Chapter 17
BEHIND-THE-NET FEED: PASS FROM BEHIND THE NET INTO THE SLOT
The call connects on the third ring.
I know they’re going to worry because it’s not my normal night or time to check in.
I just need to talk to them. It’s been days since I was with Amy and I can’t hold the truth back any longer. In fact, the more I sit with it, the more muddled my thoughts get.
It was all a lie.
She proved it.
And I lost my right to know anything.
“Brennan?” my mother answers, already wary. Ever since my injury, her voice hesitates before she hears that I’m okay. I know that even across thousands of miles she’s running through a maternal checklist to make certain she doesn’t need to jump on a plane and cross the Atlantic.
“Hi, Mam. Is Da there too?”
There’s a beat. Then my father’s voice, steady and cautious. “It’s late there, a mhac.” His buddy. He’s always called me that.
I rub a hand over my heart. “I needed to call. I—” I exhale. “I found out I was wrong.”
“Wrong about what? Playing?” my father asks.
“No, Da. In fact, I wish I’d never played if I could have spared her this.”
“Who?”
“Amy.” Her name is weighted down by the truth I now have in my possession.
My mother inhales sharply. “Go on. Tell us, then.”
I do. I tell them everything that came out from Mark, and his confessions about Brielle. To how I moved to Willow Creek, seeing Amy, bringing her the truth, and how she stood for her own honor. I conclude morosely, “She stood there all those years ago and begged me to listen to her.”
My mother snaps, “Jesus, Brennan. Didn’t I tell you to be sure?”
“I know.” My voice is a mere echo of the misery that’s taken residence in my soul.
She shouts. “I asked you if you were sure. Asked if you actually looked into the evidence or if you were just listening to gossip from people who stood to lose nothing.”
“I know,” I repeat, because when my mother’s on a rant, there’s nothing else to say.
“But no. You said you had it handled. Said I was being sentimental because you told me you were in love with Amy. That I wanted to believe the best of her because she was kind and smart and I wanted to believe in love. Who was right and who was wrong, a vick?”
Her calling me her son in that tone causes my stomach to churn since I can’t refute a single thing she’s saying.
“I knew something was wrong.” Her voice breaks. “I knew it.”
“She did.”
“When we would talk with her, she’d have stars in her eyes.”
I remember the excited chatter between my mother and Amy when we’d be at my apartment on a video chat.
I close my eyes briefly. They open just in time for my mother to add to my shame.
“Then, I told you I ran into her on campus after…everything. She was moving boxes and had bruises under her eyes, Brennan. Didn’t acknowledge me, even though I called out her name. ”
It hurts knowing I didn’t just ruin my relationship with Amy, but the one my parents had with her as well. Despite the fact my father hasn’t said anything, waves of silent disappointment radiate through the line. I try to break in, “Mam—”
Her voice cracks fully then. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what happened to her? Wondering if she was okay?”
I press my fingers into my temples. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
She snaps. “Just because it wasn’t your objective, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” She goes quiet, and then I hear it—the soft, wrecked sound of her crying.
My chest caves in. I whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
My father clears his throat. “Mairead, love.”
“I’m fine,” she lies.
He takes over then, his voice calm but edged with disapproval. “You were wrong. You know that now.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I close my eyes. “And I own it.”
“That’s not enough,” he says plainly. “What are you going to do?”
The question lands heavy. “I’m not going to ask her for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it yet.”
“Good,” my mother mutters weakly.
“But I needed you to know the truth. To say it.”
Astutely, my father asks, “And what’s that?”
“I chose my career, my image, my comfort over the woman I loved.”
There’s a pause, then my father says carefully, “Yes. You did. Did you ever love her? Truly?”
“I’m not certain I ever stopped,” I admit baldly. I swallow before admitting, “When I was injured, hers was the face I saw before I blacked out. When I got the news I was never going to play again, all I could think about was how it would be different if she was still in my life.”
If it wasn’t for the shaky breath my mother lets out, I’d wonder if they’d hung up on me. The silence stretches out that long. Finally, my father asks, “So how do you plan to atone for what you’ve done? Because remorse without change is worthless.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “First, I need to know the woman she is today. She’s…not the same. She’s strong.”
Silence.
“I don’t mean she wasn’t back then,” I add quickly. “But she has the strength of her convictions shaping who she is. It’s made her powerful.”
“Good,” my mother says forcefully.
“I have to understand the woman she became after I failed her.”
“And you? What about you?” my father asks.
I swallow my pity down. “I’m going to work with someone to figure out why I did what I did.”
My mother sniffles. “That’s a start.”
“I need to know who I am. Why did I let ambition excuse what was happening to her?” Their silence propels me to go on. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t know if she should. But I won’t lie to myself anymore. I was wrong.”
My father exhales slowly. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said about it.”
“I’m done being that man—boy,” I correct myself. “Things got hard and I ran.”
My mother’s voice is softer now. She reminds me, “You can’t go back, Brennan. Not just because it’s too late, but because you’ve both changed too much to do anything but move forward.” She reminds me.
My voice cracks, “I just don’t know how to move forward.”
Another pause before my father finally says, “You’ve got two separate issues, Brennan. Making up for the past and setting yourself right. Take care with both.”
“I understand.” At least I think I do.
“Promise me, Brennan. You’ll accept whatever answer she gives you, even if it means walking away for her to lead her own life,” my mother adds fiercely.
I want to object. I want to vow I’ll win Amy back but I can’t force that. I have no right to her emotions. Not after the part I played in what she shared. “I will.”
She exhales. “Good.”
I hear my father shift. “Call us again soon,” he says. “And Brennan?”
“Yes, Da?”
“Be better than you were.”
I close my eyes. “I will.”
“Regardless of what happens, you know we love you,” My mother reassures me.
“I love you both. I just wish I liked myself a little more right now.”
The line goes quiet after that, but for the first time in a long time, the lack of noise doesn’t make me panic.
It feels like the beginning of change.