I look over to where Harris stands airing out his junk while smelling his socks.
“Yeah, well, I’m over all the clowning for the moment. Including yours, dumbass. Later.” I head out of the room, passing coach’s office door, thankful he’s on the phone. He doesn’t bother glancing up.
Making my way to the parking lot, I weigh the cost of living next door to my son. It will be tight, but I should be able to make it. Though it would be more money smart for me to live with Harris and take the free ride, it’s time I make a stand where Dante is concerned. Clarissa still refuses to cash the checks I mail, though I know she needs them, but teaching must be paying off because the house she rented is a pay grade above her last two places.
Now might be the time to finally stake my claim for a place in his life, but the fear is real. I don’t want to make her life any harder, but Dante’s passed the point of recalling his first memories, and I’m determined that from this day forward, I want as many of his memories as possible to include me.
“Dude, where’s your head at?” Kevin asks, nudging me.
“Huh?” I ask distractedly pulling out my keys.
“You constipated, man?”
“What?” Kevin keeps up beside me as I head toward my truck.
“I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes, and the whole time you’ve had this ‘need to shit’ look on your face. What in the hell are you thinking about?”
“Nothing…coach. He seems off. You know what’s going on with him?”
“No clue. But God help us.” Kevin does the sign of the cross as I unlock my truck, and he jumps in the passenger side.
“I told you to find a ride.”
He shoots me a devilish grin. “Just drop me at the library.”
“When are you going to take the hint? She’s not feeling you, like at all.”
“Nah, she loves me, she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Fine, and I hate to say it, bro, but you’re setting yourself up for failure.” It occurs to me then that the statement might be just as true for me as it is for him.
Tracey’s Incredible Breakfast Bake
Wildlife Photographer, California
Makes 8 servings
45 minutes
1 Can Flaky Grands Biscuits
8 Ounces Shredded Cheddar Cheese
½ Cup Milk
5 Eggs – Beaten
1 Cup Cubed Ham or Cooked Ground Sausage
Cut each biscuit into quarters. Mix all ingredients together saving biscuits for last. Pour into a greased 9x13 casserole dish.
Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes.
Clarissa
After a quick stop at the market, I pull up to Dante’s daycare, and his teacher greets me as he climbs in the back. “Hey, Peanut, have a good day?”
He wrinkles his nose. “It was a five at most.”
His teacher and I share a smile. “Hi, Tammy.”
“How are you, Clarissa?”
“Hanging in there. A few more days of mental prep and I think I’ll be ready for another year of teaching teenagers.”
“I don’t envy you,” she chuckles. “I like them much younger. Especially this little stinker.”
“I’m fond of him too,” I say, glancing back at Dante as he buckles in. “Most days.”
“He got in trouble for trying to record on his phone during naptime.” She hands me his cell.
“Sorry about that. He knows to leave it at home.” I direct my sharp tone back his way, so he knows I mean business.
“I’ve seen his videos, they’re pretty awesome, and my son loves them too. You’ve got a budding star on your hands.”
“Don’t I know it,” I grin. “But I’ll have another talk with him.”
She ruffles his hair. “This one is bound for great things, and we had a talk today, no worries.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Have a good one.”
“You too.” She shuts the door, and I glance back in my rearview.
Dante sinks into his seat, ready with an excuse. “It was only a minute.”
“Son, we’ve gone over this.”
“But I’m too old to nap.”
“Uh uh. You’re getting to be a big boy, but I need a few workdays before school starts. Just hang in there. Big school in two sleeps.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I’ll do better.”
“You are better. You’re the best.”
“I know,” he deadpans. I laugh, and he nods toward the dash. “Old Town Road.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No. No way.”
“PLEAAAAASE,” Dante orders in the same tone I use when I’m at my wit’s end.
“Motown?”
“No Motown! Old Town.”
“Is there any other song?” I implore for mercy. “Like anything? I’ll listen to tribal music, French rap, I’ll even try bluegrass. Anything but that song.”
“Mommmmmy,” he whines impatiently.
I lift my head to the heavens. “Why, Lord, why? You gave him “Achy Breaky Heart,” wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t you have just stopped there? Did he have to make another hit that was so annoying it makes you want to chum up and feed yourself to the sharks?”
Dante giggles behind me. “What is “Achy Breaky Heart”?”
“It’s just as ridiculous as “Old Town Road” is, but for you, I’ll play it. If it will keep me from hearing that song one more—”
“Fine, “Baby Shark” then!”
“God, no! “Old Town Road” it is, you little diva!”
My cell rings just as I hit play.
“HA!” I say as Parker’s name flashes on my screen, and I show it to Dante. “Saved by Auntie Parker.”
Dante kicks the back of my seat. “Fine. I guess you can answer it.”
“Well, thank you very much for your permission, son.” I hit answer and cradle the phone into the mount on my air vent. “You just saved my life by calling.”
“Oh?” She says sweetly. “Why is that?”
“Your nephew wants to hear that song again, and this time, I may have driven us off the road. What is it about that song?”
“What song?”
