Chapter 25 A Magical Membership
A MAGICAL MEMBERSHIP
“Go Owen!” I holler my cheer alongside a row of other parents and supporters. Then I punch my fist into the air and roar, “Yeah!”
I watch as a pride I’ve never felt in my life balloons in my chest. Owen bounces on his feet as he shoots his fists high, his face red, hair clinging to his temples wet with sweat.
But it’s his smile that hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Sometimes, I swear, when I look at the kid—I see so much of myself.
Maybe it’s his passion for soccer, so like the fire that burns in me for hockey. Maybe it’s the remnants of my brother left behind in a world where I’ll do my darndest to ensure he’s never forgotten.
I always did look like Tate, only darker in coloring. Owen looks like Tate, too. But there’s no question he got Pop’s side of the family genes.
Owen swings that smile to me, and that balloon of pride just keeps on swelling.
That’s my boy. The thought enters my mind before I have time to check it. For a moment, I’m shaken by it. By the finality of it. The sureness.
Because it’s not wrong. He is my boy now. Maybe Tate was right, and he was always meant to be mine, like this. They were all meant to be mine. Ours.
How can life’s plan be so completely fucked up?
Owen jogs off the field and I do my best to shove my thoughts into the deep dark of my mind. I’ll pull them out later, when I’m alone. Then, I’ll analyze them.
“Uncle Holt, you came.”
“Of course, I came. You invited me.” I grip him in for a tight hug and a pat on the back. “You played great, kid.”
His smile hasn’t dulled at all. “Thanks.”
Yeah, the kid has been bit by the same bug of passion I was bit by so long ago. A lifetime ago.
“Hey, Mom,” Owen calls, his fingers moving through his sweaty hair. “Some of the guys are heading to Colton’s. Is it cool if I go, too?”
“Oh.” Faye nibbles her lip. “I don’t see why not.”
His smile stretches wider. “We’re planning on going to a movie later, if that’s okay?”
“Sure.” Faye nods, then she pats her pockets. “Damn, I don’t have any money on me, bud.” Her head begins to swivel, looking for her parents. “Let me ask…”
I pull my wallet from my pocket and hand Owen forty. He takes it with a grin and a, “Sweet, thanks.”
“Have fun,” I call as he jogs back to his friends.
Faye’s eyes lift to mine, honey brown and sticky enough to trap me there forever. “You didn’t have to do that.” She slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she rocks in her sneakers. “But thank you.”
“Welcome.”
Mabel asks prettily, “Can we go to a movie, too?”
Faye visibly winces. “I don’t know, kiddo.”
“Pleaaaase.” She presses her palms together and blinks hopefully up at her mother. Then, suspecting she’s not getting anywhere, she turns those green eyes to me. “Please, Uncle Holt.”
Ah, damn.
I don’t know how Tate denied her.
I crouch down low. “It’s beautiful outside. Why don’t I hit up the grocery store, grab some steaks and grill them on the barbecue?”
“You’re going to come over?” she asks, considering.
“If that’s okay with your mom.” I look up at Faye who looks a mix of uncertain and hopeful. I cock my head and she sighs, nodding. Mabel sees it and squeals as she claps.
Then she tells me, “I don’t want steaks.”
“What do you want, princess?”
“Hot dogs!” she exclaims loudly. Then she leans in close to whisper, “But not like mommy cooks them. I want them like daddy makes them.”
The fact she speaks in the present tense about her father nearly stops my heart right there. Then she turns her eyes on Faye and asks, “Mommy, is Daddy coming home soon?”
Behind Faye, with a handful of bottled water, Doug and Candace stop dead in their tracks. Faye’s eyes shutter closed as she inhales sharp and quick through her nose. Then, softly, she says, “No, baby. Remember, he’s in Heaven.”
“I want to go to Heaven!” Mabel stomps her foot, her face growing red.
People around us are starting to stare, sympathy bright in their eyes. Faye looks like she wants to crumble into pieces right here right now.
As for me, I feel like I’ve taken buckshot to the heart. The pain is everywhere.
Because I’m still kneeling down on one knee, I pull Mabel onto the one I’ve got propped up as a stool. Her green eyes are watery with frustration and her feet swing back and forth as she folds her arms in a defensive pout.
I pull in breath and tell her, “Heaven is really far away, princess.”
“We can take a plane.”
Christ. “It’s a special place. A magical place. It’s kind of like a club, you see.”
Interest alights in her eyes. “A magic club?”
I nod. “The most magical of clubs. But you see, the only way we can get in, is by living the best life we can live. You know how your daddy was the best daddy? How he loved you so much? How he’d wake up with you in the night and look at the stars?”
Mabel giggles as she nods. “And howl at the moon like wolves.”
“He was the best daddy.” My voice cracks. I can’t make myself look at Faye. “He made the best hot dogs, just the way you liked them. And he was always there, whenever you needed him. Your safe space.”
Her eyes are spilling tears now.
She nods. “Daddy had the best hugs.”
“All that got your daddy a membership into the best and most magical club.”
“Heaven?” Her brows furrow.
I nod. “Yeah, princess. Heaven. He lived such a good life, that he got to go there. And guess what?”
“What?” She sniffles, the faintest of pouts remaining on her face.
“He’s waiting for you there. But the only way you can get there is by living a long and full life, the best that you can live it, okay?”
“And then I’ll get to go to Heaven, too?”
“Yeah, Mabel.” Fuck, I think I’m going to cry. “Then you’ll get to go to Heaven, too.”
She’s silent for a long minute, her brilliantly beautiful mind working to understand all I’ve said. She whispers, “Daddy’s not coming back, is he?”
“No, princess. Once we go to the club of Heaven, we stay there. We wait for the ones we love to live out their best life, and then we give them a membership, too.”
She wipes away a tear before she throws her arms around my shoulders. “I’m going to give the best hugs and live the best life. Then I’m going to go to Heaven, too!”
I squeeze her a little tighter. I think in this moment, I’m trying to keep the wreckage of my bludgeoned heart from spilling into the rest of me. Holding my brother’s daughter tightly is the glue I need to keep those pieces contained, if only a little.