Chapter 30
Baylor
Bent over with one hand on my knee, I gasp for air, gripping the chain-link fence to hold myself up with the other. “Funny, kid.”
Dribbling the ball around me in circles doesn’t help, but it does make me feel old as fuck.
I’m only aging from here and barely surviving now.
What am I going to be like when I finally have kids of my own?
I pull myself upright, still trying to catch my breath, when I eye Beckett, ready to impart some wisdom and buy myself some recovery time.
“This is the court your dad and I used to play on every Thursday after work. We’d join a pickup game. ”
“Do you still play?” Wonder if it was the sweating buckets looking like I’m ready to pass out or me losing the ability to breathe in that gave it away.
Yesterday, we were all over the city visiting his old school, meeting up with his friends, and spoiling him by taking him shopping at FAO Schwartz. His parents are going to kill me if this basketball game doesn’t do the job first .
Riffling through my memories, I can’t remember the last time I came out here. “Not much anymore except when we play basketball out at the ranch.” I know I must have had more energy, though. This kid refuels with food and is ready to go again when I need time to digest like an old man.
“We play, too. He likes free throws.”
I hold my hands out for him to pass to me. When I catch the ball, I ask, “What do you like?”
“Slam-dunking.”
Damn. Unexpected . “You can slam-dunk?” I dribble the ball in place.
“With help from Dad.”
I tuck the ball under my arm and wipe the sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt. “You’re going to be slam-dunking on your own one day.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” I toss him the ball again and watch as he runs across the half-court to shoot. He scores, making me feel like a proud papa. What impresses me most though is his ability to transition from the city to the country and back again for this short visit with such ease. Kids are so adaptable.
His journey has been the opposite of mine. I went from the country to the city. Could I settle back into a slower way of life as easily? I’m starting to believe I can.
I join him for some more hoops, and he wears me out again. Unlike how exhausting my job is, this is only physical. Like Beck, I’m energized by all the possibilities ahead.
Paul hands me the delivery as soon as he opens the door for us. “This just came an hour ago. ”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I open it as soon as we get into the apartment. I could have this in life on the daily. Is that what the choice is? New York or the love of my life? There’s no decision to be made. I made it when I said I do. Seeing the photo only affirms what I already knew.
“Why are you and Aunt Lauralee dressed like you’re married?”
Shit. What do I say? I shift my body to block little eyes, tucking the photo under the package, then look behind to find Beckett standing there. “We were pretending.” Fuck me, the lies never end.
“Looks real.”
Like the adult I am, I go for the distraction tactic. “What do you want for dinner?”
He stares at me like he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said about the photo, then says, “Lasagna.”
“A man after my own heart. I’ll order in.”
I take my first bite of breakfast on the plane while making my move on a travel-size game of checkers on the center table between Beckett and me. I already set him up to win, and he takes the bait, making a move to claim one of my checker pieces.
He says, “I’ve been thinking about the photo.”
I choke down the food I had in my mouth, coughing to clear my throat.
After a big gulp of water, I look at him with a face of indifference despite a nine-year-old making me panic inside.
I thought he was going to brag about taking my piece.
Guess I wasn’t as smooth as I thought the other day, though.
Man, kids are perceptive. Moving the eggs around with the tines of my fork, I ask, “What have you been thinking about it? ”
“I think you love her.” Boom! He just lays it out like it is.
I both respect and fear this kid. He’s going to be top-notch at anything he chooses to do with his life.
I stare at him, unsure what to say to that.
He says, “I saw my dad go through the same thing with Christine. He changed. I saw it before he did.”
“How did he change?” Am I really asking this kid for life advice to see if it pertains to me? Why yes. Yes, I am.
He shrugs. “My mom says I get all wound up when I have too much sugar. You’re different than that. I don’t know the word. Christine loves the evenings on the front porch. She says it’s peaceful. That’s the only way I know how to describe it. Peaceful.”
He sees right through me. It makes me wonder if everyone back home will and if our marriage is a secret I can keep much longer. “Is the photo real, Uncle Baylor?”
It’s not even eight in the morning, too early to have such a deep conversation about my life. But since we’re here, I ask, “Can you keep a secret?”