Chapter 13
I climb up the bleachers to talk to my mom, going up to her now empty section. She seems so alone there, her pom-poms deflated, her mouth drawn down. She looks like she’s aged years in one week. I feel a twinge of guilt and hurry to her side.
I open my mouth to say, “I’m sorry.”
But she beats me to it.
I sit down in the stadium seat next to her, and she immediately turns to face me fully.
“I’m sorry, Annie.” Her voice is wobbly, her eyes glassy.
“I didn’t handle any of this right, and now you’re facing the consequences.
I—” she muffles a sob, pressing her hands to her eyes, “I saw those signs at the beginning of the game. Those green posters, and I thought about people saying those things to you, day after day, and I—”
“Mom,” I cut her off gently. “I stopped looking at those posters. I was looking at that instead.” I point down at Daniel, who’s pretending like he’s not watching us by checking his phone absently. When he catches us both looking, he waves, showing off his Larger Than Life t-shirt.
My mom sniffles and then squints. “Did he make that himself?”
“He had some help from his assistant Derek,” I explain wryly.
She smiles a little. “It’s wonderful, honey.
” There’s a lull where we’re both sitting there, not sure what to say.
It’s difficult to fight with your mother when you’ve hardly ever done it before.
Our usual tiffs revolve around vintage fashion finds, period-related hormones, or whoever ate the last of the Twizzlers.
I think about Daniel and his advice. She never meant to hurt me.
She never could have anticipated the mess this secret being unearthed would create.
She has just as much of a right to be angry with Jack as I do.
We should be on the same team; we always have been before.
“Mom,” I finally gather my courage, “why didn’t you tell me about Jack?
I don’t mean anything big, like making new custody arrangements or even giving me his phone number; I just mean, why didn’t you mention that he was a businessman?
The owner of a sports team I cherished? A billionaire?
A married man? Any details of his life. It might have prepared me for this nightmare. Even just a little.”
I keep my eyes on her, steady. It’s hard, watching her fidget and seeing the glitter tears track down her cheek from her red sparkly eyeliner.
For a moment, it doesn’t seem like she’ll answer.
But then, she meets my gaze. “I was terrified,” she says, and it falls like an anvil in between us.
“Terrified that if you knew anything about him, you’d want him in our lives.
That you’d want to meet him and understand him and that you’d…
” She swallows. “That you’d forgive him. ”
“Forgive him?” I parrot back, open-mouthed.
She laughs bitterly. “Because the truth is, Annie, that I’ve never forgiven the man.
He promised me every love in the world, every life and dream I wanted, he said we could have it all.
We seemed like the love stories you see in the movies.
Dramatic, maybe. Full of obstacles, definitely.
But I thought we were made for each other.
When he said he didn’t want to be with me, I was the one who shut him out.
I won’t say he was exactly excited to be in your life, but I was the one who told him no.
No money. No birthday cards. No contact.
” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.
There’s glitter everywhere. “He might have done the bare minimum if I’d let him. ”
It’s not the first time this week that my life feels upside down. Daniel was right. I feel like I’m seeing my mom for the first time. “You never said one bad thing about him.” I marvel at her. “You always said we didn’t need him. That we were perfect on our own.”
“We were,” she insists, smiling shyly at me.
“We are,” I correct her. I lean my head on her shoulder, a struggle with her 5’9” frame, but I make it work. I grab her hand and squeeze. “I don’t want Jack, Mom. I don’t need him. I have you and Jadea and my team.” I don’t include Daniel, but I know my mom is thinking it.
I pull back after a few heartbeats of closeness, of motherly comfort.
It’s my turn to be honest. “I don’t need Jack.
Or Trenton or a whole new family. But this is extremely complicated.
Jack seems like he wants to make amends, but I’ve yet to meet the man.
Trenton wants me to stay away, and I have no idea how Tiffany feels.
This story has hurt lots of people and disappointed even more.
” I try to hold her gaze. “I have the family I need. But I might have to see Jack one day. He’ll never be my dad.
But he might be something. I just don’t know. ”
It feels good to say it. I’m not lying when I say there is no dad-shaped hole in my life.
I don’t need Jack to come into my life and start coaching my little league team and ordering me to clean my room.
He missed that time in my life. But there is a small part of me that’s curious.
He did something terrible, manipulating the draft and the team, but why did he do it? Guilt? Misplaced devotion?
My mom’s expression clears. She nods resolutely. “I understand. You do what you have to do.”
I gnaw on my lower lip. “The league is still investigating, but Trenton told me that Jack is no longer involved in day-to-day operations. Do you think he did everything the source says he did? Insisted on my draft? Blackmailed journalists? Screamed at the board, so I got a starting position?” It sounds horrible, all laid out like that.
