Chapter 4 "To Whom Do You Turn?"
When Adam returned to his dorm, he was glad to find Charlie thoroughly engrossed in his homework with loud rock music blaring from his earphones. Charlie managed a small wave but didn't say anything. Adam dropped his hockey bag in the corner and unearthed his phone from underneath a pile of history papers. He was about to dial when he suddenly felt very exposed. He looked around the room. He knew there was little or no chance that Charlie would hear him over the loud strains of Ozzy Osbourne. Still, Adam went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He dialed his brother's number at college and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. As he heard the rings, he suddenly realized he had no idea what to say. He had thought of his brother by instinct, a childhood belief that your older brother could solve any problem you might have. Before he could think of how he would even begin to explain what he was feeling, a gruff, tired voice answered, "Hello?"
At least it wasn't Nathan. It was his roommate, Evan. This bought Adam a little more time. Not much, but ever little second counts. "Is Nathan around?" he asked. "It's his brother, Adam." Evan grumbled something and put the phone down. Adam could only assume he was off to retrieve his brother. A few moments passed and Adam tried to collect his rambling thoughts.
"Hello, little bro," Nathan said. "What's up with you calling me out of the blue? You never call me."
"I call you," Adam said softly, knowing it wasn't really true. School and hockey tended to take over his life, and calling his brother was often the last thing on his mind.
"I'm just ragging you, Adam. But what's up?"
Suddenly everything Adam had imagined himself saying sounded very shallow, superficial, and pointless in his mind. He just started to talk, finding words just pouring out of his mouth. "I'm in trouble, Nathan. I'm…drowning, and I have no idea how to save myself."
"Let's hope you're being metaphorical there," Nathan said, laughing.
"I'm serious. I am in something deep here, and I need your help."
"You do sound pretty bad. What kind of problem are we talking about? School, Dad…is there a problem between you and Amy?" Nathan knew a little about Adam's relationship, from his hurried and all too short emails and their father's not too precise descriptions.
"It's not school, my grades are fine. They actually think I'm going to make top ten, maybe top five. Dad is…Dad. Things are pretty much the same there. And Amy," Adam struggled to find the right thing to say about Amy. Nothing he could imagine sounding good enough. "It's not Amy. She's great. It's…hockey, and the Ducks actually."
"Hmmm. Never thought you'd say that. What possible problem could you have with hockey? Lost your touch?" Nathan couldn't help but give that little jab, knowing that his younger brother was much better at the game than he ever was.
"Very funny, Nathan. I just don't think I want to play anymore. It's not as fun as it used to be. Too much pressure, you know." Adam couldn't believe what he was saying. He never thought he'd reach the day when hockey wasn't fun anymore. "I feel like I should take a break, but I can't let the Ducks down, and Dad…"
"Eeh, Dad. I know what you mean." Nathan remembered very clearly the face his father had made when he said he wasn't going to play anymore. "He does tend to get carried away with these kinds of things, doesn't he?"
"Don't I know it? He'd flip out if I told him I didn't want to play. Especially now that the scouts are breathing down my neck, and Dad's so worried about college, and…" Adam trailed off, running out of steam. He waited for his brother to speak and magically fix everything.
"I'm guessing you haven't told another soul about this, right?" Nathan asked.
"No. I've talked to Amy. She's the one who made me think of calling you. Of course she said if I just talked Dad, or the Ducks, they would understand. I couldn't imagine talking to Dad just now, so I called you," Adam said.
"Your little lady's right, Adam. Talk it out. Talk to Charlie, I'm sure he can at least relate, in some way. He's your best friend." Nathan was pulling the oldest trick in the big brother book, putting the task off the best friend. He didn't know what to tell Adam. He had experienced the exact same problem his senior year in high school, and looking back, he realized he had taken the coward's way out. He simply quit playing. He missed it now, the thrill of the game, the win. He had been a Hawk, and he couldn't watch a single game on TV without hearing the Hawk chants run through his head. 'It's not worth winning if you can't win big.' He didn't want Adam to miss out of whatever great opportunities he had because of his talent. "I'm afraid I can't really help you. I never really figured out that problem myself," he said.
"Well, thanks, bro. You've helped a little, I think. I should really just talk to Charlie. He may not understand me, but at least he'll listen," Adam said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sure you have work to do, or something. I sure do, so I'll let you go."
"Yeah, work. I'm sure there's some of that lying around that I need to get to before tomorrow morning," Nathan said with a chuckle. "Call me a little more often, little brother. I need to keep up with your high school melodramas."
"Will do, big brother, will do. Bye then."