“Old Town Road,” Dante pipes up behind me, making sure Parker knows he’s present. There’s only one person on earth he loves more than her, and I’m the lucky one.
“Oh, I love that song. Hey, Duckie!”
“Hi, Auntie Parker!”
“What’s wrong with “Old Town Road” anyway?”
“Never mind. You suck. Worst best friend ever,” I grumble.
“Mommy, that’s not nice!” Dante scolds. “It’s my favorite song.”
“Mine too,” Parker giggles when I let out a miserable groan.
“It is not. You are so fired. Seriously, why can’t you agree with me, just once?”
“Sorry.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“No, you’re not. And in order to make it up to me, you have to stay on the phone for fifteen minutes, so I don’t have to listen to it.”
“I’ve got time to kill.”
“Heeey,” Dante protests behind me.
“Quiet, son, adults speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls out his tablet from the lip of my seat and puts on his headphones. When I hear one of his downloaded videos start, I know I’m in the clear.
“How’s London?”
“London is fine.”
“And the other part of London?”
“Not fine. Horrible. It was the worst blind date in the history of ever. He didn’t know I was supersized, and I didn’t know he had skin scalp. We both exaggerated the truth, and not only that, we were both too picky to live with it. Isn’t that sad? I’m going to be the old lady in the home who talks to her shoes.”
I can’t help my laugh. “You are not.”
“I am. I’m going to be that woman who wears the same sweatsuit and has in-depth conversations with her bunion cradling loafers. Just promise me something?�
�
“You’re ridiculous, but what?”
“Promise you’ll wax me.”
“Wax you?”
“The only thing worse than being the old lady who talks to her shoes is the old lady with a unibrow and a mustache that talks to her shoes. Don’t let that be me, buddy. Please, don’t. I’ll set up a fund specifically for waxing. Promise me.”
“First,” I say taking a right that leads us toward home, “you won’t end up in a home because you’ve got me.”
“You’ll be married.”
“I’ll outlive him.”
“Great. You’ll be mopey, and I’ll be hairy.”
“Hush. When are you coming home?”
“Not for another three weeks at the least.”
“Gah, this sucks. I miss you.”
“Same here.”
“Sorry about your date.”
“I have a chest full of tartar sauce to clean up. I swear these tits are a shelf.”
“You’re nuts,” I giggle.
“Well, dinner was on him, so I went bananas with the fish and chips. It was the least he could do for orgasm denial.”
“Agreed.”
“Clarissa?”
Her tone turns serious, and instantly, I wish she were in front of me. I hate that her job requires so much travel. We’ve been inseparable since our freshman year at Grand, more so after I gave birth to the love of her life.
“Yeah, babe?”
“He’s out there, right?”
“Yes, and he’ll love you like crazy.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.”
“Sorry to be needy.”
“It was a bad date. You’re not needy. And starting something there would be pointless anyway, your home is here.”
“True. Kiss that kid for me.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Now, chin up and go clean that tartar off those hooters.”
“On it.”
“Night, buddy.”
“Pip, pip. Cheerio.”
I take the streets that lead toward home thinking of how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date. A year? Longer? I tell Parker all the time to take a chance and put herself out there, all the while not taking my own advice. It’s a lot harder to simply date around with sensitive ears and an impressionable boy to keep in mind. For years it’s been just the two of us, and I’ve been content with that. But I’m not getting any younger and with Dante’s next birthday drawing near, I hear the biological tick getting louder. He’s asked me for a brother or sister on several occasions, and on those, I’ve always been thankful I’ve been able to distract him from the conversation. But my kid’s no pushover, and he’s starting to prod, becoming more demanding. Soon enough, he’ll have real questions that deserve real answers.
The first and one I fear most being, ‘where is my father?’
Troy
After dropping Kevin off, I take the fifteen-minute drive to the house and pull up, relieved when I don’t see Clarissa’s SUV. The rental house is a pale-blue, two-story sitting on a quiet, residential street. It’s a nice spot for a budding family. When Clarissa moved Dante here, my stalking became a lot harder. I’ve had to drive by in the later hours of the night, parking on the opposite side of the street to catch glimpses of them here and there. After long, stressful days on the field, and before work, I take comfort in watching her read to Dante in an old recliner she’s used to rock him to sleep since he was a baby.
Relieved about the delayed confrontation, I take the steps up the porch and glance around. The house is a well-kept duplicate of the one next door. A few rough knocks later, I’m greeted by Theo, who ushers me in while I welcome the burst of cool air wiping my brow. He looks fresh out of high school, a little wet behind the ears. Shaggy, but well dressed.
“AC works fantastic, but the plumbing is slow. I’m Theo,” he says by way of greeting, extending his hand. I offer him mine.
“Troy. Nice to meet you, man.” Stepping into the living room, I scan the furnishings. It’s not anything I’d expect. The furniture is old, the walls mostly bare.
“I haven’t had time to put much up,” he says, closing the door and heading across a decent-sized living room toward an adjacent kitchen. “Something to drink?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Opening the fridge, he scans the contents briefly as I join him in the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of Gatorade, twists off the tops, and hands one to me.
