Busted Play: A Sports Novella

by Stella Marie Alden

  How can I ever go back to impersonal one night stands from strangers I meet in a bar? Fuck it all. She’s ruined me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, babe.” I hate how she reads my mind. I hate how she gets under my skin and I hate that she’s going to leave me as soon as we get married.

  I kiss her and when she comes up for air I say, “We’ll leave on Thursday. Bring a dress for church? My mom’s a real holy roller. You okay with that?”

  She smiles. “Sure. Sounds nice.”

  When we arrive, Mom’s there, arms wide and hugging us like everything is right with the world. In fact, my whole family is on the front lawn, hooting, laughing, and hugging. It takes me almost an hour to introduce everyone but soon, with a beer in my hand, it’s all good.

  I can’t believe how my little nieces and nephews have grown. Baby Carly’s already walking, Drew’s in kindergarten, and the oldest, Theo, is twelve. The others are running around like crazy. Apparently, a small green snake was found in the grass, and the boys are torturing the girls, telling them it’s poisonous.

  Mel’s cheeks are all rosy and the late afternoon sun kisses those freckles on her nose. I’ll bet she’ll have a bunch more before we head home for New York.

  While she’s led away by the women, Andy takes me aside and hands me another beer. I haven’t seen him since we signed all those papers a few weeks ago.

  “What the fuck, bro? You screwin’ her?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “It’s obvious by the way you two move, man. You’re so into her you might as well have it plastered on your football jersey.”

  I sigh, finish the beer, and squish the can with my heel. “Shit. She’s got my head all screwed up. I would marry her for real, but it’s obvious she’s just in it for the wedding money. Counts every fucking cent.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “She doesn’t want to be beholding to me. Who the fuck even uses that word?”

  Andy smirks. “Mom does. C’mon now. There’s some pulled pork on a roll, and some corn roasting on the grill. After a bit, we’ll have a sit down and figure this thing all out. I think you got to let the ladies in on your secret, though. They’ll help.”

  I moan as I walk to the backyard that smells like heaven. I always wanted to be picked up by a southern team but the Giants made the biggest bid, by far. Maybe I ought to rethink my priorities. It isn’t too late. Because of my little screw up, my contract is only for another year. Maybe that’s a sign.

  Mel looks like the girl next door in her summer cotton dress and flip flops. The fact she wears almost no makeup I am sure has ingratiated all the church folks. But it’s more than that. She really is a nice girl. Andy had her pegged before he’d even met her.

  It’s clear she doesn’t belong with me except for a toaster, a blender, and a salad spinner. Once she’s got all that, she can start all over.

  Without me.

  Mom, of course, puts us in separate bedrooms so I don’t even get a chance to tell Mel what I’m feeling. In church, Easter morning, the preacher talks about eternal salvation and when we sing Jesus Christ has Risen, my throat gets all tight.

  Damned if I’m not heartsick right about now. Mel must sense my mood because her hand slips into my elbow as she shares her choir book and belts out the last refrain.

  Hey God. If you’re listening? I think I love a good girl. You think you could arrange that?

  After dinner, one of the guys grabs a guitar, and a few couples start to dance.

  She drags me onto the lawn, holding me tight to her. “You okay?”

  “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “I don’t know.” She smiles and sighs. “I just really like your family.”

  “Make you miss yours?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, I have a surprise for you. Next month we’re booked to see yours. Jaz is paying so no excuses about not being able to afford the flight. Some magazine wants an exclusive on our engagement party out there.”

  She pales, shaking, and I put my arms around her.

  Oh shit. This is not good.

  Chapter 13

  I start freaking out somewhere over the Great Lakes as I pace up and down the aisle of first-class. I want everything to be just right but there’s no way I can handle my screwed-up family. Sure, my father will behave in front of all that media. Then all I have to do is hang with my cousins and make it through the party.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  When I sit back down, my fake fiancé squeezes my hand, inspecting my face. “You worried about seeing your family?”

