They found the gate and their mom hugged them both. Alex thought he saw a tear or two in her eyes.
“You okay, Mom?” he asked. “We’ll be back on Wednesday.”
“I know,” she said. “But this is the first time you two have traveled alone….”
“We’ll be fine,” he said.
“I know you will,” she said. “It’s just that you’re both so…grown up. I mean, look at the two of you!”
Alex was now six one, meaning he was about six inches taller than his mom. Even Molly was closing in, no more than an inch or two shorter than she was.
Alex couldn’t think of anything comforting to say at that moment. He and Molly weren’t going to get shorter—or younger—anytime soon.
“Mom, you’re the most beautiful mom I know,” Molly blurted.
It was the perfect thing to say. Their mom lit up.
“Let me know as soon as you get there,” she said.
A voice called “All aboard.” Alex gave his mom one more quick hug, and then he and Molly headed for the train.
The visit started out well. Much to Alex’s relief, their dad was waiting for them when they came up the escalator at North Station in Boston. He had texted them that he might be a few minutes late, but he wasn’t late—a good start.
His dad had moved into an apartment in the north end of town that had a nice view of Boston Harbor. They went to dinner that night at Legal Sea Foods, and Alex and Molly caught him up on what was going on in their lives. Alex kept waiting for his dad to ask about his mom’s date, but he said nothing.
The next night, they all went to see the Celtics play the Knicks. Alex and his dad had often gone to games, but this was different: Dave Myers’s law firm had apparently purchased four of the TD Garden’s front-row seats—right on the court.
Spike Lee seats! The great film director had made the seats famous in Madison Square Garden by taunting opposing players from only a few feet away when they were playing against the Knicks. Lee’s antics had become so well known that his verbal duels with Reggie Miller, the former Indiana Pacers star, had become the subject of a documentary.
An usher escorted them to their seats, and Alex was stunned to see Carmelo Anthony, the Knicks superstar, practicing his jump shot a few feet away.
“This is why I wanted to get here early,” his dad said. “I thought you’d like to watch how the pros warm up.”
It wasn’t all that different from the way the Chester Heights Lions warmed up, except that the Knicks and Celtics casually took shots from much farther out than Alex would have dreamed of shooting and made quite a few of them. Alex was transfixed watching Anthony when he noticed that someone was walking right toward them with a security guard trailing in his wake. He looked more closely and saw it was Brad Stevens, the coach of the Celtics.
“Is this our injured player, Dave?” Stevens said, shaking hands with Alex’s dad as if they were old friends.
“This is Alex,” his dad said. “And his sister, Molly.”
“The soccer player,” Stevens said, smiling. He shook hands with both of them and then pointed at Alex’s cast.
“How much longer?” he asked.
Alex was stumped by the question. Not because it was difficult—somewhere in the back of his brain he knew the answer was another week to ten days—but because he was staring at Stevens in disbelief.
“He’s hoping to get it off before New Year’s,” his dad said, recognizing the stunned look on his son’s face. “With luck he’ll be ready to go when conference play starts next month.”
Stevens smiled and looked at Alex. “Your dad said you tore a tendon. I did the same thing in college. I came back and was as good a shooter as I’d ever been.” He smiled again. “Of course, I wasn’t that good to begin with.”
That brought Alex back to planet Earth. He laughed.
“Coach, it’s really good to see you guys playing so much better this season,” he said, happy to learn he still had a voice.
“Well, we couldn’t be much worse than last year, could we?” Stevens said. He put out his left hand again. “It’s nice to meet you both. Good luck with the wrist, Alex—it’ll be fine, I promise.”
Alex and Molly shook hands with him, as did their dad, who said, “Thanks for this, Brad. I really appreciate it.”
“Have a great holiday, Dave,” Stevens said, and turned to go back to work.
Alex was staring at his dad in amazement.
“His best friend from college is a partner in the firm now,” his dad said. “When I knew I was going to bring you guys tonight, I asked Ted if there was any way Brad might come over and say hello. I know what a big Butler fan you were.”
Alex had become a big fan of Butler when Stevens had coached them to back-to-back national championship games in 2010 and 2011. He tried to model a lot of his game on the way Gordon Hayward, the Butler star, played. He’d been excited when Stevens had taken the Celtics job. Now he felt even more connected to the team.
The Celtics won the game, thanks to a Marcus Smart three-pointer in the final seconds that he took from right in front of the Myers family, and Alex walked out of the arena feeling as happy and relaxed as he had felt at any point since the move to Philadelphia.
He’d thought it might be weird staying with his dad in a new place, but the trip was going great. It’d been nice to just hang out with his father again. And he had met Brad Stevens!
That feeling lasted about twelve hours.
Their train home on Wednesday didn’t leave until late afternoon, so they had most of the day to be together.
“You guys can sleep in. Then we’ll go have lunch up at the club,” his dad said. “We’ll eat in the grill room and sit by the fire like we used to.”
His dad was a very good golfer and had joined the Country Club in Brookline, one of the most famous golf clubs in the country, a few years earlier. Alex had been wondering if he could find a course in Philadelphia. He’d made real progress the previous summer but hadn’t played at all after the move from Boston.
