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When he took a step back, my grandfather nodded once and turned to make his way slowly toward the truck he had driven for the past fifteen years. It was in bad shape, rusted along the sides, but I knew that if I bought him a new truck, he would never drive it.
I waited until he started the truck and drove out of the parking lot, waving at me as he drove past. I got in my car and made my way toward the closest sports supply store to get more KT tape. I needed to tape my shoulder to attempt to stabilize it, even though it would never be the same as it had been pre-injury.
Bells clattered above my head as I stepped into the highly airconditioned space. The layout had changed since the last time I was there, and it took me a moment to find what I was looking for. I grabbed a few rolls of kinesiology tape and turned toward the cash register.
A messy strawberry-blonde bun caught my attention, and I tilted my head, wondering if I was simply imagining Jessa in the sports store with a cart full of hockey pants. She tossed another pair of junior CCM Tacks pants into the cart, stuffing them along the side.
I moved toward her without thinking, wearing the biggest grin possible. What was I going to say to her?Hey. What’s up?It was obvious what she was doing…but why was the real question.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked, frowning when Jessa’s shoulders shot up.
I had startled her, but my frown slipped away when she turned to gape at me with hazy green eyes.
Her brows furrowed. “I can manage, thank you.”
Jessa began pushing her cart away from me, but I followed like a dog on a tight leash. She turned her attention to a row of elbow pads, scanning through the various options until she found the Sherwood Rekker elbow pads on sale. She grabbed one of each size, tossing them into the cart without looking.
A pair tumbled out onto the tile, and I scooped to grab them, straightening to face one annoyed Jessa.
“Why are you buying all of this?” I motioned toward her overflowing cart.
A warmth spread across her face, and I couldn’t tell if she was pissed or embarrassed. “Does it matter?”
I held the junior small elbow pads hostage, shifting until they were fully out of her range as she tried to snatch them from me. “It does to me.”
Hands flopping defeated against her side, Jessa sighed and peered up at me. “I’m buying them for work.”
She wasn’t giving me much, but I was going to keep tugging until I got exactly what she was doing with nine pairs of hockey pants and eight pairs of elbow pads.
“You know what I do for work, but I don’t know what you do.”
Jessa sucked her lower lip between her teeth, mulling over whether she was going to give me what I wanted. “I work for a non-profit program that places children and youth in minor hockey programs by covering the registration, equipment, and transportation fees. We’re running low on equipment so…” She motioned toward her cart. “I’m getting more.”
My jaw went entirely lax, and I gaped at her. Jessa stared, entirely confused, back at me and with a nod, she walked away. I shook myself out of my stupor and followed her.
“Power Play?” I asked, and she stopped.
“Yeah.” She peeked at me over her shoulder. “That’s the one.”
“I know about Power Play.”
Another slow nod. “Okay…cool.”
Before she could turn and walk away, I reached for her elbow, holding her in place. Jessa glanced down at my hand and then back up at my urging gaze.
“I know about Power Play because I was in the program. I wouldn’t be where I am today without it.”
My mother had worked two jobs and still couldn’t afford the registration costs for minor hockey, let alone all the equipment that went with it. A co-worker at the pharmacy she worked nights at mentioned Power Play to her when she talked about how desperately I had wanted to be in a hockey program.
When I was six, I joined hockey for the first time, entirely sponsored through Power Play. I went to their office each year and traded my equipment that no longer fit for a fresh pair of skates, shin guards, chest protector…everything.
The program gave me a chance to not only be a kid, but to be a kid that would eventually be signed with the AHL in a two-way contract.
That kid had big dreams, and those dreams meant being in the NHL by twenty-five… Yet here I was. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get my shot, and if I should just get arealjobas my grandfather often grumbled.
“Really?” Jessa breathed. “You should be a success story for the program. Kids would love hearing that an AHL player went through the program and has achieved so much…”
Achieved solittle,I wanted to correct her. Especially in the eyes of a child. NHL was the dream, AHL was the reality, and ECHL was the nightmare. I thankfully hadn’t been sent down to an ECHL team, but at the beginning of my career, that had almost happened.