Her gaze goes unfocused, looking out at the stadium, which is currently being cleaned and deconstructed.
“I want to say that I know one way or the other. The man I loved did not seem demanding, high-handed, or manipulative. But that man was just an illusion, hiding the real him.” She purses her lips grimly. “I have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“Comforting,” I murmur, my gaze zig-zagging across the staff cleaning the floors and Daniel, who has finally dismissed his camera crew. It’s sweet he’s waiting for me when I know he has a plane to catch. He’s flying back to New York to tape his show.
“Annie.” My attention snaps back to Mom, who looks serious all of a sudden.
She hardly blinks, gripping my hands tightly.
“You and I, we’re the same, but different.
You’ve always been quieter and more independent, but we deal with our problems the same way.
” There’s a pause, and I know she’s making sure I’m listening.
She gives me a ghostly smile. “We don’t. ”
There’s a lump in my throat. “I’ll figure it out,” I promise. “I won’t just sit on the sidelines.”
She seems to believe me and changes the subject, her features relaxing now that we’re back to normal. “You played beautifully tonight, Annie. And I’m certainly not the only one who noticed.” Her eyes focus on Daniel, lingering down below.
“I wanted to tell you,” I reassure her, “because it’s not what it seems.” I quickly fill her in on the highlights of Jadea’s scheme. I don’t say much else about Daniel and our date, but something must bleed into my tone.
“He left you, honey. He left and didn’t say anything, even when you called and texted for weeks.” It’s a gentle reminder, a loving one.
I keep my eyes on Daniel. He’s taken a ball from one of the racks and goes to the free throw line. I remember the ways our bodies glanced off each other as I showed him how to shoot.
He swishes the first shot.
I look back at my mom, who’s been watching me curiously. “I know what he did. And he’s offered to talk about it.” I remember being in the parking garage and insisting we didn’t talk about the heavy stuff.
How do Largers deal with their problems?
We don’t.
“You didn’t let him?” she asks, brow furrowing in confusion. “He wanted to explain what happened?”
I sigh. “It’s all fake, I know, but it’s been so nice. If he tells me what really happened, it will pop our bubble of happiness. All those ugly, messy feelings will spill out.”
Mom stares at him, shooting aimlessly on the court. “I didn’t like what he did to you, Annie. It was horrible.” I think she’s going to leave it at that, and my chest aches. If my mom can’t see redemption for Daniel and me, maybe there is none.
When she continues, that ache turns to a fluttery hope. “But he had just gone through something equally horrible. You and I both know from this week that sometimes we don’t act like ourselves in the face of something terrifying.”
Daniel and I creep closer and closer to the precipice of this whole facade. Maybe Mom is right, and we should just leap together.
“Besides,” Mom’s voice has grown light, “I always liked Daniel.”
*
I’m exhausted when I get back to the apartment that night. A little shot of pleasure goes through me when I see the bouquet from Daniel still preening in its vase.
I shower and change into my softest pajamas. I even pull out my unicorn sleep mask, saved for those nights where I want to crawl under the covers and sleep forever. We have a light practice tomorrow and then another game on the road Tuesday. I need my beauty sleep.
I’m checking the alarms on my phone when I notice my Twitter is blowing up. There are mentions everywhere. I open the app and see a trending video of the game. It’s from after the game actually, a few moments post-buzzer beater.
I’m hugging my friends and grinning like a fool. It’s a good quality clip because it was taken from the ESPN2 broadcast. They zoom in on my freckles and flushed face and my long red braids in a disarray. I look disarmingly happy.
You can see me search the sideline for a moment after extracting myself from the excited huddle.
There’s a spark in my eyes, and then I’m running to get to Daniel.
ESPN managed to capture our long hug and the soft conversation that ensued.
The clip is barely 45 seconds long, but it makes an impact.
For those who don’t follow my Instagram or haven't been keeping up, now they’re in the know.
Jadea texts me: #Dannie?
And I check and see that it’s the ninth trending topic in my location for the evening.
A fan with the username @JJonesObsessed retweets the clip with the comment: @AnnieLarger @DanielChan what is happening here???
I should feel ashamed that my fake relationship with Daniel is fooling the world.
Instead, there’s a strange mix of pride and confusion.
It doesn’t really feel like a fake relationship.
He didn’t have to make that gesture. Jadea did not insist on it.
He ironed on those letters because he thought I needed it, because he cared about me.
And so, when I respond, I don’t hold back, but I don’t give any information either.
@AnnieLarger: Eat your heart out, St. Louis.