CHAPTER 29 Ainsley Bradley
Babe
“Hey! I wasn’t expecting such a quick turnaround, but I’m not complaining,” I answer when I see Dex calling. I just got Jack out of the bathtub, and he’s currently bouncing in his play bouncer while he listens to the sounds of “Baby Shark.”
“My brother Ford just called. He said Coach Murph was in a bad accident last night and might not make it.”
“Oh, God, Dex. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know who Coach Murph is, but I don’t choose this moment to say that. He tells me anyway.
“I can’t think of another coach who made a bigger impact on my life. He started my junior year of high school and was only there for seven years, but I was starting to get into some hard shit my junior year, and he quite literally saved my life.”
“How?” I ask as I make Jack’s bedtime bottle.
“I was at a party where other kids were shooting up heroin. I had a needle in my hand and was ready to shoot it when he walked through the doors, took the needle out of my hand, asked me what the fuck I was doing, and took me back to his place. It turned out the heroin was laced with something, and another kid died that night.” His voice is quiet and broken as he talks. “It could have been me.”
I’m frankly shocked that he was into that sort of thing when he was younger, but the truth is that we all make mistakes. He was lucky he had someone in his life to stop him.
“But it wasn’t, Dex. You were always meant to be here.” I glance over at his son, and that’s all the proof I need.
“I just…I don’t know what to do.” He’s clearly conflicted.
“What can you do, babe?” I ask.
He’s quiet, and I think it’s because he’s contemplating my question. Instead, he says, “Babe?”
My cheeks burn. “It slipped out. Let’s move past it.”
“What if I liked it?” His voice turns a little warmer, and in truth, the fact that he called me to talk to me about this makes me feel like I’m in an important position here.
“Then I’ll do it again. Now answer the question.”
He gets serious again. “I don’t have any idea.”
“What would he want you to do?” I ask.
“His catchphrase was always show up or make excuses. I think he’d want me to continue showing up at camp.”
“I’m sure he would,” I say. If he’s half the coach Dex claims he is, he’d always put his athletes and their success first. “But it wouldn’t hurt to make some kind of show of support for him or his family.”
“Like what?” he asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. Off the top of my head, you could call his family—his parents or his wife.
His kids if he has any. You could make a monetary contribution to his care.
You could do something as simple as send a card letting the family know you care about him and your thoughts are with them during this difficult time. ”
“Where do I even get a card?” he asks. “Or their address?”
“Dex. Show up or make excuses.”
He’s silent on the other end, and for a moment I worry I overstepped with those words. But then he shocks me by saying, “You’re right. Can you help me?”
“Absolutely.”
He fills me in on what he needs, and it feels good to help him out.
The next day, I mail a card to the family with Dex’s information on it.
A week later, he gets the call he was dreading. And once again, I’m the first person he calls after he finds out what happened from Ford.
“Coach Murph passed away,” he says, and his voice is quiet. So quiet that I can’t even tell if he’s been crying, but a soft sniffle gives him away.
“I’m so, so sorry, Dex. What can I do?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
“Do you know any of the arrangements yet? I can book you a flight to the funeral. Jack and I can meet you there if you want us—”
“I’m at camp for four more days,” he says, interrupting me with a pointed tone. “I can’t just leave.”
“Surely if you told your coach why—”
He interrupts me again. “I can’t.”
I want to ask him if that’s showing up or an excuse, but I also want to be sensitive to what he’s dealing with. I don’t throw those words at him. Maybe the way he sees it, he’s showing up for his teammates.
But I also know he’ll regret it if he doesn’t pay his final respects. I know from personal experience.
“Can I tell you a story?” I ask carefully.
He grunts some reply, so I dive right in.
“I didn’t go to my grandmother’s funeral.
She was my dad’s mom, and we only saw her a few times a year, but we had a special bond.
My parents needed someone to watch my younger siblings, and rather than pay a babysitter, they asked me to do it.
I was thirteen and felt like I didn’t have much choice.
Because I helped them out, I missed saying goodbye.
It’s a moment I’ll never get back, Dex. I could talk to her up in heaven, sure, but it’s not the same as those final respects.
It’s not the same as being with the other people who loved her so much and sharing in both grief and memories. ”
He sighs. “You’re telling me to step up and do the right thing without saying those words.”
“I’m telling you that you don’t want to live with regrets, Dex.”
“The funeral is Friday morning in Chicago.”
“I can get you there on the latest flight Thursday and an afternoon flight back to California on Friday,” I say.
He’s quiet a minute as he contemplates it, and then he says, “Meet me there. With Jack.”
“Of course,” I whisper, and tears fill my eyes that he’d want me there for it.
“I’ll see if we can stay the night at Madden’s place. He plays for San Diego now, but he kept his place in the city,” he says. “He won’t have a crib or anything, though.”
“We’ll make it work,” I say. I can pack a travel bassinet and everything we need.
Truth be told, I’ve never traveled with a baby before.
“His birth certificate is in the safe in my office. The key is in the middle desk drawer,” he says, and it feels heavy that he’s trusting me with this sort of thing.
“I promise I’ll take care of everything,” I say.
“Thanks, Birdie,” he says quietly, and his little use of his special nickname for me gives me butterflies.
“Of course.” We end the call, and I set to work.