Chapter Twenty-Four Nathan
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nathan
And once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward; for there you have been, and there you would return.
—FREDRIC MARCH AS LEONARDO DA VINCI, SAGA OF WESTERN MAN
Someone needs to clip Angel’s wings. After I admitted my feelings for Claire to her on our date, she’s been purposely throwing us together. All while she claims to despise cheaters as much as I do.
The problem with the temptation to steal a girlfriend from a guy I don’t believe deserves her is that it doesn’t feel wrong. In fact, it feels pretty right. And Angel’s not helping.
Apart from all that, I am glad she brought Claire to church with her. I hadn’t invited Claire for my own selfish reasons. Like not wanting to sit across from her at lunch afterward and endure her playful kicks and soulful glances, all while knowing I shouldn’t reciprocate.
But then to have her called out for work in the middle of our meal and be the most plausible candidate for driving her back to her crash pad so she’s not late for her shift. That’s what happens when you’re the single guy who lives across the street.
It isn’t that I didn’t want to be alone with Claire. It’s that I did. More than anything. Even if she’s just grilling me about why I won’t keep dating her roommate.
I don’t tell Angel’s divorce story. That’s hers to tell. I just say Angel doesn’t want to ever get married, at which point Claire drops it.
But my feelings for Claire have been eating away at me so much that it’s not until I meet Vincent at a Seahawks game that I remember this is my first game since I proposed to Joey on the Jumbotron.
Not until we climb to our seats in the nosebleed section and turn to face the giant screen framed by our downtown skyline does the memory hit.
“Huh.” I expected my stomach to clench or pain to zing through my chest like a heart attack. Nothing.
“Huh?” Vincent challenges. “I know I used to have better seats, but I’m paying for a wedding this year, man. I give you a Seahawks ticket on your Thursday off, the roof is open because it’s not raining for once, we’ve got a sunset view of the Seattle skyline, and all you can say is ‘huh’?”
I sip my fizzy soda, breathe in the beefy scent of hot dogs, take in the peaks of skyscrapers beyond the field, listen to the hum of excited fans, and fight to keep a straight face as I repeat, “Huh.” A smile cracks, so I explain.
“This is my first time here since I proposed to Joey, and it doesn’t sting the way I expected. ”
“Oh man.” Vincent slaps me on the back. “I wasn’t going to mention it because I was afraid I’d scare you away, but that’s fabulous. What a great place to be emotionally.”
I nod and settle into my cold bench seat, wondering if any season ticket holders are nearby who might recognize me from the proposal aired to the thirty-seven thousand fans in attendance last year. If anyone asks where my bride is, I’ll simply answer, “It didn’t work out.”
Before today I’d always make sure to let people know Joey had cheated. And I was always afraid they were secretly thinking something like, “I don’t blame her.”
The fans around us start booing, as if they understand how I feel, but they’re just reacting to the opposing team taking the field. Naturally, we’re playing the 49ers, whose quarterback had hit on Claire.
“There’s Claire’s boyfriend—Andrew James.”
Vincent stands, as if that position will help him boo louder.
I join him. “Boooo . . .” If only we could boo her real boyfriend this way.
Finally the noise calms and we return to our seats. “Claire knows you’re over Joey?”
“Yeah.” Not that it matters now, because she’s still in love with someone else. “She set me up with Angel, and I invited Angel to church.”
Vincent nods, though he’s watching the pregame show. A reporter is interviewing the owner of our team’s falcon on the Jumbotron. A giant bird with a white belly, grayish wings, and a yellow beak perches on the man’s arm as he answers questions over a blaring sound system.
“There’s no such species as a sea hawk, but Taima here looks like an osprey, which are birds who feed from the sea. Once the team is ready, he’ll lead them out onto the field.”
I’m ready for the moment. Fireworks will explode, flags will fly, and this bird will soar out of the tunnel to a surprisingly mellow yet epic nineties alternative song. Why? Because Seattle marches to the beat of our own drum.
“Tell me a little bit about this type of bird.” The reporter hunts for questions that will entertain a rabid audience of football fanatics. “What’s unique about them?”
The owner answers proudly, as if anyone were listening.
Well, anyone besides me. “Ospreys mate for life. The male catches a fish, flies an ornate pattern to attract the female’s attention, then takes the fish to a spot where, once she accepts his offering, they’ll build a nest together.
Year after year they’ll return to find each other for mating season. ”
Okay, my heart wasn’t hurting.
Vincent waves an arm toward the giant screen. “What does a bird’s mating ritual have to do with football?”
“Taima has a better love life than I do.” I grunt to make light of my sad joke.
Vincent gives me the eye. “Are we doing this again?”
“Sorry.” I sip through my straw.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Vincent twists to face me. “Our conversation with Pastor Liam last Sunday got me thinking. Did Joey ever confess to cheating on you?”
“No . . .” I hold up a hand to keep him from a false start. “But I saw her with the guy at the airport last week. There’s definitely something going on now.”
Vincent shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean there was before. Why did you accuse her of cheating?”
I throw my free hand in the air. As if I would invent her betrayal to destroy our relationship. “After I was based in Seattle, her calls and messages came less and less frequently.”
Vincent shrugs. “She could have been busy with work, the way you were.”
Yeah, she’d taken on more responsibility at her social services job, but . . . “She was spending an awful lot of time with her supervisor. More time than she spent with me.”
“You mean in the same way Claire has been spending more time with you than with her own boyfriend?”
“Clearly I’m in the friend zone with Claire.”
“Clearly.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t want to admit the worst part, but if that’s what it takes to convince Vincent . . . “Joey was happy. Happier than she’d been before I moved. There had to be a reason for that—other than her job, as she’d claimed.”
“You don’t think she could have been finding purpose in her new career? She was fulfilled in a new way, and you got threatened?”
Ha. If only. “Dad said that’s exactly what happened to Mom before she left us. She found happiness with another man.”
Vincent turns back toward the Jumbotron. “Huh.”
Except his “huh” means a lot more than my “huh” had. His “huh” means that maybe I’m doing exactly what Claire did when she ran from Pastor Liam. Because of her past experience, she feared he was going to hurt her. Then she hurt herself worse.
I don’t want to think about it. I really don’t want to consider the possibility that my jealousy is what could have ended our engagement. Like Romeo taking poison when he’d thought Juliet was dead. So I won’t continue this train of thought. I won’t ask the tough question.
“If you hadn’t been hurt when your mom left your dad, would you have broken up with Joey?” Vincent asks it for me.
And my heart breaks all over again. For the loss of my mother. For the loss of my father’s attention. For the loss of my dream of a family—a dream that Vincent’s suggesting I may have self-sabotaged. “I’m glad I learned through my dad’s failed marriage so I didn’t make the same mistake.”
“Loving someone is never a mistake. Even if it hurts.”
Fireworks explode, flags fly, and a monogamous falcon soars onto the field to the sound of an epic nineties alternative song. A bittersweet symphony.