O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

BETH

“ T hank you for making the time to meet with me. While there are several topics I want to cover, I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

“Jesus, Beth,” my sister Tara chides from the laptop in front of me. “You’re acting like this is a job interview.”

I feel like this is a job interview. To be honest, I put more preparation into this than I did when I was interviewing for positions I really wanted. The outline I made is next to me on the bed. Several prompts and talking points are highlighted in bright pink and yellow. I’ve mapped out all of the objections I’m expecting my family to raise and how I will respond to each one. They’re there to remind me of the goals I’m trying to accomplish and help me stay on track.

But this is not an interview; it’s a video call with my immediate family, minus Ally and Ben. Ally is on a night shift at the hospital. Ben’s on his way to Florida with his team and while he offered to join the call for support, I told him I wanted to do this on my own.

No, I need to do this on my own. I may have only requested the family meeting earlier today, but in a way I’ve been preparing for this for most of my life.

“First of all, I want to apologise for not telling you earlier that Foster and I were dating. I can understand if you felt hurt, but the relationship was new and we didn’t–”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Sweetie.” My dad holds his palm out to the screen, momentarily obscuring my mom’s face. “You don’t owe any of us an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I mean, I don’t really think I owe them an apology either, but I’ve found that people respond better to criticism when they feel mollified. “I don’t?”

“Well, I, for one, would have appreciated finding out from you directly,” my mother states in a tone that makes it clear she’s still disappointed in me. “But I’m going to be the bigger person, as usual. So everything is fine. We’re all very excited to see you on Friday. Foster is more than welcome to come, too. The more the merrier.”

Slack-jawed, I glance down at my notes for direction, but this is not a scenario I prepared for. Four days ago they wanted me to end my relationship with Foster and move home. Now everything’s peachy and they want me to bring him for the holidays?

None of this makes sense.

“Well, great. That’s great.” I should just accept this change of heart for what it is: a rare gift. But a nagging suspicion that they aren’t telling me everything won’t allow me to let this go so easily. “What changed?”

Six eyes stare back at me like they didn’t understand the question .

“Tara?” I ask because, say what you will about my oldest sister, I can always count on her to tell it like it is.

“What do you think changed?” She scoffs. “They talked to Ben and he blessed the union.”

And there we have it. This was not my parents coming to the conclusion that as long as I’m happy, they’re happy. This was Ben giving the all-clear and them falling in line.

I’m not surprised. I’m not even disappointed. I’m just so tired of being treated like what I want doesn’t matter.

“It wasn’t like that.” My dad looks sheepish. “I called your brother to talk about the recent line changes. He told me that he’d been wrong before and that he actually thought that you and Foster would be a good match. Then we talked some more about hockey and that was that.”

“So, let me get this straight.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “If Ben was still against Foster and I dating, you would be too? But since he’s come on board, you no longer have a problem with us as a couple. Did I get that right?”

“I’m still pissed you didn’t tell me,” Tara smirks. “But I never had a problem with who your boyfriend was.”

“I don’t understand what the issue is,” my mother titters as she waves a hand dismissively. “We’re okay with you dating your brother’s teammate.”

“The first problem is that he’s much more than Ben’s teammate. The second is that you’re okay with it for the wrong fucking reason.”

My mother gasps audibly and my father’s mouth hangs open. It’s the first time I’ve ever used that kind of language in front of them, so I suppose it’s understandable, but I’m not about to apologise.

“I’m tired of being treated like what I want doesn’t matter. It’s always about what Ben wants or thinks. I used to resent him for the way our lives revolve around him, but you were the ones who made it that way. You missed most of my band concerts because Ben had a game. I had to have my tenth birthday party at a rink because Ben was in a tournament. Everything was always about him and even now that I’m an adult, nothing has changed. You care more about Ben’s feelings than mine. You value his opinion more than mine. And I’m done pretending that I’m okay with that.”

Tears blur my vision, but I don’t fight them back. I’m done acting as though it doesn’t hurt to have every decision I make questioned, every opinion dismissed with a patronising smile.

“I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never done anything to make you question my character or judgement. I just want to feel like you’ll support me regardless of my choices. Because being with Foster is one of those choices. He’s kind, and supportive, and makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to. And even if Ben were to change his mind next week, I would still choose Foster because he is what and who I want.”

The silence from my laptop speaks louder than words, but that’s fine. I’ve said what I needed to say.

“I’ve got a lot to do before I turn in for the night, so I’m going to say goodnight. I’ll see you in a few days. I love you all.” I end the call and collapse in a sobbing mess on Tamara’s couch. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but eventually the tears run dry and I’m spent. I feel better, I think. A bit lighter, like a knot that’s always been inside me has finally started to loosen.

Just as I’m about to go wash my mascara-stained face, my laptop chimes an incoming call. I’m startled to see that my parents are calling back.

I accept the call and my parents’ faces come into focus. I see that I’m not the only one who’s been crying.

“I had no idea you felt that way.” Dad sounds more like a lost little boy than the man who raised me.

“Well, I do,” I sniff, noticing that it’s just the two of them. “Where’s Tara?”

“You know how she gets when tears are involved,” he chuckles. The second someone starts to cry, my sister can’t get far away fast enough. “She told us you weren’t wrong, then left.”

“I’m sorry that I just dropped all of that on you,” I hedge.

“No, Beth. We’re the ones who are sorry.” My mother’s voice wobbles. “We were so focused on Ben’s hockey career for so long, I don’t think we could see how it was affecting you and your sisters.”

“It was all-consuming for a while,” Dad adds. “Once they told us he could make it to the NHL, we knew we’d have to make sacrifices. But we shouldn’t have let it take over everyone’s lives.”

“And we never meant for you to feel like you don’t matter. You matter so much, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I’m a bit overbearing sometimes, but it’s only because I worry, and I’m your mother and I want to protect you–never that I didn’t trust you.”

My mother just admitted to being overbearing. I can’t believe I’m not recording this call.

“Really?” I ask, feeling the pressure behind my eyes build once more .

“Of course. Whatever decisions you make about your life, your father and I will support you.”

“So you’re okay with me dating Foster?”

“If he makes you happy, we’re happy,” Mom insists.

“And you don’t mind that I live in Ottawa?”

“You can move anywhere you like and we’ll come visit,” Dad assures me.

“What if I decide to get bangs?”

My mother bites her lip. “I really don’t think you have the bone structure to pull them off, but if you really want them I promise not to say anything.”

I choke out something between laughter and crying. My parents aren’t perfect, but I know that they love me and want me to be happy. I’ll take it.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot. Because Foster makes me really happy and I love it here in Ottawa.”

“We’re so glad,” Dad says thickly.

I add, “And I have no plans to get bangs.”

“Oh, thank the good Lord,” Mom breathes.