by Kate Stewart
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.
“Who are you?”
Clarissa follows his line of sight over to me, the smile disappearing from her face as the bag slips from her hands.
“MOM! You broke my sunny-sides!” Dante says in a huff, before bending over to gawk at the open carton of eggs.
“Dante,” she chokes out. “G-g-get in the house.”
She grips his shoulders in protective mode, eyes widening when I begin to cross the lawn. I need to play it cool, but years of pent-up longing pound against my chest as I make my way toward my son.
“Hey, little man. I’m your new neighbor,” I introduce myself as I slowly approach the house. Dante moves to greet me stopped short by the iron grip of his mother. “I said, get in the house now.”
“Mom, he’s not a bad guy. He doesn’t even have tattoos.”
“Now, Dante!”
“Fine.” He turns back to look at me with his hand on the doorknob. “What’s your name?”
Dad. Daddy? What would he call me if given a choice? I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, emotions are running rampant inside me. It’s all I can do to even my voice when I answer.
“Troy.”
“See ya, Troy.” I look after him as he shuts the
door, aching to bridge the distance and study him up close. A gnawing in my gut keeps me from taking a single step because I know I’ll be denied that privilege as I have been for the whole of his life.
When I’m sure he’s at a safe distance away from the door, I take the few steps up the porch toward Clarissa, who’s glaring at me with tears in her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
I hold my hands up with a, ‘please, just hear me out.’ I bend down and start gathering her scattered groceries. The acid in her voice above me is exactly what I expected.
“I told you never to come near us. I meant it. You know I meant it.”
I lift the tattered sack once I’ve gathered everything salvageable. “I just want him to know me. I just want to know him.”
She gapes at the box I left on the steps behind me at the neighboring house. “You moved in next door?”
“I just want to keep an eye on him. He’s my—”
“Don’t,” she hisses, “don’t you dare say it. You can’t just show up and claim parental rights.”
“That’s not the truth of it, though, is it? I know you’ve seen me. I’ve seen you see me. I’m done pretending, Clarissa. If you move again, I’ll follow. You move then, I’ll do the same. I’m not going anywhere. It’s time we met. Past time. And I have to know him,” I choke on my words because it’s hard enough looking at her knowing she hates me and my chances of making this work are slim to none, but I have to try. “For him, please,” I ask, looking up, my eyes pleading with hers.
She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “He’s missed nothing.”
“You don’t know that.”
She rips the bag from my grip. “No.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and toe a loose wood board on the porch. “I’ve been doing more than watching, and you know it. You won’t take my money, why?” I look up to see she’s still got tears in her eyes and hate the sight of it. It’s understandable she’s scared. At the moment, I feel every part the villain her stare accuses me of being.
“I don’t need your money.”
“You have needed it, plenty.”
“I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Troy. Dante doesn’t need an adolescent and conniving liar for a father.”
“I’m almost twenty-four, Clarissa. I’m not that kid anymore.”
Her eyes rake me up and down, and I can’t help my smirk when they pause at my crotch before lifting back to mine. She’s nowhere near as amused.
“Move out.”
“No.”
“You can’t just do this.”
“Then tell me how. Tell me how to get through to him. Because I want to be a part of his life. You can’t keep me from him forever.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“I have rights.”
Her face visibly pales. “You lost any rights you had when you lied and put both of us in jeopardy, and when I say us, I mean him and me, not you.”
“Legally, that’s not true. I have rights.”
Panic flits over her features before her back straightens. I’ve triggered mama bear, and all I can do is admire her for it. I shake my head. “Don’t even think it. I would never dream of pulling you into something messy like that. First of all, neither of us can afford it, and I don’t want to do that to you, but I need you to let this happen. I’m not making excuses for what I did. I just want to do right by him. I know where you stand and how you feel about me. I just want to know him. Please, just let me know him.”
Strangled by emotion, I think back to the night I spent listening outside her living room window when he had colic, and they both cried. Watching as she decorated a Christmas tree alone that she could barely afford. And the next morning when she celebrated alone, no family to ever come around, just a friend that pops up every so often who never fails to put smiles on both their faces. I caught Clarissa mid-breakdown once when I’d pulled up. She sat in her SUV and just cried because life had stressed her to that point, and all I could do was helplessly watch. I might not know the particular ins and outs of all that’s gone on, but just by observation alone, I know it hasn’t been easy and that she’s done it all on her own. That guilt I’ll never overcome.
“I’ve watched you struggle all this time just to be able to take care of him. I know what you’re going through.”
“You have no idea what it’s been like.”
