by Xavier Neal
“Just tired,” I lie.
“London keepin’ you up late again?” Brando winks.
Fuck, I wish. I wish I was tired from overhearing her talking to one of their athletes in Tokyo in the middle of the night or her crawling on top of me afterward to “apologize” for waking me up. I wish I was exhausted from her having her soccer or ice skating dreams, both of which end up with her kicking me repeatedly throughout the night. I’d give anything to have her back in our bed.
His name is called from somewhere out in the hall and he offers, “You want us to bring you something back?”
“No, but thank you.”
Brando shrugs, smiles, and shuts the door with him on the other side.
My eyes drop back to my desk where I’ve got several employees performance evaluations to review, however rather than focus on the open file, I stare at the sunstone bracelet taunting me on the other side of the desk. The little piece of London I take with me everywhere. At first it was just when I missed her, but at some point it was second nature to tuck the damn thing into my pocket regardless if I intended to wear it or not. I never believed a random rock could bring you serenity…then again I never believed a lot of things before London burst into my life. Like that I was good enough just the way I am. Like my family does want me even if I had a hard time seeing it.
The knot in my body expands to the point I feel a wave of nausea roll over me. I abandon the idea of staying locked in my office. I gather the files, stuff them in my bag along with my work laptop, and leave for the day.
Needing the type of advice only my parents can provide, I head out to their property knowing if anyone can help me fix this with London it’s them.
When I stroll into the dining room I’m startled by the vision I interrupt. “Pop! Where the hell are your pants?!”
My father grumbles and quickly reaches for the newspaper on the kitchen table. “What the hell are you doin’ here in the middle of a Monday afternoon?!”
“Will, do you wanna try chocolate or straw-” Mama’s words vanish into thin air. She quickly closes her robe and repeats her husband’s fussing, “What the hell are you doin’ here?”
I cover my face. “Why are you both naked?”
“What do most people do when they’re naked?” Pop taunts. “We had that talk, Oliver.”
They share a laugh, and I groan my discomfort about the situation. “Could you two….please put on… clothes ?”
“My robe is as good as it gets,” Mama informs, the sound of the dining room chair moving shortly after.
Pop grouses, “Damn it. Let me find my underwear.”
“They’re by the back door.”
“Oh yeah….That’s where all this started….” Pop hums as if pleased with himself.
“Don’t have normal parents, why the hell did I think I would have a normal relationship?” I grumble to myself.
“Excuse me?” Mama snaps.
Dropping my hands and then myself into the chair at the opposite end of the table, I try to apologize, “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean-”
“You did,” she interrupts with irritation in her voice. “Now before I ask you why you’re at my kitchen table in the middle of a Monday, unannounced , making snide remarks, like you need a good pop with Granny’s wooden spoon, let me jus’ say this. There is no such thing as normal , Oliver. Everyone has their own brand of crazy. Jus’ ‘cause Pop and I don’t mind lettin’ it shine, doesn’t mean it’s any worse than anyone else’s.”
Pop reappears with a shit eating grin on his face.
No. Don’t wanna know what he’s remembering.
“What’s goin’ on?” He asks, settling beside his wife. “And for interruptin’ my post nap snack it better be important.”
“Somethin’ tells me it has to do with London,” Mama sells me out. “What’d you say to her?”
“Why is it I had to be the one to say something wrong? Why do I have to be wrong ?”
“Because you’re the one sittin’ at this table for advice,” Pop answers matter of factly.
“There are only two reasons you boys sit at this table. You either want food or need advice.” My mother’s words encourage a smirk. “And I ain’t cookin’ today. Pop is takin’ me to Pete’s later for a beer and a burger.”
Is it normal for my parents still date? To still be frequently having sex like newlyweds? Shouldn’t they be too exhausted or sick of each other after all these years? Shouldn’t they be focused on personal hobbies or sewing or television shows that remind them of their younger years? Shouldn’t they be…I don’t know…shopping for clothes for their grandchildren? Isn’t that what most couples are like at their age?
“What’d you say?” Pop’s question shifts me uncomfortably.
“What makes you think-”
“’Cause that’s what you boys do,” he insists. “You get all worked up, say some shit you had no business sayin’, and then get yourselves placed on our door step.”
It eases a bit of anxiety to know I’m just like the rest of my brothers.
“Now if we could move this along a little faster, I’d appreciate it. There’s a banana split with your Mama’s name on it….”
I gag and groan, “Come on, Pop! Can’t you not say that shit?”
“Why?” He chuckles. “We’re all adults here.”
“ Normal parents don’t say that sort of thing in front of their son.”
