Chapter 9 #2
“I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve, Ronnie.
I want you. I’m crazy about you and I don’t care about any of the other stuff you’re trying to throw up between us.
Come to the game as my guest and have some fun.
Both of you. Have dinner with me afterwards.
That’s all I’m asking. We can take the rest one step at a time. ”
“I… you’re such an unfair bastard,” she says, but the desire in those striking eyes and her hand on my cock take the edge off her assessment. “Okay. Fine.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, stripping my shirt off, “Nothing bad is going to happen by going to one football game. No one is going to hold it against you as long as you don’t hold it against yourself.”
She snorts and pushes at my pants and the time for talking is over.
The Christmas Eve game almost ends in a tie, but I have a chance with four seconds on the clock to win it.
The catch is that I have to kick a fifty-nine-yard field goal.
Which I’ve never done before. In spite of the clouds of cold air puffing from my mouth with each breath, I’m warm after pacing on the sidelines and kicking a few dozen balls into a net.
The ref’s whistle blows and the crowd buzzes.
“Get out there and win this thing,” coach says, whacking me on the shoulder as I trot by him, strapping on my helmet.
I nod, then I glance up at the crowd a dozen rows up at the fifty yard-line and I see them.
Ronnie and Jimmy standing and holding onto each other, watching me.
My whole family fills the row in front of her and they’re all madly yelling and screaming.
I feel like everything is on the line, as if how I handle the next few seconds will determine the outcome of so much more than this game, this moment representing how I handle my life.
Do I rise to the occasion, perform with cool passion and excellence in the biggest moments? Or do I shrink back from the test, crash and fail?
The thudding in my heart slows, my breathing steady and strong as I reach the spot on the field where I need to set up.
Nothing else but my concentration on the task at hand enters my mind.
Each step, each movement, each frame in my line of sight is crystal clear and defined.
Only the moment at hand, my body and each movement and decision plays out as the ball is snapped and placed.
Then I take my steps and with well-practiced perfect form, I kick the shit out of the football. Watching, breathing in and out normally, I don’t need to see the ball to go through the uprights, to see the ref’s arms go up, or hear the crowd’s cheering rise to a crescendo, to know the kick is good.
Sometimes I just know when a thing is right.
Like the thing I have with Ronnie and Jimmy and Dasher.
I turn back to the stands as my teammates crowd me and I trot to the sidelines, my joy-fueled adrenaline now kicking up, catching me up to the excitement of the moment as I reach the bench and glance into the stands.
Catching Ronnie’s eyes, I throw a kiss to her as if I’m a love-sick fool. Because maybe I am.
My family? Ronnie didn’t want to meet them, so I have her wait outside in the tunnel while I meet my family in the friends and family lounge.
“Where’s the girl?” Dad says.
“Not tonight,” I say. “We’re going for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You want us to go back to the hotel and eat dinner without you?”
“You’ll live. Christmas dinner is at my house tomorrow.”
All my family is disgruntled, my sister and her new boyfriend and my two brothers and their wives all express their opinions about not meeting the girl I’m having dinner with, but my mom comes through and backs me up.
“Leave him alone,” she says. “He’s not ready to introduce his special girl to his family. He’s new at this.”
I don’t correct her that it’s not me who’s not ready because it’s too much to explain. I barely understand the problem myself. But I respect Ronnie’s line in the sand.
“I’ll be over later to start dinner prep,” Mom says. I toss her an extra key.
“Don’t come by before eight.” She laughs and winks.
After I shower in record time, and take Ronnie and Jimmy back to my house and I order dinner in from Louie’s.
A light snow falls as dinner arrives. Christmas eve hasn’t felt this special in a lot of years with Jimmy and Dasher playing and Ronnie sipping a glass of wine.
I bring the food to the table and whistle, spoiling the Norman Rockwell-ish tableau because it has me anticipating too much.
We sit to eat and I watch them, their enjoyment more important than my empty stomach right now.
“This is delicious. As good as homemade,” she says.