“But I do. My mother’s name is Pamela.”
She draws her brows. “Okay, so?”
“My father’s name is also Pamela.”
Her tears fall, but she lifts her chin, her expression stern as she tries not to show the weakness, the vulnerability I’ve seen glimpses of over the years. Years she thinks I’ve spent carefree, but my frustration in the knowledge that my son exists without a father has far outweighed any adolescent highlights. Even when I’d selfishly tried to turn a blind eye, tried to move on, since the day she showed up to my school, I’ve never been free.
It’s been crazy just how much I’ve wanted to know him since the announcement of his arrival. While everyone in school was scrambling around for a way to pay for a limo at prom, I was trying to figure out a way to chip in with Mom to keep the lights on and stalk my son’s Easter egg hunt.
“I can’t change what I did, but maybe I can change your opinion of me in the responsible sense. Please. I am his father, and I can be a father to him. Please just let me try.”
She chews her full bottom lip as I patiently wait for her to mull it over. I don’t think this woman has an impulsive bone in her body. Matter of fact, the words “I never do this,” poured from her the night we hooked up. She sighs heavily as she scrutinizes me.
“There is no trying, Troy. If it doesn’t work out, you don’t get to go on your merry way. That’s not how this works.”
I nod. “I know. It…just, fuck,” I sigh, palming the back of my neck, “came out the wrong way.”
“Yeah, but you have a penchant for twisting words when it suits you, don’t you now, Mr. Jenner?”
“There’s no way to tell you how much I regret lying to you in that way.”
I can’t even bring myself to regret the rest of it. Often, I wonder if at times, she remembers just how fucking spectacular that night was. Instead, I’m browbeaten by just how much she wishes it had never happened. I want to regret it, but no real part of me ever has. Not even when I felt at my lowest.
“Why are you doing this? You have football and college. You’re telling me you can handle this now?”
“You been keeping tabs on me?” My playful grin is met by a scowl. I clear my throat. “Look, all those things considered, I’ve been in your parking lot every spare minute for almost six fucking years, Clarissa. I think I’ve proven he’s a priority without even having met him, despite the ways you’ve thrown my offerings away. You want more proof? I’m offering it, right here, right now. You make the rules, I’ll follow. I’m just asking for a chance.”
Studying me carefully, I see the war waging in her mind, in her clear-blue eyes. I can still remember the jolt I felt when I got my first glimpse of her up close. Fiery dark hair, bee-stung lips, and perfect features. At twenty-three, she was a stunner when we met. At twenty-nine, she’s a fucking knock out. She seems to read my mind and her eyes narrow. “Don’t ever let what you’re thinking past those lips.”
“You’re even more beautiful than you were the night I met you.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “If you’re that bad at following simple directions, how do I know this will work?”
“Sorry, couldn’t be helped. It’s just…good to see you from less than ten feet away.”
“You’re not helping your case at all.”
Sinking where I stand, the idea of being so close, coming this far just to get the door shut again is too much to handle. I reach in deep and speak straight from the heart.
“I can’t stop myself from being here anymore. This is tearing me apart and has been for years. I need to know him.
I have to know him. I can’t live with myself any longer, and I can’t live another minute without him knowing me. All I’m asking for is a chance to prove myself a worthy father. I’m not discrediting anything you’ve done. I just…” I close my eyes, willing myself to stay strong, my words coming out in a ragged plea. “Please, just give me a chance.” Opening my eyes, I take a step forward, my hands covering my chest, imploring her. “I’m not here to hurt you. And I would end myself before hurting him. Please.”
After the longest minute of my life, she sets the bag down on the porch and holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
Heart singing, I hand it over as she programs her number in and slaps it back in my hand. “You are the neighbor. You can start that way, and we’ll see how it goes from there. Don’t you dare come around unannounced. You have no say in his life until I decide otherwise. All decisions concerning him are up to me.”
“You’ve done an amazing job with him.”
“I had no choice.”
Anger flaring, I push that to the side and try to reason with her. “I’m telling you now that you do. I want this job more than I want to play pro ball. But I’ll respect your wishes. You call the shots, neighbor.”
“Neighbor first,” she props open the screen door with her hip, and I hold it for her while she palms the door handle. “Then we’ll see.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t want to give this to you, but you’ve given me no choice.”
“And you’ve done the same. Does I’m sorry matter?”
“No.”
I exhale a heavy breath. “Didn’t think so.”
The pulse point at her neck jumps as I crowd her a little at the door. “Eventually, maybe, we could be friends? It wouldn’t hurt to try.”