“What the fuck is normal?” Pop grunts. “And what the hell are you doin’ comparin’ us to anybody? We didn’t raise you that way. We didn’t treat or compare any of you boys to one another. We gave you what the hell was best for you .”
“Eddie needed more independence than the rest of you. Runt a little more praise because of his size. Blake needed room to make mistakes ‘cause his head was so damn hard. Big Foot needed to just let nature guide rather than nurture. And you…you always needed to feel like you were contributin’ to this family. Like you were afraid if you weren’t, we wouldn’t count you,” Mama explains. “It didn’t matter you boys shared clothes, ate the same meals, and occasionally slept with the same girls. We treated each of our relationships with you differently . That’s how relationships work, Oliver. There’s no one golden rule or handbook. Different people want and need different things.”
“‘Normal’ is nothin’ more than a collected average of bullshit. Why would you want that?” Pop questions. “Normal would’ve been me givin’ up my company when things hit a rough patch. ‘Normal’ would’ve been forcin’ you boys to work to the bone and makin’ you love the country life when it was clear you didn’t. We raised you boys to be open minded. You’re the only one who’s ever been wary about stayin’ that way.”
The lecture has me sulking further into the wooden chair. “You’re sayin’ it’s wrong to want London to…do things typical girlfriends do? Like invite me to her work events or remember our plans for the holidays?”
“That girl can barely remember what time of the day it is let alone the time of the year,” Mama brushes off with a snicker. “London lives a lot more freely than you do.”
“It’s why it all works,” Pop informs. “You remember to occasionally pull her ass back to the ground, and she occasionally convinces you to let go of the rope and fly a little higher.”
I smile at the comparison. We really have a ying yang situation, which I never thought could truly work, but it does. Or at least it did until we lost our tempers a couple nights ago.
“Stop tryin’ to put that woman in boxes, Oliver. She’s never gonna fit. And if you’re completely honest with yourself you’ll realize you don’t really want her too.”
Quietly, I agree, “I love her just the way she is.”
Mama smiles sweetly. “And she loves you just the way you are.”
“Yeah, pushy, punctual, and paranoid,” Pop pokes.
“I am not-”
“All of those things,” Mama cuts me off. “Since the day you were born.”
; “Learn to relax a little,” Pop encourages. “Been tellin’ you this since you were knee high to a grasshopper, son. Everything in life happens exactly when it’s supposed to. Can’t rush the good and you shouldn’t want to anyway. Life is about enjoyin ’ not finishin’ .”
Their words waste no time settling deep in my chest.
They’re right. Everything between London and I happened when it was good for us. Or as she would say when the universe deemed our energy levels ready. Had we rushed to completely move in together, we could’ve regretted it. If we wouldn’t have had the distance to really get to know one another in the beginning, our relationship could’ve actually ended up being her greatest fear of a one nightstand that lasted too long. I don’t think any other woman could’ve helped me grow into my skin as well as I finally feel like I’ve also grown into my own kin.
“Now if you don’t mind your Mama and I would like to return to enjoyin’ life.”
“ And finishin’ .” She salaciously snickers.
Another grimace of disgust lingers on my expression.
Right as I prepare to stand, she squeaks, “Oh! Before you go, could you see what’s wrong with Pop’s computer? I think it has a germ.”
“Worm,” I correct. “Which it shouldn’t. I installed software to prevent that from happening.”
The two of them less than innocently look away.
“You two turned it off, didn’t you?”
Pop gives me a short shrug of admission.
“Why?”
“We wanted to look at-”
“Nope.” My hands shoot up to hush them. “I’ll take a quick look at it and get it fixed. No need to explain. Is it in the office?”
“Bedroom,” Mama answers.
An uncomfortable thought hits me and I ask, “Would one of you please go get it? I don’t think I can handle any more trauma for the day.”
Pop wiggles his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word as he walks away to grab it.
Screw trying to have a relationship like everyone else around me. I want the crazy, mixed up chaotic, creation. I want to hear about how the moon cycles will help me sleep and the aligned stars are predicting a good day. I want my beautiful, ball of Sunshine back in my world where she belongs.
The classic line from the television causes me to giggle against the couch cushion my face is smashed on.
Oliver loves this show. It’s the one he always has playing in the background when I’m not insisting on watching ESPN. His friends also love it and while it took me a bit to get into the awkward humor I’m glad I did. It helps make late nights in my hotel room feel less lonely when it’s too late to call. It manages to help me feel like he’s close by when he’s not. Except now. Now, it reminds me he’ll never be close by again and that all good things usually come to an end.
“You’re actually watching this show with her?” My father asks my mother who is curled up in the recliner. “You think it’s funny?”