  “No, no. Just excited.” My smile is forced while a tsunami of memories loom, waiting to break into my consciousness.

  A rough finger tucks under my chin and soft lips caress across mine. “Tell me, baby. What’s going on behind those blue eyes of yours?”

  I can’t lose it. Not today of all days. If only I could share but I won’t let my father ruin CJ’s advert deal. Surely, I can spend just one evening with my family without it turning into a circus. Just in case, I order a double vodka on-the-rocks.

  By the time we set down on the tarmac, I’m ready to take on the world, that is until we get to the baggage area. There, a wave of paparazzi surrounds us and a man in lime pants grabs CJ and puts him in front of a mic.

  While my fiancé starts the speech that he’s been practicing for days, I slip away and into the arms of my favorite cousins, Kaley and Sueann. The same age as me, we were inseparable as kids and after sharing a couple of sentences, it’s like I never left.

  When they ask about the wedding, I need to remind myself it’s all fake, a way to get my life on track. Soon, CJ will have an actress on his arm, or a model, or some other famous bimbo. He’ll go his way, I’ll go mine and I’ll be just fine.

  Tom says our website is getting more hits than ever and the rehab center is getting booked by professional athletes instead of Medicaid. He’s even thinking of opening up a place in Manhattan. With that, I’ll get a good raise and my money worries will be over.

  Why then, do I want to weep?

  My thoughts of the future fall away when I spot my parents accompanied by my siblings and their spouses. I keep waiting for lightening to strike me dead. Everyone is happy and hugging and the cameras are snapping. Why doesn’t God do something? See this for the farce it is?

  My dad hugs me warmly and I stiffen, remembering all the times his hand would slip under my shirt to grope a breast. The room gets smaller, I push him away, and hug my mom.

  She’s got real tears in her eyes as she says, “It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long.”

  Damn. How can such extreme emotions co-exist? I love my totally screwed-up family and yet don’t trust myself to speak.

  I can do this.

  After CJ finishes, he shakes hands with the men of my family and kisses the women on the cheeks. This makes every one of them, including my grandmother, blush. Then he takes my hand and we follow green-pants, who I figure must be Jaz, into waiting limos.

  When it looks like I might be seated next to my dad, I insist CJ get in first.

  He gives me a weird look but I shrug it off and push him forward. “You guys should get to know each other. I’ll sit next to my mom.”

  Crisis averted, we head to the barn. I have to hand it to Jaz. The place resembles a Hollywood ho-down like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Luckily, the hay is just for show, there’s real chairs, and the place hasn’t had cattle in it for years.

  I recognize it as an old auction house from when I was a kid. Some of the larger pieces are on display, like a huge mantel, and a barroom mirror. I wonder how long it took them to clear out all the rest of the junk.

  When CJ starts talking football with my brothers, I wander over to the bar where my sister and a couple cousins have gathered. Without the paparazzi, Stefanie, my oldest sibling, turns her back on me, refusing to even say hello.

  SueAnn gra
bs my arm and says, “Forget her. How’ve you been?”

  We talk about everything I’ve been up to for the last few years while I keep one eye watching out for my dad. After a few drinks, I let my guard down, the sun sets, and a cover band starts up. Then I’m dancing like I’m in high school again having a hoot.

  Suddenly someone taps my shoulder. I figure it’s CJ but then my heart freezes when I turn.

  It’s my dad.

  A part of me wants to rant at him and force him to apologize. Another part of me wants him to say he loves me and is proud of who I’ve become. All of me wants to run but there’s cameras surrounding us and no graceful way out.

  So, we dance and I keep a good three or four inches between us. Me? By now I got pretty good at faking a smile.

  When the media finally disappears, I try to break away but he grabs my arm, preventing my getaway. “Why haven’t you come home, Melanie? You’ve broken your mother’s heart.”

  I’ve never confronted him about the abuse but I can’t let that comment go unchallenged. “I think you know why.”

