, why not?”

Truly, I don’t understand his problem with this.

“Well, bigger cars cost more, right? You can’t pay more money just because it will be easier to carry my bag. I can walk.”

I shrug.

“Sure, but I like giving you a ride. It’s not a big deal.”

His hands are squeezing his shaker bottle hard enough that I’m worried the plastic will shatter.

“Ok, well then let me pay you some money every month. I should do it for gas, anyway. You’re already paying a lot for the apartment, so let me at least help with the car payment.”

I roll my eyes and hold a hand out for the shaker bottle, hoping to save it from Finn’s sudden angst.

“Dude, it’s my car. I like having space for cargo, and I’d be driving anyway. Besides, I’m not gonna have a car payment.”

“You’re…not?”

I shrug as I rinse off the dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

“No? Why would I want a loan when I can buy the car outright? It’s dumb to pay interest if you don’t have to.”

Placing the last plate on the bottom rack, I load the soap and start the cycle.

“You wanna come with? I’m terrible with picking colors – Dad thinks I’m just a little colorblind.”

He shakes his head, silent.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out, then. I’ve got an appointment with the dealership at 11:30.”

As I close the front door, I can’t help but wonder why he’s still standing there, pale and worried-looking.

The trip to the dealer goes better than anticipated. I was right about the Forester, which is definitely a better size for a hockey player all around. They have the trim package I want – yes, please, heated seats – in a pale blue-gray that reminds me of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

The dealer is more than happy to help facilitate returning the rental, and by two o’clock I am the proud owner of a new car. I take a selfie with it to send to Dad, Pops, and – after some thought – Finn.