"Bye."
Adam hung up the phone, feeling somewhat empty, and no better off than he had been before he called. Nathan had not saved the day as he had always done when they were younger. But Adam knew that Nathan couldn't live his entire life for him, and that no matter how much Adam wished it otherwise, he would just have to deal with his problems on his own, in his own time. He was lost in this thought when there was a very loud bang on the bathroom door.
"Banks, are you dying in there, or what?" Charlie yelled through the closed door.
"No, Charlie. I was on the phone," Adam returned. He emerged from the bathroom clutching his phone like a life preserver.
"Amy?" Charlie asked, winking.
"No, my brother, Nathan." Before Charlie could ask what he had called for, Adam pressed on. "Just a random, catch up call. I haven't talked to him in a long time, and I felt bad."
Adam sat down at his desk and stared at his schoolbooks. He had reading to do, boring psychology, but he just couldn't bring himself to crack the spine. He stared at a picture on his desk, one taken five years ago, after a random street hockey game. There were the Ducks, all crowded together, Adam and Charlie near the middle of the clump. 'They are part of my family,' Adam thought. 'I can't let them down.' Adam kept repeating this to himself. 'I can't let them down.'
Halfway through the Wednesday practice, Adam almost let the cat out of the bag. He was chatting with Julie and she was asking him about his college applications.
"How are you doing with your aps?" she asked. "I'm almost finished with my first choices, but there are a few more schools I feel like I should apply to, you know, just in case."
Adam nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. I finished my St. Paul ap, but I haven't sent it in yet. I haven't decided what to do about the hockey problem." The second the words left his lips, he realized what he had said, and screamed inside his mind.
"What hockey problem?" Julie asked, confused.
"Oh, I…" Adam tried to cover up. "I'm not sure St. Paul's the best team in the area, you know." Julie wasn't buying it. "It's just a little problem, nothing big." Adam hoped that Julie wouldn't press him for details, and she didn't.
"Well," she said, "if it's a problem I can help with, you know you can always come talk to me."
"I know, Jules. Thanks." Adam didn't get a chance to say anything else because Coach Orion was waving the team back on the ice to continue practice. He skated out with the others, feeling even more that he owed it to this team, his best friends, not to let his stupid little problem get in the way. The Ducks were bigger than him, bigger than his problems.
When Adam returned to his dorm, he was glad to find Charlie thoroughly engrossed in his homework with loud rock music blaring from his earphones. Charlie managed a small wave but didn't say anything. Adam dropped his hockey bag in the corner and unearthed his phone from underneath a pile of history papers. He was about to dial when he suddenly felt very exposed. He looked around the room. He knew there was little or no chance that Charlie would hear him over the loud strains of Ozzy Osbourne. Still, Adam went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He dialed his brother's number at college and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. As he heard the rings, he suddenly realized he had no idea what to say. He had thought of his brother by instinct, a childhood belief that your older brother could solve any problem you might have. Before he could think of how he would even begin to explain what he was feeling, a gruff, tired voice answered, "Hello?"
At least it wasn't Nathan. It was his roommate, Evan. This bought Adam a little more time. Not much, but ever little second counts. "Is Nathan around?" he asked. "It's his brother, Adam." Evan grumbled something and put the phone down. Adam could only assume he was off to retrieve his brother. A few moments passed and Adam tried to collect his rambling thoughts.
"Hello, little bro," Nathan said. "What's up with you calling me out of the blue? You never call me."
"I call you," Adam said softly, knowing it wasn't really true. School and hockey tended to take over his life, and calling his brother was often the last thing on his mind.
"I'm just ragging you, Adam. But what's up?"
Suddenly everything Adam had imagined himself saying sounded very shallow, superficial, and pointless in his mind. He just started to talk, finding words just pouring out of his mouth. "I'm in trouble, Nathan. I'm…drowning, and I have no idea how to save myself."
"Let's hope you're being metaphorical there," Nathan said, laughing.
"I'm serious. I am in something deep here, and I need your help."
"You do sound pretty bad. What kind of problem are we talking about? School, Dad…is there a problem between you and Amy?" Nathan knew a little about Adam's relationship, from his hurried and all too short emails and their father's not too precise descriptions.
"It's not school, my grades are fine. They actually think I'm going to make top ten, maybe top five. Dad is…Dad. Things are pretty much the same there. And Amy," Adam struggled to find the right thing to say about Amy. Nothing he could imagine sounding good enough. "It's not Amy. She's great. It's…hockey, and the Ducks actually."
