Chapter 36 Tristan
TRISTAN
I’m hit by the smell of charred meat before I even open the door to Chuck’s Roadhouse, a restaurant within walking distance of my apartment.
When I first moved to Columbus before the beginning of the season, I ate here at least once a week, slightly addicted to the heavily seared, perfectly pink, medium rare T-bone.
No onions, no sauce, no mushrooms. Meat and fire in pure harmony.
Radek and I slide into a booth. He’s still a sore loser, but it’s hard to resist a perfect steak.
The vinyl seats sag in the middle, the table’s got one leg shorter than the others so it tilts if I lean too hard.
Radek looks around doubtfully at first, but he’ll be a convert as soon as the food hits the table.
Before we even get our hands on the menus, Gretchen shows up, ready to take our orders.
“Hey, Gretchen. This is Radek Novak, an old friend from college.”
She nods enthusiastically, her silver hair swinging. “Good to meet you, Radek. Nice game tonight, boys.”
We chat for a minute before I say, “He’ll have the T-bone, too.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says with a wink before moving through the restaurant faster than women half her age.
The other thing I love about this place? It’s fast. Within fifteen minutes, thick steaks sizzle in front of us. Radek’s eyes are dazed, as if Gretchen delivered divine intervention.
“You weren’t kidding about this place.” He rubs his hands together, eager to dig in. “This beats the salads I get at home and the damn chicken nuggets the kids eat all the time.”
“That’s rough. How old are your girls?”
“Daisy is four and Emily is six. Our living room is full of stuffed toys and ballet shoes. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“That’s great,” I say in all sincerity. I bet he’s an incredible dad, this brute of a hockey player with his ballet-dancing girls twirling around him.
Radek and I jump on our steaks, chewing contentedly for a while.
“The long travel stints are hard on everyone,” he adds with a sigh. “Penelope has her hands full.”
“You ever think about what your life would’ve been if you hadn’t met Penelope in high school?”
Radek shrugs and takes a drink. “She made fun of my hair and said hockey players are bimbos on skates. Love at first insult.”
I snort in amusement. “Really? You fell for her, just like that?”
“Falling in love is easy when you’re chock-full of hormones at sixteen. It’s the staying in love part that’s less predictable. You saw how we were through college.”
Penelope also went to Michigan State, which is how I’ve had a glimpse of their relationship.
“What about college?” I ask.
“Plenty of things got in the way. Our schedules, mostly. The stress of school. The uncertainties of the draft. Still, we weathered things, one storm at a time.”
There’s a tiny pang of envy. But more than anything, I’m happy for him.
“What’s the secret?”
Radek puts down his fork and leans forward. “It’s no secret. Show up and pay attention. That’s it. If you’re right for each other, the showing up will be a breeze.”
He takes another drink before continuing. “But if paying attention to each other is a struggle, maybe that’s another conversation. I wouldn’t know. It never mattered how much Penny and I got on each other’s nerves, I’d still rather be with her on her worst day than with anyone else on their best.”
I think about Ligaya and our history of getting on each other’s nerves. How her special brand of witty sarcasm is more entertaining to me than anything. How I could spend the rest of my life paying attention.
From the front of the bar, the laughter of a cluster of women interrupts my thoughts. One of them waves our way. I take a drink of beer and avoid further eye contact.
“College Tristan would’ve gone over there.”
“College Tristan didn’t know any better.”
“I thought you were dating that model in Denver? What happened?”
I wipe my mouth with the napkin before answering, not in the mood to get into my measly dating history.
“Charlotte didn’t last two weeks after my knee surgery. She was gone before I could even take off the brace. To be fair, we had only been seeing each other for a month. I don’t blame her.”
Radek leans back, tossing his napkin on the table. “She did you a favor by leaving. Someone like that doesn’t deserve you.”
“Or maybe I wasn’t worth sticking around for.”
He rolls his eyes. “If you loved her, you’d have kept her close, broken knee or not.”
Somehow, his words ring true when I think about Ligaya.
“There is someone,” I say hesitantly at first.
