Ten
Alex
“DidI tell you that I’m helping out with the boys’ team?” my father asked.
I smiled. “Yeah. You did. Three times.”
“Oh,” he responded, though he didn’t look concerned that he’d repeated himself.
But in a blink, our conversation ground to a halt, and the banter of earlier was replaced with sudden silence.
My fist clenched, and I was glad my hand was under the table.
I should have just let him tell me about the boys again. He wasn’t often this excited when we talked, and I worried he’d pull back now. I didn’t want that, so I gave him a big smile and said, “Sounds like you’re excited about it!”
He nodded. “Yeah. I never got the chance to coach one of my kids’ teams,” he said.
Trying to ignore the little twist in my gut, I looked at the restaurant door, noticing the couple that had come in, halfway regretting that I had turned down Noah’s lunch invitation to accept this one.
I also didn’t point out that I had played volleyball from sixth grade through my freshman year of college, and he had never gone to one of my games, let alone coached one of my teams.
But even though bile burned in my throat, I said nothing.
After a moment, I focused on my father, putting the smile back on my face.
“I’m sure they’re excited about it,” I said.
“Yeah. They have a really hard time getting volunteer coaches on the team, so I’m glad to help,” he said.
I managed not to choke on the sip of soda I’d just taken, and my father asked, “You sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“No. I’m fine,” I responded.
He took a bite of his pastrami, and I looked away.
I had lunch at the office, and besides, I wouldn’t eat in front of him today even if I didn’t.
I wasn’t in the mood to hear his opinions about what I might choose to consume.
And even more than that, I wanted to save the money.
Thinking about that, I decided to redirect the conversation and share my great news.
“Did I tell you that I’m going to buy the building?” I asked, my smile brighter.
“What building?” he said around a bite of the sandwich.
I kept my smile plastered on my face, as I said, “You remember? That one we met at a few weeks ago. The landlord agreed to terms. So, all I have to do is get the earnest money. Then it will be mine,” I said.
“No mortgage?” he asked as he sprinkled some black pepper on his sandwich, then took another bite of his meal.
“Yes, there will be a mortgage, but the business is going to be successful. I just know it,” I said.
“Yeah, you can make it happen,” he said.
He took another bite of sandwich, and I tried to ignore that feeling that crept over me, like I was a puppy being dismissed.
It wasn’t lost on me that my father didn’t seem nearly as excited about my building as he had seemed about the boys’ team, but it was okay. They were kids, and even though he and their mother had only been dating a little less than a year, I was happy to see him involved.
It seemed to make him happy too.
Happier than anything I had done.
I shut that train of thought down, though I again had that regret.
Especially when I saw the couple I had seen a moment ago sit down and smile at each other.
I looked away from them and back at my father, reminding myself that wouldn’t ever be Noah and me.
Sure, I had seen a lot of Noah over the last couple of weeks and had plans to see him tomorrow. Even despite that, Noah and I didn’t have the kind of relationship—ugh, I hated that word—that involved lunch dates, though Noah had offered more than once.
“I think I’m going to take a day off for my birthday,” I said to my dad.
“What, the day after tomorrow?” he asked.
I tried to be happy that he got the day right and ignore the fact that it had been a question at all.
“Yeah. I like to do that. It’s a tradition to take a day off work for my birthday. Mama always said it was a day worth celebrating,” I said.
He didn’t acknowledge my reference to my mother, but he just nodded.
“You enjoy it. I would say we should get together, but you know, I’ll have a thing with the boys,” he said.
I nodded quickly, so quickly that I could feel my hair bobbing.
“Yeah. Some other time,” I said, telling myself the tremble in my stomach was just hunger.
I knew what Aunt Clem, and Birdie for that matter, would say.
In fact, Birdie was taking a trip so Aunt Clem had tried to convince me to get together with her for my birthday, but I told her no, deciding to keep the day open just in case my dad wanted to see me.
My reasoning had seemed logical. It had been years since my father had been in town on my birthday, and that merited special acknowledgement.
So I told myself I wasn’t disappointed that we wouldn’t see each other.
I could use a day to relax and restore anyway.
I’d been working hard to earn that earnest money, picking up contract jobs, doing wills, whatever I could to earn the extra money to save.
Perhaps a light ethical violation, but in a few weeks when I signed that contract, it wouldn’t matter.
“I’m glad I named you Alex,” my father said out of the blue.
I looked at him, noting how handsome he still was, though the low fade that he had favored when I was a kid had given way to a clean shave. Despite that minor change, his medium brown skin was unwrinkled, and he more or less looked the way he always had.
“I’ll bet you do,” I said, smiling. “It is your name after all.”
“Yeah. And when your mother told me you were coming, I insisted. There was a chance I’d make a boy one day, but there was no reason to risk it,” he said.
“Yeah, well I’m glad you got your namesake,” I said.
“Me too,” he responded.
“You sure you don’t want half of this?” he said, looking at the untouched half of his pastrami sandwich.
“No, I’m good,” I said.
“Then I’ll pack this up,” he said.
We were eating at a sandwich shop, so he walked up to the counter to get a takeout box. When he came back, he packed the rest of the sandwich. Then, he looked at his watch.
“The boys get out of school in half an hour. I think I’ll go pick them up and let them try this. I’m pretty sure they’ve never had pastrami before,” he said.
“That’s nice. It’s awesome that you’re showing them new things,” I said, my voice bright.
He was scrolling through his phone as he mumbled, “Yeah. I’ll catch up with you. Happy early birthday.”
He stood, and we met eye to eye, both of us six feet tall, though my father was slimmer than I would ever be.
I reached out to hug him but stilled when he lifted his hand and gave me a halfhearted wave.
“Enjoy your birthday, baby,” he said.
“Thanks,” I whispered as he walked away.
I wasn’t even sure he had heard me because he didn’t stop to say you’re welcome.
With a deep sigh, I cleaned off the table, then nodded at the cashier as I hurried out of the restaurant.
There were reasons to rush.
After all, I had two wills to finish, a real estate closing, plus all of my other work to get done before I spent my birthday alone.