Chapter 32 TJ
Beating the Milwaukee Steins, moving us one step closer to the playoffs, is a good feeling. Knowing Rachel is in the stands to watch me is a great feeling. Knowing I get to kiss her, and she can’t pretend we’re only friends, is the best feeling.
The minute the final whistle blows and the teams exchange handshakes, I’m headed over to the WAG seats, which are located in the section behind where my parents usually sit. I don’t want to think about them right now. My focus is on Rachel.
I climb up the railing and swing my legs over to reach the stands.
I take the steps two at a time, ignoring the burning in my fatigued legs.
She’s wearing a Buzzards hoodie, the kind they sell here at the stadium.
The tip of her nose is red from the cool autumn air.
I cannot control the grin that spreads across my face as I walk up to her.
"Hello, girlfriend," I pant, suddenly out of breath from the exertion. I put my hands on my hips and try to take a deep breath. Or three.
Rachel glances right and left. "Hello, boyfriend. Good game." She leans in, whispering in my ear, "I still don’t know anything about soccer to say more than that, but I don’t want to blow my cover."
Her breath, hot on the side of my face, nearly undoes me. A mental image of us lying in bed together, me drawing out the schematics of soccer plays on her bare abdomen, flashes through my brain. Yes, I’ll have to take the time to explain it to her. Slowly.
Rachel starts to pull away. This is my chance.
I scoop her jaw with both my hands, cradling her face.
Damn, those hot fudge eyes get me every time.
Gently, I guide her mouth to mine, watching her eyes flutter shut.
She tastes like sweet hard cider. Her lips part, and I slide my tongue in.
She’s now gripping the back of my hair with both hands, pulling me deeper into her.
Electricity zings through my body. This may be a show for her, but tell that to every hormone in every cell that is shouting at me to keep this going.
I can barely hear the catcalls and whistling, the cheers and jeers.
What I can hear is Rachel moaning softly into my mouth. I could kiss her all night long.
"Hey, dumbass, you wanna come up for air? That girl can barely breathe with you swallowing her face like that." Joey’s voice is like a vat of ice water dumped over my head.
I feel Rachel go rigid. I give her one last little kiss to reassure her before pulling back. I’m still gazing into her eyes and holding her face when I say to my asshole brother, "I don’t hear her complaining."
"That’s because you were swallowing her tongue."
I finally let go of Rachel, only to drop my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. "Can I help you?" I ask my brother.
"We’ll see you at Tom and Jerry’s. The one in Raynham." He brushes by me, clipping my other shoulder, and continues up and out of the stadium.
I turn back to Rachel, who’s staring at me with confusion. "Are … are you still meeting up with your family?" She pulls back slightly, so I let my arm fall to my side. Probably a good move since I really need a shower.
"Yeah, it’s what we do. It’s a little harder this time of year because a lot of the places are closed for the season. Tom and Jerry’s is open year-round. They just opened a new location that’s a little bit closer to here. You’re coming with, right? Give me a few minutes to shower."
"But … but I don’t understand," she stammers and repeats herself. "You’re still meeting up with your family?" Her face looks like that meme of someone trying to figure out advanced calculus.
"Yeah, it’s tradition. We don’t mess with that. Do you know what kind of fate could befall the team if we mess with it?"
"But … you’re upset with them. Rightfully so. I … I can’t believe you’re still speaking to them."
"Yeah, I’m mad, and at some point, we’re going to have to talk.
They’re going to tell me they did what they thought was best. I’m going to blame them for my life going the way it’s going.
Nicky’ll stand there, looking at his phone because he’s too good for us, and it’s beneath him to get involved in such plebeian affairs.
Joey’ll still call me stupid, even when shown evidence that I’m actually smarter.
He’ll take it the hardest. I’m smarter, and better looking, and my penis is bigger, so he can say whatever he wants. I still win."
Facts. He can put that in his stand-up routine.
"And … what’ll happen tonight?"
"We’ll get ice cream. We’ll talk about tonight’s game and the game next week. Ma will hug me and tell me she’ll be down for my laundry on Monday, because she picks it up on the Monday after home games, but not until the Tuesday after away games. She tells me this every week. Every. Single. Week."
"That’s just like the other times."
I nod. "Yup. Now let me go get showered and changed. You can wait in the lounge where you went before the game. I won’t be long." I lean in and give her a quick kiss on the forehead, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I jog back down the stairs, hop the rail, and sprint to the tunnel that takes me to our locker room. Normally, I take my time in the shower, but tonight I don’t want to keep Rachel waiting.
Rachel.
Her reaction to finding out we’re still seeing my family was interesting. I can’t get the expression on her face out of my mind. She was honestly and truly bewildered. I’ll bet she has no idea what it means to be able to trust.
Sure, I’m still upset with my parents. I don’t agree with how they handled the situation at all.
However, I can honestly say that whatever decisions they made for the three of us when we were growing up, they did out of love.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that they will always be here for my brothers and me.
Hair still dripping, I make my way up to the WAG lounge.
It’s got an actual name, but no one calls it anything but the WAG lounge.
Rachel’s in there with Ophelia, Hannah, and Carlos.
Oh good, she didn’t have to wait alone. They’re all laughing and smiling, and they look like they’re having a good time.
My heart threatens to jump out of my chest when she turns that smile toward me.
I’m tempted to do something foolish like bow and extend my hand, saying something corny like, "Are you ready, my lady?
Your chariot awaits." Instead, I shove my hands in my pockets and give a quick head jerk toward the exit. "You ready?"