Who am I kidding, tiptoeing around the subject? I asked Radek to hang out with me because he’s a great guy in a solid relationship. A family man whose advice is golden.
“Her name is Ligaya. We went to high school together. Reconnected for a bit. Without planning to, she got pregnant. With twins. Our twins.” I’m not exactly delivering the news with eloquence, but Radek gets enough information to send him howling.
Half the bar looks our way. He doesn’t notice. Just reaches over and pats my back.
“Congratulations, man! That’s huge.”
“It is,” I say almost shyly. “You’re right. I’d always want Ligaya and the kids in my life.”
It wouldn’t have mattered how battered my body, I would fight to be the man they needed.
Radek finishes his beer with a long, slow sip and sets it down loudly, like an exclamation point.
“That’s the kind of news you deliver with a big-ass smile, my friend. Not that grimace you’re wearing like you’re on your way to a colonoscopy. What’s the problem?”
“For one thing, I wouldn’t know where to begin to be a good father. My dad provided for us, but he’s no model for how I want to be with our kids. He never wanted to be with us, to understand us. When my sister died, it all went to shit.”
The fact of our twins’ arrival overwhelms me with emotions. Love and protectiveness and pride.
But there’s anxiety, too, that I’ll fail. That wanting children with Ligaya, wishing our family into existence, will tempt fate. Anyone who thinks I’m exaggerating has probably never lost someone as important—as essentially permanent—as Olive was to me.
“I’m sorry, Tristan. That sucks.”
“Not looking for a pity party, Novie. Give me a game plan. How do I get this right?”
“Dads get things wrong all the time. Ask my kids. The difference is you want to understand them. You want to be close and build something together. You and Ligaya will figure it out.”
I give an ambivalent shrug.
“Are you together? Or is it, like, platonic co-parenting? That’s cool, too.”
“It isn’t platonic. We can’t get enough of each other. But she’s all about keeping things casual because we need to focus on the kids. No relationship drama.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I want it all,” I tell him honestly. Voicing my innermost desires is so freeing, I can’t stop myself from spilling out, “I asked her to marry me. She turned me down.”
After a beat, he says, “She isn’t wrong about focusing on the pregnancy and the kids.”
“Of course she isn’t wrong. She’s smart and brilliant and amazing. All I want is to be with her, take care of her in every way. It’s the mutual commitment part I can’t lock down.”
From beyond the window, snow’s falling like a curtain under the streetlamp. I stare out at it, unwilling to return Radek’s frank assessment of my tight jaw and stiff lips.
“You’re a wuss.”
“Excuse me? I’m paying for your dinner. At the very least, I deserve a better insult than wuss.”
“You haven’t told her you’re in love with her, have you?”
My face gives it away.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“The pregnancy is her priority.”
“The pregnancy is definitely the priority, but that does not change the fact that she deserves to hear how you feel about her. Whatever she does with your love, that’s up to her.
You can’t force the issue. But you man up and offer everything at her feet.
Whether or not she returns your love is not the point.
Your commitment to her should be crystal clear, whether or not she’s ready to reciprocate. ”
The words hit my chest as hard as a sledgehammer. It cracks something inside me, allowing me a peek beyond my self-imposed barriers. What he’s advising is both the scariest and the most amazing scenario in the world. Could I really do that? Openly tell her I love her?
“It’s risky, but you’re right,” I admit.
“Brother, this woman is taking a risk carrying your beautiful children who might have heads as disproportionately large as yours—”
“Hey!”
“If she’s taking that risk, the least you can do is put your wussy heart out there and tell her how you really feel. Don’t be a coward.”
“You’re right, Novie.”
“I like the sound of you saying that. Let me record you so it’ll be your special ringtone.”
His teasing barely reaches my ears as I think about Ligaya.
I want her to be mine. Instead of blurting out “marry me” and hanging around her house like a grifter, I should go on my knees and beg her to give us a chance. A real one that will be the true foundation for our family.
The pregnancy was unexpected, but my feelings for Ligaya are inevitable.
What fool of a man wouldn’t jump at the chance to be with a woman like her?
It’s time to admit it out loud.
I am unexpectedly and irrevocably in love with the mother of my children.