The club was just as warm as he remembered, and they got a table almost right in front of the fireplace. Alex and Molly were ordering hot chocolate when Alex saw his dad’s face light up. He followed his gaze and saw a tall, fashionably dressed woman with shoulder-length dark hair heading in their direction. Alex’s dad stood up and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “When I pulled up, the valet was nowhere in sight. You should talk to someone about that.”
Alex almost snickered. His dad had always laughed about the “club snobs,” who valet-parked their cars instead of just finding a spot themselves. He noticed Molly was staring at the woman and had a fierce look on her face. She looked exactly like their mom when she was angry.
“Alex, Molly, I want you to meet someone,” his dad was saying. “This is Megan Wheeler.” He paused for a moment, and Alex had the sense that Megan Wheeler was waiting for him to add something to the introduction.
Alex was right.
“Megan,” he added, “is my fiancée.”
Things went downhill quickly from there.
Later, Alex wondered exactly what his dad could have been thinking to deliver the news that he was engaged at the same moment he was introducing his new girlfriend to his kids for the first time. But in that moment, he was just stunned.
Molly’s instantaneous shriek was greeted by a glare from Megan Wheeler. But it snapped Alex out of his stupor long enough for him to stand up and say, “I’m Alex.” He considered adding Nice to meet you, and then passed on the idea.
“And this is Molly,” his dad said, stating the obvious. Molly managed to put her hand out but recoiled at the same time.
“Dad, how can you be engaged to someone?” Molly said. “You’re still married to Mom.”
“Legally, that’s true,” Dave Myers said, pulling a chair out for Megan to sit down. “But your mom and I have worked everything out. Obviously, Megan and I won’
t be getting married until the divorce is final. After all, I wouldn’t want to be accused of bigamy.”
If that was supposed to be funny, no one at the table saw the humor in it. Alex had given up on the notion months ago that his parents might get back together. But he was still worried about how his mom would take the news.
“Does Mom know?” he asked.
“Of course,” his dad said as if the question were insulting. “But really, this just happened over the weekend.”
A waiter came up to see if Megan Wheeler wanted something to drink. She asked for a glass of chardonnay. Alex glanced at his watch. It was 12:08. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone drink wine this early in the day.
“You know, Alex, Molly, I hope we’re going to be very good friends,” she said. “I understand your surprise at all this. It did happen rather fast.”
Alex studied her. He guessed she was about the same age as his parents. She was not as pretty as his mother. She wore a lot of makeup, a good deal of jewelry, and what looked like expensive clothes.
“So where do you work?” he asked, desperate for a neutral topic of conversation.
“I’m a party planner,” she said. “That’s how I met your dad. I was in charge of putting together his office Christmas party, and—”
“Wait a minute,” Molly said. “His office Christmas party was last week. You just met last week?”
Megan Wheeler laughed as if Molly had just told the funniest joke in history.
“No, no! Last year’s Christmas party,” she said.
“But we didn’t start seeing each other until this fall,” Alex’s dad said—too quickly, Alex thought.
Alex wanted to be fair. He’d just met the woman. But already he didn’t like her. And it wasn’t just because she was marrying his dad.
“So what do you study in college to become a party planner?” he asked, realizing too late the question was rude. Megan Wheeler realized it too.
“I majored in art history,” she said coolly. “I worked in New York at MOMA until I moved to Boston and my partner and I started our company.”
“MOMA?” Alex said. “What’s that?”
“The Museum of Modern Art,” she answered.
The waiter came back with her drink.
“Davey, you never told me you had such inquisitive children,” she said.
“Davey?” Alex and Molly said together.
The waiter asked if they were ready to order. “I need a minute to look at the menu,” Megan Wheeler said.
“Why don’t you bring me a scotch and soda,” Davey said. “And then we’ll order.”
Alex had never even thought about ordering a drink before. But for one split second he was tempted to say “Make it two.”
Alex’s dad had tried to make conversation through the rest of lunch—telling Megan Wheeler all about the accomplishments of his two children. Alex supposed she could have looked more bored, but he wasn’t sure how. The plan had apparently been for Megan to come to the train station and see them off, but as they were leaving, she said, “Davey, I have one of my headaches. I’ll just go home from here.” She turned to Alex and Molly and said, “I’ll see you both again soon, I’m sure,” and Alex wondered if that was a promise or a threat. At least she made no attempt at a phony kiss goodbye for either one of them. He was pretty sure that Molly would have screamed at the top of her lungs if she had.
Once they were all back in the car, heading for the train, Molly lost it.
“Dad, how could you?” she yelled, and then burst into tears. She was crying so hard she was shaking.
“Moll, I’m sorry,” their dad said. “But I did tell you both I was seeing someone. And Alex tells me your mom is seeing someone too.”
“One date!” Alex yelled, surprised at how loud his voice was inside the car. “She’s not engaged!”
“It just happened,” Dave Myers said. “I never planned it that way.”
“But, Dad, she’s horrible,” Molly wailed.
His dad looked at Alex in the rearview mirror for support.
