Chapter 12-Ezra
It’s a family affair.
When my father had called earlier wanting to get together for dinner, he’d been surprised when I’d said I had plans with a lady. I can only imagine what he would’ve said if I told him he has a grandson.
He’d had his own surprise to share. Chase went back into the program last night. There”ve been several bumps in the road for my brother but we’ll see what happens.
“Bump, bump, thump goes the train,” Wyatt says from the backseat. “The BART goes under the water. Did you know that, Ezra? Did you? I did. I ride it every time we go to Grammy and Pop-Pop’s house.”
“Yeah, I did. The Bay Bridge is four times longer than the Golden Gate. Did you know that? I did.” I catch his bulging eyes in the rearview mirror and nearly lose it.
He quickly thinks up something else to share. “Grammy doesn’t like going in the tunnel but I’m not scared. Not scared of this big bridge, too.”
“No, you’re not scared, little man. I can tell.”
“Not little man. You call me Bump, okay?”
“Okay.”
Bump, bump, thump goes my heart.
“Are you sure I won’t be imposing?” I quietly ask Callie who’s balancing a Tupperware bowl in her lap.
“You wanted to see us. You can see us on these terms.”
Her terms. Her family. A cookout. I can deal with that flutter of panic building in my chest, right?
I just saw her yesterday during a meeting at Golden Gate but I wanted to see her again. And, again. Not to mention getting to see Wyatt, too.
Callie allowed the tour of the arena last week where Wyatt was adorably awed. He surprised me with his budding hockey trivia knowledge. This kid is so damn cute on top of being super smart like his mother.
“You didn’t think I was smart the first day we met,” she murmurs, smirking when I mention it.
“I was an idiot, okay?”
Christ, such an idiot.
The train between New York City and Princeton, New Jersey took longer than the one from San Francisco to Oakland does but it was convenient enough. Chase would come see me but all he wanted to do in the Big Apple was party while I’d drop in on my little brother frequently to catch his college games. And, keep an eye on him.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw Callie. Chase was running late heading to the rink and I was trying to hurry him up when there was a knock at the door. I’d answered, intent on running whoever it was off so my brother wouldn’t possibly get benched by a pissed off coach.
Big hazel eyes, soft peachy lips and a hopeful little smile that would melt a glacier had greeted me. She had a notebook crushed to her chest and her hair was twisted into a studious bun. She was beautiful, her rich brown skin looking smooth as silk under that dark orange hockey jersey she was wearing. She wasn’t just wearing orange either. She smelled like one, tart and sweet.
From the moment I’d set eyes on her, I’d wanted her.
But, of course, she was there for Chase. Girls were always loitering around, hoping to be his girl. I was used to that. It was the jealous twinge which was completely unexpected. I’d never envied anything my kid brother had. I was a grown man playing professional hockey. Finding a woman to share my bed was the simplest thing. Except those women only wanted me for my name, fame and money and I had started to realize I didn’t want them for anything beyond sex.
“My brother has a game tonight, darling. You’ll have to catch up with him later.” I’d started to close the door in her face, a total dick move on my part. It wasn’t the last one I’d make.
She’d caught the door, surprising me with her speed and strength for such a small package with those plump lips twisting downward into an annoyed frown. “He’s expecting me. Are you Ezra?”
Nodding, I’d let her in, telling her to stay put while I went to fetch him. “What have I told you about puck bunnies before the game, Chase?”
The outraged gasp from right behind me had my cheeks growing uncomfortably hot. She hadn’t stayed put.
“Who you calling a puck bunny, puck head? I see Chase got all the charm and you got all the rudeness. I brought the corrections and explanations for your Calculus homework, Chase,”she’d said frostily, passing the notebook to my brother and sweeping back toward the door like an offended queen.
Chase was nearly pissing himself with laughter as I’d followed her, trying to make amends. I’d only made it worse.
“You apologized by saying you didn’t realize I was his tutor and how your brother only dated ditzy girls,” Callie says, grinning wickedly as I squirm in my seat.
“Yeah, yeah. And, you reminded me that my brother was attending an Ivy League school, that even puck bunnies might be brilliant beyond their taste in men and that you were, in fact, tutoring and dating my brother.”
From that day on, I’d been lost around her, wanting someone I couldn’t have and fucking it up at every turn when we spoke. Until the day I scolded a college girl in defense of my brother and she’d later fled his apartment in tears and disappeared from our lives. She has no idea how much I regret it. I have no idea how to fix it. She changed her last name to avoid us, for fuck’s sake.
“Here we are,” Callie says, drawing me from my miserable memories.
My old anxiety amps up. She said about twenty-five were expected along with her cousin’s family who’s in town from Chicago. I can smell the delicious aroma of the backyard grill from the street as we walk up the painted sidewalk to the neat little house with red shutters. My nerves are in knots but my stomach says, ‘Let’s eat.’
