Page 134 of On Thin Ice
Soon our food arrives and we all dive in hungrily. I pick up a piece of the black truffle burrata toast and take a bite. My eyes widen as I chew and swallow. “Yum! This is fantastic!”
Mabel beams. “It is!”
The thick and chewy bread smothered with creamy cheese and earthy truffles is rich and decadent. And I don’t even care that I’m eating bread.
I sample the mozzarella sticks and fried ravioli, and snitch a couple of Marek’s fries, while listening to the guys talk, laughing at their jokes, and sipping my excellent cabernet sauvignon.
“Okay,” Marek says when empty plates have been cleared. “Gotta go, buffalo.” He looks at me. “Chop chop, lollipop.”
I crack up laughing and shake my head as I slide along the banquette.
“What’s the rush?” Ben asks.
“I’m going to the hospital. Will’s there again for his chemo, and I said I’d come see him after the playoffs.”
They all nod and make noises of approval.
“Season’s over, man. That’s going above and beyond,” Nash says.
Marek shrugs. “No big deal.”
It is a big deal. He’s making a sick child happy. And I love him so much. I take his arm as we leave the restaurant, hugging it to me.
I feel so, so lucky. And yes, I do still feel guilty for that. Maybe I always will. But I’ve learned so much from what happened. Nothing can ever be perfect. Not music. Not me. And I’m trying to feel grateful for the things I have without the guilt.
I love music, but music isn’t all I am. And Marek loves all of me. Does love heal all wounds? I don’t know, but I do know healing takes work. Sometimes, hard, painful work. You have to love yourself first. And healing doesn’t just come from being loved; it comes fromgivinglove. We’ve both learned that learning to love and be loved takes courage.
Walking along the sidewalk in the sunshine past old brownstones, quaintly angle-parked cars, and potted shrubs and flowers, my heart brims with pure, incandescent happiness. I look up at him. “You’re the only love I’ll ever know.”
He smiles. “No matter where this road may go.”
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