Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Parker is all smiles, this time high-fiving me with both hands. “Yep. You threw a spiral.” He gazes down at me with what I think is pride. It makes my heart take flight again.
On the way back to the house, Nathan makes a call to Philly, and Parker and I fall back once we hear the dutiful “Good morning, babe” and “I miss you.” Parker is still holding on to the football, absentmindedly passing it from hand to hand.
“Never thought I’d get the chance to do this with you again.”
“I’m not the best practice partner. Thanks for being patient.”
“Can I assume this means you’ve forgiven me?”
I lift my eyes from the pavement and look directly at him.
The wind whistles in my ears, but I’m listening to the calm in my heart instead.
For the first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel so heavy.
My mind had been a flurry after his apology yesterday, but now, only one thought remains: I’m happy to have you back.
“If you had been honest with me from the beginning, there wouldn’t be anything to forgive,” I say, truthfully. “But if it means anything, I’m not mad at you anymore.”
He retreats into silent rumination, and I peek over at his arms, the muscles flexing with the ball’s movement.
“How’s your shoulder?”
“Good as new,” he reassures me. “Since I stopped before the tendon could tear, I didn’t need surgery. Just a lot of physical therapy.”
“I’m glad,” I say, a smile in my voice. “Not that you asked for my opinion, but I don’t think you need to play football to still be in love with the game. I don’t think anything, or anyone, can ever take that away from you.”
I haven’t even made it up the porch steps before C? is giving her sons an earful for tracking mud through the front door. In silent resignation, the brothers disperse like trained show dogs—Nathan heads off to grab the Swiffer while Parker starts unloading groceries from the car in the driveway.
I head straight for the backyard, find the hose, and start rinsing off my sneakers. As I’m trying to balance on one leg, my phone hums in my pocket.
Marisa: If I eliminate every city where a serial killer was booked, I might run out of options.
Me: If crime is your main concern, have you considered moving to Iceland?
Marisa: I’ve always wanted to see the northern lights. It’d be a welcome distraction from all the time I spend wondering when Shay and I will be murdered.
It strikes me that in her hunt for the perfect home, Marisa will likely come full circle and realize that she and Shay belong in Brooklyn.
“Oh, good. You haven’t left yet.” C? pushes the gate open to enter the backyard, and a smile spreads across her face. “Tell me what you want for dessert. I’ll make it for your last night here.”
“Hmm.” I give it careful consideration. “Oh! How about sticky rice? I haven’t had it in ages.”
“X?i! You’re in luck! I bought pandan today.” She takes the hose from me once I finish with it, coiling it tightly. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Early. I’ll be out of the house by six,” I tell her.
When I see the frown marring her features, there’s a reflexive wrench in my chest—a feeling that’s been there all weekend. I should’ve visited more. I shouldn’t have taken her for granted.
Guilt dredges up thoughts I wish I hadn’t entertained: What if the next time I visit, C? and Chú aren’t here anymore? It doesn’t seem likely they’d move, but then again, I also thought Marisa would never call anywhere but New York home.
“C?, do you think you’ll stay in Silverpine forever?” I think back to the Zillow listings on Chú’s iPad.
“Hard to say,” she replies after a pause. “All you kids have left already. One day, Nathan will have a family. Parker will have a family. And then they’ll never come home. It’s the same with all my friends’ sons—they always go where their wife goes. Or maybe Parker will marry a girl from here.”
She winks at me and heat surges across my skin. “So, you would move to be closer to them?”
“Maybe. I want to be with my grandkids. I have to be their favorite grandma, you know?”
“No contest,” I laugh in spite of myself. “You’d be the best.”
“Dani, I know you’re busy. You have your big city life now.” C? cups my face in her hand, and I freeze, unfamiliar with this level of parental affection. “But you should come home more, con. We miss you.”
Emotion swells, and I have to clench my teeth to keep it from spilling over. In a rare moment of clarity, I realize: I don’t want to go back to New York.
I don’t follow C? through the back door, instead looping around to the front of the house to find their car already parked in the garage and out of sight.
It’s strange to see the driveway empty now, when the Jeep had once been a permanent fixture there.
I peer around, wondering when they’d replaced the old Toyota with the newer Toyota.
The hoop stand looms over the vacant concrete, its broken netting weathered by time.
It’s been years since Nathan and Parker last played one-on-one.
I used to wonder why they kept the hoop up after it sat untouched once Nathan moved to Philly.
But now, I find myself hoping they’ll never take it down.
I hope that every time I come home, that hoop will still be there, and the house behind it will stay unchanged.