She gives him a sweet smile. “It really is!”
“Mom just likes their accents. You know she’s a sucker for a Brit.”
The grumble out of my father results in me and my mom laughing.
He moves around to be in my line of vision. “What do you say we go grab a quick dinner and watch the Hellcats’ game? Cliffsworth. Highland is playing in Miami.”
Oh God…. My spirit is truly broken. I would rather watch more of The IT Crowd than anything sports related. God what’s next? Abandoning my candles?
“Go on,” Mom sweetly spurs. “It’ll do you some good to get out of the house, London. You’ve been on that couch for almost two days.”
“So that’s what smells,” Dad teases. “I thought you were burning those awful Star Sensation incense again. They smell like burnt asphalt and athlete’s foot.”
When I don’t jump at the chance to tease back or at very least counter with something his shoulders plummet.
“We can go to Polly Olly’s for dinner….”
The temptation to bury my sorrows in a mountain of potatoes pulls me off the furniture. Not sure if potatoes can heal a broken heart, but they’ll damn sure numb it.
After a quick shower and change into an oversized Hellcats jersey, with knee high forest green boots and a matching cardigan, Dad drives us to the next big city over in his Mercedes SUV.
At the casual dining restaurant, the waitress sits us outside and at a table less likely to draw attention.
Once we order our usual, he asks, “Wanna talk about it?”
I flick my oversized white sunglasses down over my eyes. “No.”
He nods, but doesn’t push. “Did you finish reading the script?”
Disappointment in myself comes barreling towards me. “Shit. Sorry, Dad. I just-” I shake my head still not ready to admit everything between me and Oliver is over. “Time got away from me.”
“Usually does.” His smile graces itself at the table. “It’s one reason I like you having Oliver around. You’re usually a bit more on time.”
My emotions force my mouth to run away before my brain can stop it. “Yeah, well you can just get used to me being late again.”
His eyes widen. “Things are over?”
I swallow the sorrow. “You could say that.”
Or assume that since I stormed out and he didn’t bother coming after me. Or calling me. Or texting me.
Another wave of sadness rolls through me and I bite, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay,” Dad backs away from the subject quickly. “Have you read any of the script?”
“Some.”
“And what do you think so far?”
I shrug. “It honestly didn’t move me or fill me with that spark , but I could be wrong. That could just be me .”
He shakes his head. “We won’t do it then.”
“Dad-”
“I trust you Little L. Not just because you’re my daughter, but because you know passion when you feel it. You always have. You act on instinct and it’s one reason you’re so damn good at what you do.”
“Then why can’t I be a better ‘girlfriend’?!”
The curveball shoots his eyebrows to the top of his bald head. “What?”
I give my hair a relaxing ruffle.
When I don’t answer, my father waves a hand at me, commanding an explanation.
“If love were a sport, I’d be an epic failure.”
He gives me a sarcastic frown.
“It seems like I can never get anything right…I don’t call enough. I don’t attend enough ‘playdates’ with his family and friends. I don’t…lead him around my life like some sort of show pony. I hate trying to make him dinner. I am terrible with picking up the apartment and the absolute fucking worst at remembering we made plans.…” Guilt grabs me unexpectedly. “I deserved this. Being with Oliver was being with someone so far out of my league, I should be disqualified from ever dating again. I don’t know what the hell the cosmos were thinking, but I guess splitting the two of us apart Saturday was its way of correcting the problem.”
Our waitress places our meals down in front of us.
Before I have a chance to pick up one of my truffle tater tots, my father’s hand lands on top of mine. “I need you to listen and take what I’m about to say to heart, London. Do you understand?”
His tone is more somber than I can recall it ever being.
I instantly nod.
“Love isn’t a sport in which you win or lose. It is one that is all about how you play the game and who you play it with. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that the two of you love each other, but the truth is London, you have a habit of treating those in your life like tourist attractions. We have to beg you to pay attention to us, to come back to us, to spend time with us because your passion leads you all around the world.”
“You’re saying I’m too obsessed with my work?”
“No, I’m saying there is more to life than work. It’s alright to love what you do and let it be a part of
who you are, but it shouldn’t be the only thing you are. I made that mistake, London. It cost me time with your sisters. It cost me a healthier relationship with you. Hell, it almost cost me your mother. You have to learn to let what you love to do and who you love find harmony.”
My shoulders fall.
“I don’t think Oliver is out of your league any more than you are out of his. I think that maybe he just occasionally wants to be reminded you’re doing more than playing the same sport. That you’re on the same team . That you share some of the same goals….And maybe once in a while you remember to share the ball. You’ve always been a ball hog.”