Rachel stands up, and she’s quickly enveloped in a tight hug by Ophelia and then Carlos. Hannah hangs back and gives her a little wave. Rachel walks up to me and nods. "I’m ready." She glances back over her shoulder. "Thanks again! I … I had fun!"
I don’t think Rachel has fun very often, so I hope the rest of her squad realizes how huge it is for her to say that.
We walk out to my Trackhawk in silence. As we approach, I press the key fob in my pocket, the lights flashing as the vehicle unlocks.
I open the passenger side for her to get in, closing her in before walking around to the driver’s side.
Once I’m in the car, I start to plug the name of the ice cream shop into my GPS, but I freeze.
Shit.
My hand stays frozen in mid-air as the letters dance in my brain. Shit again.
"What’s wrong?" Rachel asks, concern filling her voice.
"I can’t remember the name of the place.
We call it Tom and Jerry’s, but that’s not it.
It’s something like that." I run my hand through my hair. I feel like I’m back in high school, trying to take the World History final, while names and dates swim through my head. I bang the steering wheel. "Fuck!"
Rachel puts a very gentle hand on my arm. "I’d tell you to calm down, but I know that helps about as much as tits on a bull. So let’s see what other ways we can figure this out. You could text your family," she suggests.
"Yeah, so they can laugh at me for not being able to remember the letters. I’m the one who called it Tom and Jerry’s in the first place. You know, like the cat and mouse cartoon? That’s how my brain processed it, and I can’t get it out of my head."
"Okay, so we won’t text them. We’ll figure out another way."
"It’s in Raynham. There can’t be too many ice cream places there." I pull up Google and type in, "ice cream Raynham, MA Tom," knowing for certain that Tom is in the name. There it is. Tom and Jimmy’s. Relief floods my body.
"Thanks for your help," I say as I shift the car into drive.
"You’re the one who figured it out. And listen, Tom and Jimmy’s is pretty damn close to Tom and Jerry’s.
Plus, I don’t think it’s a dyslexic thing.
Richie had a friend growing up whose name was Molly McKinney.
My grandfather continually referred to her as Molly McButter.
If I called him up right now and said that name, he’d automatically say McButter. Sometimes brains just do that."
"I don’t believe you. Call him right now." I totally believe her. I am curious to hear her interaction with her grandfather. I need to know more about her family. "And put it on speaker."
Rachel glares at me for all of three seconds before retrieving her phone from her back pocket. "Hey, Gramps, it’s Rachel."
"I know it’s you. What’s wrong?" His voice, dancing through the speaker of her phone, sounds gruff. This is a man you don’t want to cross.
"Nothing’s wrong. I, uh, I’m here with a, uh, friend, and I have a question for you."
"Who’s the friend?"
"TJ."
There’s a quick bark of laughter. "Oh, the young man who left the message on the emergency line."
My face fills with heat, thinking of how desperate I felt in that moment, needing to know Rachel was okay. I’d one-hundred percent do it again.
"Yeah, him. Okay, question for you. Do you remember Richie’s friend Molly—"
"McButter," he finishes before she can even get the question out.
She smirks at me. "That’s it. That was the entire question."
"Fine. Call your grandmother. You’ve got to get over this."
Quickly, Rachel disconnects. She doesn’t move, simply staring at the phone in her lap.
"You haven’t been talking to your grandmother?" I ask after a moment.
"I’m mad at her," she says quietly.
We’re almost to the ice cream shop, so I pull over to give us a little more time. "What are you mad at her for?"
Rachel remains staring at the phone in her lap.
Her hands are fidgeting with the case, pulling the corner off and then popping it back on.
"Okay, not mad as much as hurt by her. She kicked me out. She made me leave my home. She said I’d always have a home with her.
She told me that for my entire childhood, every time my mom dragged us out to live with her.
Every time my mom dropped us off because she was sick of being a parent.
Every single time, she told me I’d always have a home with her.
But then she made me leave when I needed home the most."
I’m quiet for a minute, trying to think about what to say. "If you called your grandmother right now and said you were stranded on the side of the road, what would she do?"
Without missing a beat, Rachel says, "Either hop in the car herself, or send Gramps or Uncle Robert to pick me up."
"If you had surgery and needed care, what would she do?"
The corners of Rachel’s mouth turn down. "She’d rent a hospital bed and convert her house into a skilled nursing facility."
I bet she knows that from experience. It was a stupid—no, it wasn’t the right question to ask. Or maybe it was.
"If you called her and said you were getting married, what would she do?"
"She’d start baking cookies for the bridal shower and start fussing about where she was going to find a dress and complain about how she can’t wear nice shoes anymore because her ankles are bad."
I press my luck and ask one more question. "If you were having a panic attack, what would she do?"
"She’d ask if I want a hug. She’d sit with me, talking in a low voice, trying to distract me with stories about the cats, giving me anything else to focus on. She’d drop everything to be with me."
"All of this, even though you don’t live there anymore?"
Rachel finally turns to look at me. "I’ve been a bitch to her, haven’t I?"
"I wouldn’t go that far, but you could probably call her tomorrow.
Couldn’t hurt, right?" As I’m saying this, I know I will need to call my mom tomorrow too.
I reach over the center console and pull Rachel into a hug.
For a moment, she rests her head on my shoulder.
If it weren’t for how horribly uncomfortable this is, I would stay like this forever.
"Thanks. I needed that," Rachel says, breaking away from the hug. One of these days, she won’t pull away so quickly. When she’s ready, I will be too.
I put the car into gear, knowing I’m going to catch hell for being so late. It doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is Rachel.