Chapter 7
seven
. . .
T he phone rings with Mack’s ringtone and his face fills my screen. I can’t help but smile at the photo of us, with him in his football uniform and me holding the trophy our team won when he was in junior high. I realize I should probably update it, but it’s one of my favorites of us. I press the accept button and wait for our video chat to connect.
“Hey, bud,” I say when I see him.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
Not well. Any and everything continues to circumvent me from leaving here and returning to Beaumont. “It’s good,” I lie. It’s probably the biggest lie of my life right now. Mack angles the phone differently and right away I can tell where he is and I’m both jealous and hurt. I should be there, with Noah, when he takes the field for his first ever Super Bowl. But I’m not. I’m still in Johannesburg.
“Oh, you know. Living someone’s dream.” My sarcasm is lost on Mack, and I know better than to dump my problems on him. “Are you having fun?”
“So much fun,” he says. “Noah brought me into the locker room and Peyton arranged for a tour of the entire stadium. Liam’s going to sing the national anthem.”
“Is he? Wow, that's pretty damn special.”
“Noah and I wish you were here.”
“You have no idea how much I want to be there, bud.”
“I get it,” he says. “Mom needs you.”
She does. At least that’s what she tells me. Ever since she had a young girl die on her, Aubrey hasn’t been the same. When I told her I had a flight back to the States, she panicked and asked for a few more days. Those days turned into weeks, and each time I bring it up, she tells me she’s not comfortable with me leaving yet. I can’t tell if it’s a ploy on her part or if this is her way of rebuilding our relationship. Most nights, she’s made it home either by dinner or in time to tuck Amelie in, and then she asks me to sit at the table with her while she eats. I don’t push her, but if she wants to reconcile and fix what’s broken, I’d like for her to say something.
“Do you have good seats?”
“Yep, fifty-yard line. We have this huge section because the players’ wives are going to sit with us. Grandma Bianca is coming. Josie says I can’t listen to anything she says because she cusses like a sailor. It’s not like I’m a child and haven’t heard someone swear before.”
“Do you swear?” I ask him.
“Uh . . .”
I laugh. “It’s fine, Mack. I think everyone swears at your age.”
“Yeah, we do. It’s a thing.”
It is. I remember being the same way, although I didn’t much care for swearing.
“Do you know when you’re going to be home?”
“I’m hoping it will be soon.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to leave if Mom or Amelie needs you. Like, I’m okay with the Westburys. They’re really great people. Liam has me pitching to him every day. He taught me how to throw a slider. It’s pretty wicked.”
And there it is—what I feared most—Liam raising my son. I know some would argue I did the same thing with Noah when he was young, but the circumstances are different. We didn’t know where Liam was, and Liam didn’t know that he had a son. I want to be in Beaumont. I want to be with both my children. With my family. Together, in one place. But right now, I can’t, and short of splitting myself in two, I won’t be able to until I know exactly what Aubrey wants to do. This trip was supposed to be temporary. I should’ve been back by now, but here I am a world away from my son, who doesn’t seem to need me. Yet, I need him. I’m not mad at Liam. He’s doing exactly what I asked and what he promised. I’m mad at myself. At Aubrey. At life.
“If I remember correctly, Liam and Noah could both throw a nasty slider. I’m happy Liam showed you.”
“I like him. He’s fun to hang out with.”
“And Betty Paige?”
Mack’s cheeks flare red. I groan. I didn’t have the chat with him before I left, and I should’ve. Adjusting, I inhale deeply and prepare myself. “Listen, I need you to promise me that you’re abiding by Liam’s house rules. You and Paige . . . well you’re too young?—”
“Dad,” Mack interrupts. “I follow all the rules, and while I like Paige a lot, I respect Liam and Noah. Noah told me she’s off limits. I’m listening to him.”
“Thank God,” I mutter under my breath. “Listen to Noah!”
Mack laughs. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want Liam to lock me in his basement or anything. That place is soundproof.”
“Probably best,” I tell him.
“Are you working with Mom?”
“No, but one of my former coworkers offered me a job. I turned it down though.”
“Why? You like helping people.”
“I do, but I also want to come home to you. If I have a job, I have to sign a contract. Doing so limits my ability to leave when I want.”
Mack’s quiet for a moment. “I think you should work, Dad. You’re a good doctor and things are going really well here. Noah said if I can’t stay with his parents I can stay at Peyton’s grandpa’s. I’ve been mowing his lawn, too. I miss you, but I also know the people over there would benefit from someone like you.”
“I miss you too, bud. You have no idea how much. I’ll think about what you said though, because you are right, I do like helping people. However, it’s a decision I can’t make without consulting Josie and Liam. Maybe even Noah. This is one of those moments where it takes a village to raise a child. They’re the village and you’re the child. I can’t dump you on them anymore than I have.”
“Dad, they make me feel like I’m part of their family. I don’t know how else to explain it and I’m being respectful. Liam and Josie have rules and I follow each one. Liam’s great. We do a lot of things together, especially when it comes to football and baseball. They always make sure my homework is done, my grades are good, and there’s always food on the table. I know this was a hard decision for you, but I love you for it. Dad, Noah’s about to run out and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Go, Mack. I’ll be watching!”