“She’s right, Dad,” Alex said. “I mean, what a snob.”
“You don’t know her yet,” their dad said.
“We know enough,” Molly answered.
The hugs at the train station were quick and awkward. Alex’s dad pulled over to the curb and jumped out of the car just long enough to help Molly get her bag and to wish them a Merry Christmas and tell them he would see them in Philadelphia soon.
“You okay, Moll?” Alex asked as they walked inside to get out of the frigid wind.
She was rolling her bag behind her and wiping the tears away with her free hand.
“No, I’m not okay,” she said. “How can I possibly be okay?”
“He has the right to move on with his life, just like Mom does,” Alex said. “I know this is kind of quick—”
“Quick?” she scoffed. “Quick? He had her picked out before we even left town. But that’s not the worst part. That woman is awful! What is he thinking?”
Molly had always been a precocious little kid. She was right too—what was their dad thinking? He was still young, he was a good-looking guy, and he was a very successful lawyer. Why would he get engaged so fast? And to a woman who might be attractive but was clearly an absolute snob. It was baffling—and upsetting.
They both slept for most of the train ride, totally wiped out. Alex was actually happy to see the skyline of Philadelphia come into view.
He had never thought anyplace but Boston would be home. Philadelphia might not be home either, but after the last twelve hours, he felt a lot more comfortable being here than there.
Christmas was a long day for Alex.
Opening presents in the morning with Molly and his mom was nice. But then they went to his aunt and uncle’s house. His cousins were six and four, and Alex had no desire to sit on the floor and play games with them. But that might have been better than the adult conversation about who the likely presidential nominees were going to be.
He finally escaped to the den, where he was able to turn on an NBA game. Unfortunately, the one he cared about wouldn’t be on until late that night: the Celtics and his new best friend, Brad Stevens, were playing the Lakers in Los Angeles.
He tried not to think about his father and Megan Wheeler. His mom, who had clearly been briefed by his dad while they were on the train, brought it up on the car ride home from the station, causing Molly to burst into tears yet again.
“I’m sure she isn’t as bad as you think,” Linda Myers said. “She was probably just as nervous as you were.”
“We weren’t nervous, Mom,” Alex said. “We were mad—at Dad.”
His mom tapped the rearview mirror for no reason—a nervous habit. “Well, I told him his timing wasn’t great. He should have just introduced you and then told you about the engagement later—without her there. But he said she wanted it that way.”
“Yeah,” Molly said, sniffling. “Whatever Megan wants, Megan gets.”
Alex hadn’t disagreed.
Now he took comfort in calmly watching a basketball game by himself—no one crying, no one arguing, no one demanding he play with trains or listen to talk about presidential politics.
“Thank God for basketball,” he murmured.
On Sunday afternoon, Alex went to watch his teammates practice. Coach Archer had asked them all to be back on Sunday unless they were on extended family vacations. They were cramming in three more nonconference games—two before school even started again. There were games on Tuesday and then Friday (the day after New Year’s) and then the next Tuesday. Then on Friday the ninth, they’d start their conference schedule. Alex was hoping to play in the last nonconference game as a warm-up. He would be playing in the conference opener.
Everyone had made it back, including, sadly, Zane Wakefield. He and Alex exchanged nods, nothing more, when he walked on court before practice began. Everyone else came over for left-handed shakes or hugs, including Jonas, who he knew
had been in New York for Christmas. They had texted regularly, so Jonas knew about his dad’s engagement.
“You doing okay?” Jonas asked.
“Been better,” Alex said, before they were interrupted by Steve Holder coming over to say hello.
Both coaches came over too.
“It’s really nice of you to show support for the team by coming,” Coach Archer said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know; you told me,” Alex said. “But I thought I should see what you’re working on, since I’ll be playing in a week.”
“When do you go back to the doctor?” Coach Archer asked.
“Tomorrow morning. I’m hoping the cast will come off then.”
Coach Archer nodded. “Good. Call me or text when you have news.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Coach Archer turned to whistle everyone to the circle to start practice. He hadn’t asked about Alex’s mom. Maybe, Alex thought, he didn’t need to ask.
Dr. Taylor was waiting in the outer office the next day when Alex and his mom walked in.
“Technically, we’re closed until next week, except for emergencies,” he said, answering their question before they could ask. “But I knew you’d really want to try to get that cast off today, Alex.” He smiled. “Plus, Pete keeps telling me how much the team needs you back as soon as possible.”
“That’s really nice of you, Dr. Taylor,” Alex’s mom said.
“Anything for the cause,” he said. “Come on back and let’s take a look.”
He took the cast off, then carefully began poking his fingers around various places on Alex’s hand, wrist, and arm. When he got to what he called the “hot spot,” he pressed down lightly. Alex felt nothing. He pressed a little harder, and Alex felt a little pain. He tried to mask it, but the doctor saw the look on his face.
“It’s okay, Alex. It should still hurt a little bit when I do that. But it’s nothing like it was two weeks ago. I want to do a quick X-ray just to make sure nothing shows up.”
The Sixth Man Page 9