The front door opens and Wyatt runs into the arms of his grammy. She hugs her grandson but her sharp eyes land on me with disapproval. I offer the bouquet of yellow roses and purple freesia I purchased earlier. “Hello, Mrs. Anderson. I’m-”
“I know who you are, Mr. Sokolov.” She knows who I am, she knows who I’m related to, and I suspect this woman does not think Callie should be giving me the time of day. She inspects the friendly gesture of flowers with a wary eye – like mother, like daughter – before accepting them. “Callie says your manners have improved somewhat since she first met you.”
Fucking hell, I can only imagine the things Callie’s told this woman. “I hope so, ma’am.”
“I hope so, too. Just remember, you’re not the only billionaire we know.”
“Mama, be nice. Ezra, this is my mother, Waela, who is happy we could make it to her cookout. Who’s grilling with Charlie laid up?”
“Tyson. With Charlie directing it all of course.”
“I’m sure Tyson knows what he’s doing. Where should I put the pasta salad?”
“In the fridge until we’re ready for it. Well, come in,” she huffs at me before stalking off, calling over her shoulder, “Shoes off when you’re inside my house.”
I notice Callie and Wyatt doing the same and quickly obey orders. Despite being a foot shorter than me, I don’t think I’d ever dare disobey this woman.
“Grammy’s name means hummingbird. Did you know that, Ezra? Did you?” Wyatt asks, oblivious to the lingering tension.
“I do now.”
Sure enough, there are hummingbirds here. I see where Callie got her love of them. Prints on the wall, feeders visible through every window, painted ones on the kitchen sink backsplash. It’s warm and cozy. Makes me wonder what Callie’s apartment looks like.
“You grew up here?” I ask after Wyatt has scampered off to find his visiting second cousin who’s around his age.
“I did.”
Glancing through the window again, I’m reminded we’re far from the first to arrive. There are several people milling around the backyard. Music, beer, chatter. We should go out and say hello. My feet feel like they’re made of lead. I’ve not mentioned my issues with social situations but Callie seems to sense something’s off. “Are you uncomfortable because you’re the only white person here?”
“No, that’s not it.” She raises an eyebrow. “Okay, it’s a new experience for me but that’s not really it. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
“Okay… I’m going to help Mama. Why don’t you look around before I take you out back to meet everyone?”
Gratefully, I nod.
There’s a collection of photographs on the sideboard in the little dining room. Waela and Callie’s stepfather on their wedding day with Callie holding the bouquet and flashing a gap-toothed grin. I’m guessing she was around eight. I wonder what happened to her biological father.
My heart clenches when I see the next photo - Callie holding her newborn son, just a tiny bundle in her arms. “How much did you weigh when you were born, Wyatt Anderson?”
“Seven pounds on the money,” Callie says softly from behind me.
“Thanks,” I tell her, absorbing this new detail. There’s another picture of Wyatt blowing out two candles. “When’s his birthday?”
“November 8th.”
My jaw drops. “That’s my-”
“Your birthday. I know.”
“You must’ve hated that.” Because she hated me.
She shakes her head. “Not really. He came when he was ready as most babies tend to do.”
Looking around, I think back on the house I grew up in. “My father put away all our photographs when Mom left.”
“All? Why did she… We don’t have to talk about it. Chase never wanted to talk about it.”
Maybe that was part of the problem. We never talked about it or about her once she was gone.
“Dad loved hockey. His son showed real promise. Everything became about getting me the best training, being seen by the right people. Travel teams, youth camps, Olympic scouting trips. Then, Chase started showing signs of talent, too. My father poured all his energy into it and she said there wasn’t enough room for her and hockey in our house anymore. She said we were more our father’s boys than hers and left.”
Her hand curls around mine. I feel my jaw growing tenser. I remember why we didn’t talk about it. Because it fucking hurts.
“You were her boys, too. How old were you?”
“I was thirteen. Chase was ten. He couldn’t stand sleeping alone at night for months after. He could never stay still in bed. It was annoying but…”
She sighs, softly. “You took care of him. Who took care of you?”
“I was the big brother,” I say, thinking it should be apparent that no one had to take care of me. It was my job to look after Chase. “What was the story with your father?”
She shrugs. “I never knew him. They were young and Mama said he couldn’t handle the idea of parenthood. He joined the military and sent money when I was small. The checks stopped after he left the service. Mama said it was just as well. We had each other and then we had Charlie. He’s all the father I could ever want or need.”
She sounds unbothered by it. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t believe Chase would want Wyatt.
“How did the three of you handle it when she left?” Callie asks, returning to more dangerous terrain.
By ignoring it. “We ate, slept and breathed hockey twice as hard with her gone. That’s all Dad knew to give us. It’s worked out okay, I guess.”
“Have you spoken to her since she left?”
I shake my head. “She remarried. She died a few years ago. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does if it’s still hurting you. Chase never wanted to talk about it and I see you don’t either. But, if you push the feelings away-”
“Mama!” Wyatt yells from somewhere else in the house. She gives me a sad look, a pitying look, and goes to find her son instead of pressing me about feelings I don’t want to examine.
