Reverie

Epilogue

“How nervous is he?”

Jordan turned his head, a smile forming on his face as looked over the small woman next to him. The diamond band on her finger still shone as brightly as it had years ago. His fingers twitched to feel the velvety soft skin he had been lucky enough to touch.

“He barely slept last night,” Jordan said, running his hands over the leather steering wheel. Fallon let out a small laugh and shook her head as she continued to look out her window as large buildings came and went.

She was always the calm one, the one who told Jordan to shut his mouth if he was being uncharacteristic. He had gone through hell and back for this woman and there was no chance he was letting her go. Especially now.

The ride to MTS Centre was taxing for Jordan. He was worried about the negatives. What if he didn’t get picked? But Jordan knew that was stupid to think about. He was a Top 4 pick for the draft. But what if he got drafted to a place that Fallon wouldn’t want to move to? Again, that was a stupid idea. She would give up comfort if it meant being near her family.

Here they were. Draft day. It wasn’t his draft day but it may as well have been with the nerves he had.

The couple walked towards their seats, finding their grandson in a deep conversation with his agent. From the blonde hair on his head to his baby blue eyes. There was no doubt that he was a Staal.

“You look good, Grey.” Jordan hollered, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

The boy turned suddenly, eyes in a deep glare before softening in realization. His shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh, hugging both Jordan and Fallon. “I was worried you wouldn’t get here.”

“And miss this big day?” Fallon smacked her grandson’s chest lightly.

Jordan watched as Fallon fussed over Greyson’s hair. Once they found their seats it felt like hours before the draft began. Greyson fidgeted in his seat, his hands busying with everything he could find in sight.

“Keep that up and we’ll be able to use that for confetti for Emma’s next birthday.” Jordan chuckled. Greyson gave a sheepish smile before brushing off the torn up pieces of paper from his thighs.

“What if-” Jordan held his hand up and gave a soft headshake.

“No what ifs. You will. You worked hard for this and you deserve it,” Greyson nodded, “don’t beat yourself down.”

Jordan had his own doubts before he arrived at the arena. And he wasn’t sure if he believed his own words but he spoke with great conviction. But he knew this was what his grandson needed to hear, to believe in, even if his dreams could be crushed. The first two picks were chosen and it felt like time was ticking by slowly.

There was no way to decipher whether Jordan or Greyson was the most nervous as they sat side by side watching the managements of the next team make their way towards the stairs.

“On behalf of the LA Kings…” Jordan squeezed Greyson’s shoulder, “we are proud to select from the Kitchener Rangers… Greyson Staal.”

You know that feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach? Not the bad kind but the kind where you don’t know whether to scream or cry because everything you dreamed for came true? That’s what I felt when you won the Stanley Cup. It might not have been my own dream but you and I are one.

Your dreams are my dreams.

Jordan sat frozen in his seat. He finally understood Fallon’s words.

“Nono,” Jordan looked up from his spot. Greyson stood with his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, a smile that reminded him of the Cheshire Cat.

In a nanosecond he jumped to his feet, wrapping his grandson in a tight hug, his laugh coming in short spurts. Jordan pulled away and watched as Greyson descended the stairs, his hands pulling off his suit jacket, smoothing out his shirt before he carried on. He gets that from Fallon. Jordan laughed his own thoughts watching as the young boy kept walking, a feeling of sheer happiness in the pit of his stomach seeing Greyson climb the stairs to the stage.

A lump formed in Jordan’s throat as his eyes caught the distinct black and white jersey fall over Greyson’s shoulders. The prominent ‘LA’ on his grandson’s chest. He made it.

“You did it.” Fallon whispered, tears in her eyes.

Jordan wiped them away quickly shaking his head at his wife. He couldn’t take all the credit. “No, baby. We did it.”

•••

… 7 Years Later

Greyson watched as the trees whirled by as they drove away from his childhood home. He felt empty… destructible. There was so much harboring inside of him he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. Why?

He was in the middle of a game when his coach rushed him back towards the bench. He was rarely called back to the bench so what could it have been? And then he heard it. Greyson’s world came crumbling around his feet, the only words he comprehended were ‘accident’ and ‘passed away’.

His grandparents sat in the front of the car, looking back at both him and his little sister Emma every few minutes. An empty feeling ate away at him as he slid his thumb along his phone as picture after picture with his parents popped up. I’m sorry. That’s all he could say to himself. He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. He just wanted them back.

Earlier, Greyson refused to enter the funeral home, sitting outside the doors with his grandfather next to him. They didn’t speak a word to each other. It was what he wanted. A constant beep cut through the silence, scaring both Greyson and Jordan. He searched frantically for the noise, pulling up the sleeve of his dress shirt up to find the watch his mom had bought for him because he was always so late to dinner.

A quiet sob escaped him and before he could stop his body doubled over and a violent cry ripped through him. He hadn’t shed a tear since the news and there it was. Punishing him for holding back for so long.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not school. Not hockey. Nothing. This was karma, karma for his selfishness. It was always about him and hockey. Not about his mom or dad. It wasn’t even about Emma, it was all Greyson.

The blame he put on himself overtook him mentally and all he could find himself doing every night in his bed was saying the same words since they had passed away.

I’m sorry.

Greyson swallowed the lump in his throat giving a small smile towards the camera. He hadn’t meant to get lost in his own thoughts. It’s been years since he last outwardly spoke about his parents. He wasn’t ashamed, no. It just brought back the darkness.

“So what made you get back into the hockey grind?”

“My Nono and Nona,” Greyson blushed as he realized he didn’t say ‘grandparents’.

“It’s a funny story, actually. It was close to two in the morning and my grandpa comes barging into my room with an air horn. I swear, I nearly shit my pants that night. Staal men never do things the easy way,” the host laughed and shook his head. “My grandpa threw clothes at me and all he said was ‘come outside’. I sat there like ‘is he fucking crazy?’ but I followed his instructions anyway. I was a teenager full of angst so you can only imagine my mood then. I went outside like he asked and I saw my grandma decked out in goalie pads while my grandpa was setting up the net. Can you imagine a small old woman in bulky gear? I was so confused but walked towards them and then I felt my feet give out from underneath me. I landed so hard on my back and it was then I realized that they had made a homemade rink for me. It… it was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you feel like you were pressured to get back into hockey?”

Greyson sat back in his seat, fingers grazing his lips. “No.” He gave a soft smile.

“Hockey is home for me. It’s something my family share with one another. I didn’t understand it at first but seeing my Nona all padded up at two in the morning made me realize the importance of the sport. It brings my family together. It’s who we are.”

The host fired more questions and Greyson answered them diligently giving viewers a slice of Greyson Staal’s life. His personal life was just that, personal. He didn’t want to share the darkest years he endured. He didn’t want to share his love life or lack thereof. He wanted to show the world his first priority… not hockey but his family that stood by him for every twist and turn.

Greyson looked out towards the camera, the infamous Staal smirk on his face. The camera slowly panned out and before it clicked off there was a shot of the elegant black ink etched on his forearm. The mantra that his grandfather drilled into him. The very thing pushing him further into the future.

Your dreams are my dreams.

•••

Back in Thunder Bay, where Greyson's heart called home, Jordan let out a hearty laugh.

His job was done.