Theo seems to have a decent disposition and a chill attitude. I can already tell we’ll get along well. I dwarf him in size, which is ironic because he exudes an air of authority with the way he carries himself. He reads my mind about our physical differences and commands my attention, drawing a line in the sand. “I may have misled you a little on the peace and quiet. I play a lot of different instruments. I practice in the basement and mostly at night. I’ll work on getting it soundproofed when I can afford it. Needless to say, the basement is off-limits. But the rest of the house is common area.”
“Not a problem, I work nights and sleep like a rock no matter what goes on around me.”
He eyes me curiously. “How do you manage graveyard, school, and ball?”
I’ve been doing it for years to help support my mother, and I’m used to running on little to no sleep, but I spare him the details and shrug. “It’s the only way for me to work a full forty.”
“That’s rough,” Theo says, cupping the back of his neck while silently assessing me.
I shrug. “That’s life, right?”
“Hustler on and off the field, huh?”
“Yep.”
“I can respect that. I am too.”
He gives me a quick tour of the upstairs. Inwardly, I celebrate the fact that from my room I’ll have a bird’s eye view of Dante’s. It couldn’t be more perfect. Theo watches me as I stand in my would-be bedroom, staring out the window. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why your interest in this place?”
“My last roommate is about to marry up, and I don’t want to move in with any of my friends, too much traffic. Just want to get away from all the bullshit, concentrate on school and ball. I’m always up for a good party, but on my own terms, ya know?”
“I get it. But I warn you now if you change your stance, this isn’t a frat house.”
I nod. “Cool with me. I’ll have some friends over to watch the games from time to time, if that’s all right?”
“That’s cool. Lance is quiet. Like a ghost, so it’s pretty uneventful around here. I don’t expect much. Just a few rules. No keggers, pay rent on time, and clean your own shit up.”
I can’t help my grin at his stern tone. I already like him. “I can handle that.”
He smiles back. “Well, other than that, mi casa es su casa.”
“Sounds good. If it’s okay, I’ll take it.” I cringe as I pull out my wallet. “I, uh, shit, this is embarrassing. I don’t exactly have the first month’s yet. This move was sudden, but I’ll have it next week.”
He shrugs as he pulls a key off his chain. “I’ll take half now, half next week.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, man, I’m not hurting for it at the moment.”
“Hey, thanks.” I take the key and pull out a couple bills from my wallet.
“Neighbors are pretty cool. Mrs. Abbot is a widow and travels nine months out of the year to see her kids, and to the right, we have Clarissa and Dante. She’s a single mom.”
Hiding my cringe, I nod.
“Dante is five. He’s a cool kid.”
Father’s pride runs through me at his statement. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, hilarious but a handful. She’s a teacher, so we need to be mindful of them both. But she’s pretty laid back.” He turns to me. “Easy on the eyes. But don’t go there.” He’s only half-joking, and it’s apparent my reputation precedes me. I make no move to correct him because there’s no point. I take advantage of my position on
and off the field when it suits me, which is too often to play innocent. I’m no saint.
“I think I can handle it.”
“I’m not much for yard work…” he trails off as we head downstairs. “But I cook a mean pancake.”
“I’ve got the yard,” I offer. “And I’ve been known to fuck up some pancakes.”
“This’ll work out perfect.” He pulls an instrument case from the floor. “I’m off. Make sure you lock up when you leave every time. Non-negotiable. I have a shit load of expensive equipment downstairs.”
“Got it.”
“Welcome to casa de la Houseman.”
“Thanks, man.”
He leaves me to my own devices, and I spend a few minutes looking around. I have little in the way of possessions, a few in my truck due to the demand of my old roommate and his girlfriend for some immediate space. He all but threw me on my ass the minute she accepted his proposal under the Era Tree and gave me until the weekend to get the rest of my shit out. I make quick work of unloading the few boxes I have when Clarissa pulls up. Nerves of the unknown shoot straight up my spine. Bracing myself for impact, I set my box on the porch steps as she hops out of her SUV in a sundress, her auburn hair catching the light as Dante bursts from the back door. She grabs him by his backpack just as he runs past the hood of the car.
“Dante, I’ve told you a thousand times not to do that. You need to look before you leap. You never know what’s going on around you.”
“Gah, Mom, we’re home. Duh.”
“I’ve got your duh,” she grumbles before circling her SUV and pulling a bag of groceries from the floorboard. “I said, don’t do it, so don’t do it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He runs up the porch steps and opens the screen door. “I’ll get the door for you, m’lady.”
Shaking my head, I watch from the yard as she shakes her own head in amusement while trailing behind him. I’ve been waiting for this moment for almost six years, but fear paralyzes me where I stand openly gaping at them both. I’m so close in distance but so very far away. It’s surreal to have dreamt of this day for so long and have it here. It’s a bold move, but the only one to take. I’m about to meet my son for the first time. And ironically, Dante is the first to notice me when he gets the door open for her.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 29