  “Honestly? I don’t.” Brows creased in concern, he gives me this sad, hurt look, like he’s the victim.

  Holy fuck. He hasn’t changed a bit.

  This is so not the time to have this conversation but my mouth isn’t in sync with my brain. “Jesus Christ, Dad, you sexually abused me. You think that might have some effect on how I feel about coming home?”

  Instead of looking guilty, he chuckles. He actually laughs as I stare aghast. I think I’m going to throw up or perhaps kill him. Instead one stupid tear drips down my face.

  A strong man, he grips my wrist. “You shouldn’t make such a big deal. What we shared was perfectly normal.”

  “Let go of me!” I snap my hand away and dash for the door as it dawns on me that the only person that’s changed is me.

  Why the hell did I think I could handle this? Every fucking emotion crashes into my head and I can’t breathe. In the parking lot, I squat with my face to my knees and try to push away my childhood memories.

  “What happened? Are you sick?” CJ’s suddenly lifting me into his chest and I dig my face into the sweet smell of him, reaching my arms around his back.

  It’s irrational to think this but what if it gets out that my father molested me? What will the paparazzi have to say? What will CJ think?

  “Please. Get me out of here.”

  The ground falls away as he whisks me across the lot to where his driver waits with the door open. “Hotel.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Quinn. There’s water or something stronger if she needs, in the bar.” Then the driver raises the privacy window and we’re alone.

  Sitting there in the dark behind the tinted windows I feel safe for the first time since landing in Iowa. Slowly my breathing turns to normal and the awful memories fade to the background.

  I don’t know what to say. Why couldn’t I stand up to my father and shout at him and tell him what a pervert he is. Perfectly normal? To touch a little girl for years? Fuck that and fuck him.

  “Tell me. What’s up with you and your dad?” CJ’s oblivious to the storm going on in my head.

  I shrug and try to act cool. “I don’t get along with him, that’s all.”

  “Why?” He clamps his hands around mine to stop me from wringing.

  “It’s personal.” I shift away on the seat. I just can’t tell him, can I?

  “Did he hit you?” His voice grows tense and I swallow hard.

  Something inside me is bubbling, trying to break free and I can’t stop it. “Worse.”

  “How worse?”

  I whisper, as if saying the words too loud might send me into the past. “He touched me inappropriately… for years.”

  I wait for the disgust in his face and when it comes, I look down. Why the hell did I open my big fat mouth?

  “How old were you?” His body stiffens and his breathing grows uneven but as long as I’ve gone this far I might as well keep going.

  “The first time, I was maybe ten, maybe younger. I’m not really sure.”

  He curses. “Why the hell didn’t you tell someone?”

  He’s angry. Well I’m angry, too. Haven’t I asked myself that time and time again?

  I try to explain as best I can. “I was on my own. My mother wouldn’t admit to it even though she walked in on it more than once. Understand?”

  “No.”

  There’s more but I don’t say it aloud. Growing up, my family was more like a cult. I learned at an early age that love would be withheld for the slightest infraction of the rules and one of the rules was that family privacy was sacred above all else.

  Tears drip down my face which I angrily wipe away. “What are you going to tell the press?”

  “Fuck the press, Mel. Tell me, have you ever gotten any help for this?” He still sounds annoyed, and I get it. This is a lot more than he bargained for.

  My laugh sounds weak, even to me. “I don’t need my head examined, he does. Listen, if you want to call this off, we can.” I can’t even look into CJ’s face I’m so damn sad.

  “I don’t want to call this off. I want to kill someone.”

  “I really am sorry, CJ. I tried. I really did.” Could this day get any worse?

  “Ah, shit. Mel. I’m not mad at you. I want to fucking murder your father.”

  “You believe me?” My eyes bravely rise up to meet his and my stupid heart almost stops because he’s crying.

