Descent into Ruin: Day 8

Word Count: 48,042

Summary of Events:

Chalmers headed home for Christmas, stopping for the night midway at Matt's house, despite his having not spoken to Matt since the call he'd made in the autumn; Matt had a serious talk with him that Chalmers didn't enjoy, but knew he wouldn't have been able to avoid. In BC Chalmers reluctantly participated in the family present opening where he only got one gift that, as usual, wasn't what he wanted, while his arrogant cousin Jack got five expensive gifts that were exactly what he wanted . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The crown jewel of his gifts was a brand-new Canucks alternate jersey with custom name bar and number on the back. Chalmers had to admit, it was a nice jersey — he’d never minded the Canucks’ blue and green looks — but soon enough he’d have an NHL jersey with his name and number on the back, and nobody he knew would even have paid for it, it would be his to wear in NHL games, not merely at NHL games.

“That… makes twelve,” Jack bragged, holding it up so the back, with its Hackett name bar and number 14, his current favourite number, was facing Chalmers.

“I actually play hockey in my jerseys,” Chalmers replied.

“But none of those are NHL jerseys,” Jack sneered.

“I’ll have one in June,” Chalmers replied. “And nobody’ll even have to buy it for me.”

Jack looked irritated at that remark.

“Sweetheart,” Grandma whispered chidingly.

Chalmers glanced at her and saw her distress. She detested the way he and Jack treated each other. He looked back at Jack.

“You’ll even be seeing my photos on official NHL social medias without my having to post them, or even have accounts on the platforms,” Chalmers added. “And then I’ll be on the ice with the jersey on, with no less than fifteen thousand people cheering me on, as I compete side-by-side with and against seasoned NHLers, cementing myself as one of them.”

“In your dreams,” Jack growled. “I know how your season’s going. You’re not going to get picked at all.”

“It hasn’t been that bad,” Chalmers spat.

Grandma’s hand touched his knee, communicating desperation.

“Deny it all you want,” Jack said. “But I knew you wouldn’t have what it took.”

“You never even got to the level I’m at,” Chalmers said. “Since when does that make you an expert?”

“I don’t need to have gotten to the NHL to see that you’re not going to make it,” Jack replied.

“That’s what you think,” Chalmers snapped, surging to his feet and turning to leave the room with his t-shirts.

“I’m going to paint ‘I told you so’ on the walls of your bedroom when you don’t get picked in the Draft,” Jack said. “Then your precious jerseys with your name on them won’t mean so much, will they?”

Chalmers turned to look at Jack.

“I earned my jerseys,” Chalmers replied. “And I promise you that I haven’t earned the last one yet.”

“You can’t possibly have forgotten that I played organised hockey too,” Jack said, having shot to his feet. “I earned jerseys too.”

“Not as many as I have, or will,” Chalmers replied.

“And who says I haven’t earned jerseys people have bought for me?” Jack demanded.

“They weren’t given to you to make you the member of a team,” Chalmers replied. “They just show that you’re a fan of a team, but you’re not good enough to be on it.”

“You really think you’re better than me?” Jack demanded, stalking across the floor to stand close enough to Chalmers that he needed to tilt his head up to see Chalmers’ eyes instead of staring at his mouth.

“I don’t have to think it,” Chalmers replied. “It’s been proven.”