Chapter Eighteen Barrett #2
“Never,” Dad said. His eyes remained closed, and his hands were folded over his stomach as he rested on the couch. They’d been in the box with the kids, and Bridget and her wife. “I’m sure they would’ve been the best cookies I’d ever had in my life, too, if I’d been allowed to try them.”
“Everyone feels very sorry for you, honey.” My mom patted his shoulder, only a little bit condescendingly.
The kids snuggled on the couch—one of them next to my mom and the other next to my dad—and I smiled as I watched them.
The best part of having the early game was being home at a decent time, and today it felt even sweeter.
For a while, at least, my days would be a bit shorter, have a lot less meetings.
I could have dinner with my kids. Not really tuck them in at night, though, because they’d both proclaimed themselves too old to be tucked in anymore.
Needing to let go of that was a loss of sorts, something I hadn’t really thought of when they were younger.
One random night—I couldn’t even remember when—was the last time I’d tucked them in.
Leaving work early enough to be able to do that had been so important to me, and there was no warning when those things suddenly went away.
The thought of missing them, especially on a voluntary basis like Rachel, was absolutely unfathomable. There hadn’t been a fight over custody because she didn’t want to split anything. I was already dreading the two weeks in the summer they’d be with her. And next Christmas, I’d be alone.
We’d already taken down the tree, the corner of the room now filled with a floor lamp and a basket that held a couple of blankets.
Next year, I likely wouldn’t even put it up—and it was that thought that sent my eyes over to the spot on the wall that had held the mistletoe—a gift from my daughter, I’d later found out.
That was gone too.
Where would Lily be next Christmas? Absently, I rubbed at my chest. Even though it wasn’t mine to worry about, the question gnawed at me all the same.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and there was a punch in my chest when I thought it might be Lily, irrational though it was. I had her number and she had mine, but now that she wasn’t watching the kids, there wasn’t much reason for me to text her.
But the text wasn’t from her.
It was from someone just as surprising, though.
Griffin: Your win didn’t suck today.
I shook my head, quickly deciding I couldn’t do this with an audience, especially if my parents had any idea that there was some form of reciprocal conversation happening between us.
Then there was pressure, expectations. And more than anything, my brother and I needed space to figure out what a relationship between us looked like.
I didn’t answer until I took a seat in the den, which also served as my office.
Me: Neither did yours.
Griffin: You feel as tired as I do right now?
Me: Probably not. You had four sacks and played every defensive snap with a half-healed arm.
Griffin: It’s not Half-Healed. I’m fine. That mother of ours is running her mouth, isn’t she?
Me: It’s possible.
For a moment, three dots appeared on the screen and then disappeared, only to reappear again. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one stumbling through these occasional interactions.
Griffin: I wanted to ask you something if you’ve got a minute.
Me: No, I don’t think you’re better looking than me.
Griffin: Holy fuck, did you just make a joke?
Me: I’m funny.
Griffin: Uh-huh.
Griffin: Anyway . . . would you be okay with the kids coming to spend a few days with me and Ruby now that the season’s done? We’d love to spend some time with them.
Griffin: Intentional time. You know, when you’re aware they’re flying to see me. I already told Maggie she’s not allowed to forge paperwork anymore.
I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed, thinking of how my kids would want me to answer. They’d beg and plead. Promise all sorts of things in exchange for a long weekend with Griffin and his fiancée.
The selfish part of me wanted to say no. My schedule had just freed up, too, breathing room that would allow me to see them more. Clinging tight to Maggie and Bryce would be so easy. More than anything, I wanted to keep them near me after such an exhausting season.
But it wouldn’t be fair.
Me: Give me at least a week with them now that I can breathe again, but after that, I’d be open to letting them visit.
Griffin: Thank you. I know you have every reason to say no, but I miss them.
Me: They miss you too. And you’re welcome.
Griffin: I don’t want to sound like a sappy asshole . . .
Me: Dear God, then don’t. I already said yes, you don’t have to suck up to me.
Griffin: First, I would never. Second, there’s only two reasons I get sappy. Ruby and your kids, so trust me, it has nothing to do with you.
Me: Okay.
Griffin: It’s just, I know this is hard for you. To let go of them like this. Especially to me. I know I’ve changed a lot, mostly thanks to Ruby, who is a thousand times too good for me, but I think maybe you’ve changed too. I’m proud of us, you know?
Griffin: Fuck, don’t tell mom and dad I said that. They’ll cry. It’ll be a whole big dramatic thing.
Me: My lips are sealed. I’ll text you some dates that work.
Griffin: Thank you.
I sucked in a deep breath and sent one more text.
Me: Maybe you and Ruby could fly here to get them. I’d love to spend some more time with her.
Griffin: Yeah, we’d love that.
Me: One night maybe?
Griffin: Fucking baby steps. I think two days with your ass and I’d run back to Colorado.
When my screen went dark, I was smiling to myself. It was messy and incredibly imperfect, but it was something. It reminded me of our win today. For so long—my entire life, really—I’d sought out perfection. There was a certain kind of insulation that came with it.
If I do this exactly right, everything will be okay.
My grades.
My play on the field.
Then it was proposing to Rachel, even though every single red flag existed early in our relationship.
When playing football was gone, my marriage dissolved shortly after. Then coaching. If I studied more film, if I gave up just a bit more sleep, if I had the perfect game plan . . .
But it was impossible. All of it. I couldn’t do any of it perfectly.
And now it was becoming increasingly clear that parenting, especially on my own, would fall far short of perfect as well.
Even the appearance of Lily in our lives, my interest in her that wasn’t going anywhere, was as imperfect as it could get too.
There’d be no flirting with her. No wooing her.
Underneath that shell—and it was a tough one—there was something incredibly vulnerable about her, and more than anything, I wanted to dig deeper.
Wanted to know why she protected herself so fiercely.
I just . . . wanted more. Whatever that looked like, really. Even if it was messy, even if it was clumsy and uncomfortable to put myself in a position with this woman where she might hurt or reject me.
There wasn’t always failure waiting behind the release of perfection. Sometimes it was moments like this. Acceptance that I was willing to mess up.
My brother was willing to do that when he texted me. The guy who never took anything seriously outside of football.
I opened up my phone again and started a new text thread, attaching a video with a simple caption.
Me: You’ve created a monster.
Her response was immediate, and exactly what I’d been hoping for.
Lily: This is the best thing I’ve ever seen! Omg, you just made my night.
Me: Then I’m glad I sent it.
Now it was Lily’s turn to make the bubbles appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Me: I’ve rendered you speechless. I had no idea I was that powerful.
Lily: Fuck off, I just wasn’t sure how you meant it.
Me: I meant it how I said it. No ulterior motive.
Lily: Huh. What a novel concept.
Lily: So . . . did you win your game today?
Me: We did.
Lily: No wonder you’re in such an accommodating mood.
Me: Now would be the time to ask me to shovel the driveway. I’d probably say yes.
Lily: I can clear my own driveway, thank you very much.
Me: . . .
Lily: I swear, if you’re smiling right now . . . You know what I mean.
Me: Indeed I do.
Lily: I’m not even sure you’re capable of a smile.
Me: Is that your way of asking for a picture?
Lily: Fuck. Off. Like I’d give you the satisfaction.
Me: Does that mean I can’t ask for one?
To my delight, Lily attached one. I could see her eyes, staring dark and direct into the camera. The rest of her face, though, was obscured by her middle finger.
In the dark of my office, with no one to see, I smiled, laughing under my breath as I saved the picture to my phone.