I pick up a picture of Callie in her high school graduation cap and gown. “Princeton was far to fly from the nest, little hummingbird,” I murmur to myself.
“Too far.” Waela’s brusque words startle me. She’s quiet when she moves. “But we were so proud.”
“I’m sure you were. I’m sorry things didn’t...”
“Experiencing things, good and bad, is part of life and her grades were always top-notch. Made it easier for her to transfer back here and get that internship with my boyfriend.” I raise my eyebrows. “I mean Dean Culver.” Okay, my eyebrows may have merged with my hairline at that. “I’m pulling your leg.”
“Right,” I say, chuckling. I learned that Culver gave her an internship as a graduate student when Wyatt was very small. I wonder if he ever held him as a little baby. Probably. I think I hate that pretty boy with the surfer tan just a wee bit more today.
“I know you weren’t the reason she came home again, Ezra,” Waela adds. Wasn’t I? I feel like I played a role in that. “But, my daughter has lived in fear for too long of your brother finding out about Wyatt and messing with things. He didn’t want him. He doesn’t get him now.”
“You don’t know my brother.”
“I know the type.”
“My brother would’ve offered financial support at the very least.”
“What, so you all could call her a gold digger?”
“I would never-”
“She’s happy here. My grandson’s happy. They don’t need lots of money or some athlete swooping in with the media spotlight that would bring and spoiling things, or making them both promises he’ll never keep.”
“And, what about an uncle who wants to know him?”
“Is that all you’re after? To get close to Wyatt?” she asks, shrewdly.
“Mama, stop it,” Callie says sharply from the doorway. “It wasn’t Chase’s money I wanted and it’s fine if Ezra only wants a chance to know Wyatt. Come on out and meet my stepdad,” she tells me.
I follow but I can’t help thinking over her statement. ‘It wasn’t Chase’s money I wanted.’ Does that mean she dreamt of something else with him?
“Sorry about that,” Callie says as we fill our plates.
“It’s alright. I guess she never got a chance to say what she wanted to my brother, huh?”
“No, you were the sacrificial Sokolov, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been worse.”
The afternoon winds on and I wish I could grow a second stomach with such good food on hand. Her stepdad Charlie’s friendly and Waela hasn’t come back for another round. I wouldn’t mind if she did. I respect her. She’s a mama bear. Just like her daughter.
“Like mother, like daughter is right when it comes to those two,” Charlie comments when I mention the comparison. “I started seeing Waela when Callie was seven. She was a damn fine woman but some of my friends asked me why I’d want to mess around with a woman who already had a kid. They didn’t get it.”
“You were never bothered wondering about Callie’s biological father?”
Charlie chuckles and shakes his head. “Not one bit. He wasn’t here and I was. Waela told me from the start they were a package deal. I knew it. I accepted it. Never bothered me one iota.” He gives me a wry smile. “The same would be true of Callie and Wyatt.”
“The package deal doesn’t scare me either.”
Charlie nods, approvingly. What I don’t say aloud is the part which does scare me - what it would mean for my relationship with my brother.
Wyatt is sitting at the kids’ sized picnic table with his cousin Cicely and a couple of other children. Poor kid’s eyes are crossing he’s sucking on that straw so hard. “I think Wyatt’s juice box is empty,” I say. I get up to grab him another one as Callie starts to move. “Stay put and eat. I’ll get it. The orange one, right?”
She nods, staring at me like I’m doing something weird.
After fixing Wyatt up, Tyson, the cousin from Chicago’s husband, stops me and asks about the team. A couple of other men join us. The conversation runs from hockey to football and on to Charlie’s broken ankle and my injuries. It doesn’t bother me to talk about that. I always knew the end of my playing days would come eventually. Some day just came sooner than expected.
With the friendly chatter, I really start to relax, catching Callie’s eye every now and then. She’s smiling at me. She could still melt glaciers with that smile. I melted for her a long time ago. I just couldn’t show it.
Waela walks over, asking for more brisket. “Wyatt has watched your old games with his grandfather. Charlie never followed hockey. He had to get a book about it to satisfy Wyatt’s thirst for knowledge.”
Chuckling, I can’t say I’m surprised. “He’s a very curious kid. Very smart.”
Waela smiles. Maybe I’ve said something right. “He thought you had the coolest nickname of any player. Falcon this and Falcon that for days on end. We have a fondness for birds around here.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“He was sad when we told him you didn’t play anymore.”
“Well, I can still skate and play. Just not like before. I could play with him. I just… I just want a chance to be in his life. As much as Callie allows. Just me.”
“That might be okay then,” she says, patting my arm.
Her expression changes from thoughtful to sheer delight the next instant. “Will you look at that? Don’t tell my husband but my boyfriend just showed up.”
Perplexed, I turn in time to see Dean Culver coming through the backdoor with his wife on his arm. He’s chuckling and flashing his dimples as Waela hurries over to greet him. I see he’s close to more than Callie still. I’ll bet you did get to hold Wyatt as a baby, smug fucker.
But, that’s okay because I’m here now. And, I’m not going anywhere.