"Hmmm. Never thought you'd say that. What possible problem could you have with hockey? Lost your touch?" Nathan couldn't help but give that little jab, knowing that his younger brother was much better at the game than he ever was.
"Very funny, Nathan. I just don't think I want to play anymore. It's not as fun as it used to be. Too much pressure, you know." Adam couldn't believe what he was saying. He never thought he'd reach the day when hockey wasn't fun anymore. "I feel like I should take a break, but I can't let the Ducks down, and Dad…"
"Eeh, Dad. I know what you mean." Nathan remembered very clearly the face his father had made when he said he wasn't going to play anymore. "He does tend to get carried away with these kinds of things, doesn't he?"
"Don't I know it? He'd flip out if I told him I didn't want to play. Especially now that the scouts are breathing down my neck, and Dad's so worried about college, and…" Adam trailed off, running out of steam. He waited for his brother to speak and magically fix everything.
"I'm guessing you haven't told another soul about this, right?" Nathan asked.
"No. I've talked to Amy. She's the one who made me think of calling you. Of course she said if I just talked Dad, or the Ducks, they would understand. I couldn't imagine talking to Dad just now, so I called you," Adam said.
"Your little lady's right, Adam. Talk it out. Talk to Charlie, I'm sure he can at least relate, in some way. He's your best friend." Nathan was pulling the oldest trick in the big brother book, putting the task off the best friend. He didn't know what to tell Adam. He had experienced the exact same problem his senior year in high school, and looking back, he realized he had taken the coward's way out. He simply quit playing. He missed it now, the thrill of the game, the win. He had been a Hawk, and he couldn't watch a single game on TV without hearing the Hawk chants run through his head. 'It's not worth winning if you can't win big.' He didn't want Adam to miss out of whatever great opportunities he had because of his talent. "I'm afraid I can't really help you. I never really figured out that problem myself," he said.
"Well, thanks, bro. You've helped a little, I think. I should really just talk to Charlie. He may not understand me, but at least he'll listen," Adam said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sure you have work to do, or something. I sure do, so I'll let you go."
"Yeah, work. I'm sure there's some of that lying around that I need to get to before tomorrow morning," Nathan said with a chuckle. "Call me a little more often, little brother. I need to keep up with your high school melodramas."
"Will do, big brother, will do. Bye then."
"Bye."
Adam hung up the phone, feeling somewhat empty, and no better off than he had been before he called. Nathan had not saved the day as he had always done when they were younger. But Adam knew that Nathan couldn't live his entire life for him, and that no matter how much Adam wished it otherwise, he would just have to deal with his problems on his own, in his own time. He was lost in this thought when there was a very loud bang on the bathroom door.
"Banks, are you dying in there, or what?" Charlie yelled through the closed door.
"No, Charlie. I was on the phone," Adam returned. He emerged from the bathroom clutching his phone like a life preserver.
"Amy?" Charlie asked, winking.
"No, my brother, Nathan." Before Charlie could ask what he had called for, Adam pressed on. "Just a random, catch up call. I haven't talked to him in a long time, and I felt bad."
Adam sat down at his desk and stared at his schoolbooks. He had reading to do, boring psychology, but he just couldn't bring himself to crack the spine. He stared at a picture on his desk, one taken five years ago, after a random street hockey game. There were the Ducks, all crowded together, Adam and Charlie near the middle of the clump. 'They are part of my family,' Adam thought. 'I can't let them down.' Adam kept repeating this to himself. 'I can't let them down.'
Halfway through the Wednesday practice, Adam almost let the cat out of the bag. He was chatting with Julie and she was asking him about his college applications.
"How are you doing with your aps?" she asked. "I'm almost finished with my first choices, but there are a few more schools I feel like I should apply to, you know, just in case."
Adam nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. I finished my St. Paul ap, but I haven't sent it in yet. I haven't decided what to do about the hockey problem." The second the words left his lips, he realized what he had said, and screamed inside his mind.
"What hockey problem?" Julie asked, confused.
"Oh, I…" Adam tried to cover up. "I'm not sure St. Paul's the best team in the area, you know." Julie wasn't buying it. "It's just a little problem, nothing big." Adam hoped that Julie wouldn't press him for details, and she didn't.
"Well," she said, "if it's a problem I can help with, you know you can always come talk to me."
"I know, Jules. Thanks." Adam didn't get a chance to say anything else because Coach Orion was waving the team back on the ice to continue practice. He skated out with the others, feeling even more that he owed it to this team, his best friends, not to let his stupid little problem get in the way. The Ducks were bigger than him, bigger than his problems.