“Love you,” he says as he hangs up.
He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else. I don’t know how long I hold the phone, but it’s long enough for my hand to cramp. Quickly, I log into the sports app and project the image to the television. I’m in time to see Liam sing the anthem. What an honor it must be for him to sing before his son takes the field.
Tears spill onto my cheeks and I can’t shut them off. I’m bitter. Angry. I should be there. Noah worked hard to get where he is and I was there every step of the way, from Peewee to junior high, high school to college when he didn’t have any offers for football, only baseball. He didn’t give up and walked on at Notre Dame, only to be offered a scholarship the next year due to his performance. I was there on draft day, sitting at the table with Liam and Josie, and I should be at the stadium now, cheering my ass off when he runs out onto the field. But I’m here, a million miles away, torn between my wife who either wants a divorce and doesn’t want me around, or is asking me not to leave because she’s not entirely comfortable with her schedule yet. And then there’s our children. One living his life and telling me to stay and help the people of South Africa. And the other is fighting me every step of the way when it comes to wearing a damn uniform to school and not understanding why it’s not safe for her to go to work with her mother. That child has no idea what it’s like when you leave a civilized city.
Aubrey comes into the room. I wipe my tears and avoid looking at her. She sits down next to me, too close, but I don’t dare move a muscle. I never know when it’s going to be an all-out fight which I’m definitely not in the mood for or a love fest.
“What are you watching?”
“The Super Bowl.”
“It’s so late. Do you need to watch it now?”
“Yes, I do.” My words have bite. “Noah’s playing.” I can barely say those two words without my voice cracking. “It’s the biggest game of his life and I’m not there.”
“And that’s my fault?”
Yes and no.
Yes, because I’m here and don’t have the balls to leave. Mostly because of Amelie and there’s a silver hope that my wife wants me, that she wants to make our marriage work.
No, because when we left, we had no idea Noah and the Portland Pioneers would crush their competition in the playoffs. They’re the underdog. No one expected them to be there. Certainly, not me. If I had, I wouldn’t be here.
“It’s no one’s fault,” I tell her. “They won and made it. They could’ve easily lost.” Had I gone home when planned I would’ve been there.
“Is Mack there?” she asks.
“He is. He called earlier but I thought you were asleep, or I would’ve taken you the phone. He was in the locker room, and he got a tour of the stadium.”
“They’re treating him well.”
“Like he’s theirs,” I remind her.
“Are you going to stay up and watch the game?”
I nod and she sighs.
“Okay, well, I’ll make some snacks then.”
Aubrey heads into the kitchen and returns after the coin toss. She has a bowl of popcorn, chips, and a couple of drinks.
“We don’t have much for snacks,” she tells me.
“The grocery stores are a lot different here,” I point out.
“True.” She sets the bowl of popcorn between us and hands me a drink. “Go Noah,” she says as she taps her drink to mine.
Mostly, we sit in silence—that is, until the Pioneers score. Then we erupt in applause, we dance and high-five each other. This is the Aubrey I’m used to. Not the one who emerged a year ago, the sullen withdrawn one. The one who told me she felt suffocated in our marriage. The one next to me is acting like my best friend and partner.
When the fourth quarter starts, we’re on the edge of our seats. The score keeps flip-flopping. We’re up, then the other team, then us. It’s too much and I’m nervous. At one point, I stand and began pacing only for Aubrey to encourage me to sit back down.
“He can’t see or hear you,” she reminds me. “Sit down so we can watch together.”
I do as she says, and she puts her hand on my leg. Do I ignore it being there ?
“Even if he doesn’t win, it’s an accomplishment being there.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But to Noah and the guys, it’ll be the biggest let down of their lives if they don’t win. Some teams have all the luck and make it to the big game multiple times. Some teams go and don’t ever win. And then some teams make it once and never go back. You play to win, always.”
“Winning isn’t everything,” she says.
I give her a sideways glance. “When they’re little, yes, because we want them to learn the fundamentals. When you get to high school, college, and the pros, winning is everything. Winning gets you noticed. Losing gets you fired or benched. These organizations are paying their players millions of dollars to win. They’re expected to win, and if they don’t, they’re expected to fix their shit before the next season starts.”
“Ugh, that’s too much pressure. Oh look, there’s Noah.”
The camera steadies on him as he talks to his coach. I wish I could read lips to figure out what they’re saying. Now I know what Aaron Burr felt like when he just wanted to be included. It sucks knowing the only reason I’m not there is because I’ve excluded myself. I’m failing Mack as his father, and I’ve failed Noah.
When the clock winds down, more tears stream down my cheeks. Aubrey’s cheering, but I’m dying a little on the inside. The boy I raised, the boy Mason and I taught how to play football, the boy I coached from the time he was little through high school just won the Super Bowl, and I’m half a world away because I can’t seem to leave my wife, even though she doesn’t want me.