  Then his forehead meets mine. “Why the hell would you lie? About something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t. I just… dammit. I never thought… ” My throat constricts and tears roll down my cheeks, but I’m not crying for me. I’m crying for the little kid that somehow managed to endure the unspeakable and break free.

  The limo stops at a light and I’m struck at how ordinary everything is outside the window. I told someone about the abuse and time didn’t stand still. Nothing has changed. No one died. I’m still me. A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders and this tightness around my heart loosens.

  CJ watches my face intently. “Why do you bother to stay in touch with him? For Christ sake, you danced with him.”

  In the afternoon sun, kids ride their bikes in the park as parents look on. My first two-wheeler had three speeds, was green, and way too big for me. My dad said I would grow into it.

  How can I describe what it’s like? “If you ignore what happened behind closed doors, he was a good dad. He was kind, went to all my back-to-school nights and science fairs. He bought me my first car, sent me to college…”

  “That doesn’t make up for what he did to you.” His mouth is still grim when we pull up to the back door of a strange hotel.

  “Imagine you loved strawberry pie as a kid, and your mom would bring a piece into your bedroom just for you, every night.”

  He looks at me, and grunts. “Okay.”

  “That pie feels so good goin’ down. It doesn’t hurt. It feels great. Best damn pie in the whole world.”

  I don’t think he gets where I’m coming from but I keep trying.

  “Then, when your Dad walks in the room, you Mom hides the pie. She doesn’t say anything, but you’re not stupid. For some reason, your Dad isn’t supposed to know about the pie. You like pie, don’t want it to stop, so you don’t say anything. And, coming from a big family, it’s the only time your Mom pays you any mind. You feel really special.”

  CJ watches me intently, and nods.

  “One day, you’re in school, you hear some stuff and it dawns on you that your Mom should not be feeding you pie at night in your bedroom, when she tucks you in.”

  “Shit. I don’t want to hear this.” He closes his eyes, brows creased and I grab his hands in mine until he opens them again.

  “But you need to, if you really want to understand what my life is like.”

  A squeeze indicates he’s with me. “Okay, keep going.”

  “So, one day you tell your Dad that Mom is feedin
g you pie at night. He freaks and tells you it can’t be. Mom would never feed you pie at night. You must be mistaken and refuses to talk to you about it. Now you’re on your own. If your own Dad doesn’t believe you about the pie, who will? So instead, from that point on, you try to convince your Mom, no pie at night. Sometimes she listens, sometimes she doesn’t but always there’s a kind of manipulation. That if you don’t eat pie, you will no longer be special or be loved.”

  “Wait here.” He jumps out of the limo, speaks to the front desk, and then comes right back. “We need to change hotels, and then come up with a new plan.”

  Chapter 14

  My phone is buzzing nonstop in my back pocket so I turn it off. I need a moment to think. My brain’s about to explode from her confession. Didn’t I know she didn’t get along with her family? I figured maybe her dad had spanked her as a kid or maybe he was a bit over-protective as a teen, the normal shit.

  Incest. Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?

  I grab a couple beers and sit down next to this amazing woman. A part of me wants to believe she’s lying, that the man I shook hands with couldn’t possibly have touched her as a little girl. How the hell is she so normal?

  By the way she clenches her glass, the tears, and the silence, I know she’s told the truth. It takes all my self-control not to go back to that party and pound that bastard into the dirt. What kind of father messes with his own daughter?

  I swallow hard, open another beer, then dump it down the sink, opting for clear thinking, instead.

  She hasn’t said anything since we got back to the room. She just stares at the bubbles in her drink, swirling them around and around, eyes overflowing.

  I should say something but I’m not that guy. I’m also pretty certain she should speak to a shrink but who knows? That might not be right either. I finally decide on damage control with Jaz. Not because it’s the most important thing but because I can’t think of anything else better to do.

  His voice is up an octave, making his gay persuasion more pronounced. “Speak to me. What the hell just happened? Where did you go?”

  I glance over at her sad face and my chest tightens into a fucking knot. Just when did she become my whole world?