Jimmy nods and is about to talk, but Ronnie silences him with a reminder that he has a full mouth.
She smiles at him and touches his cheek with affection, making him grin.
Making my heart do funny things, a new dance move I’m going to call the Ronnie heart stutter.
What has my nerves on edge is the gift I have for her and Jimmy all in one big box, but after dinner when it comes time, I give her the gift.
“Thank you, Sean.”
“Oh boy. It’s is so big. Can I open it now, Mommy?”
“No. We’ll open it tomorrow, on Christmas morning. Only one more sleep to wait.” She ruffles his head and I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s accepted the gift gracefully.
“I have a gift for you too,” she says and goes to the mudroom to retrieve it.
When she brings it back into the kitchen I’m surprised. “What’s this? How did you sneak this gift in here?”
“I cheated—Garino helped me out while we were at the game.”
She gives me her gift – a cake wrapped up in a container that looks like it’s made especially for carrying cakes with a handle.
“It’s beautiful.” I take the top off and feast my eyes on every detail. She beams at me.
“It’s for desert after your Christmas dinner with your family. What do you think of the cake carrier?”
I laugh. “That what you call it? It’s pretty nifty.” She must have splurged on it and I’m touched at how much trouble and expense she went to in order to make this cake and present it to me.
“Let me take the cake out of the carrier so you can take it back and re-use it,” I say.
“No. It’s part of the gift.” Furrows of distress crease her brow.
“What the hell am I going to do with a cake carrier?”
Her face clears with a half-smile. “You have a point.”
I remove the cake from the carrier and put it on a plate on the counter. It’s decorated beautifully in red and green on white. It’s three layers high and big enough to feed twelve. She puts toothpicks all over it and then covers it in plastic wrap.
“That should hold it until tomorrow,” she says, looking as giddy as I feel.
“It looks fucking delicious. Irresistible.” Like you. I can’t say it out loud. She’s too skittish to tell her half of how I feel. Instead, I tease her. “I don’t know how you’re not big as a house making cakes all the time.”
She gives me a playful swat and a grin, those gorgeous sapphire eyes, twinkling. “I have more self-control than a six-year-old.”
“Are you saying I don’t?” I lose whatever self-control I have and wrap her in my arms. She doesn’t resist and I nibble her ear. She giggles and then darting a glance toward the living room where Jimmy sits on the floor with Dasher, she pushes me away.
“If the shoe fits, Mr. Incorrigible.”
“Fancy word.”
“I hope your family won’t mind cake for desert.” An undertone of uncertainty, real and anxious, colors her voice.
“You kidding? They’ll love it. It’s gorgeous. Looks like you put in a lot of work, seriously. How did you make it? I thought you said your old mixer broke?”
“I whisked it by hand. Piece of cake,” she grins, “Pun intended.”
“Look, you know I want you to, come over and have Christmas dinner with my family.” I’m pushing when I know I shouldn’t, but the picture of her with me and Jimmy opening gifts under my tree is too tantalizing not to go for the prize.
“I can’t, Sean. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. Jimmy and I are spending the day at home. We have a tree and we’ll have our own family dinner.”
“I get it.” I hide the bulk of my disappointment because I know I’m being unrealistic.
Her skittishness about our relationship isn’t going to disappear overnight.
I lower my voice. “Then at least let’s spend the night together.
So I can have my Christmas wish—being with you and Jimmy on Christmas morning. ” I nuzzle her hair.
“No. I told you, Jimmy and I have our own Christmas morning ritual and our own under the tree. I brought your gift here.” She looks away from me, but her words are like a pinprick in my dream bubble, so I back off.
“In fact, it’s getting late,” she says. “We need to go home. Now.” When she looks at me, her face is closed and guarded better than Fort Knox.
I drive her and Jimmy home and it’s hard to keep up my side of the joyful banter Jimmy deserves, but he’s so full of anticipation about Santa coming that he doesn’t notice.
I come inside, mostly because Jimmy insists I need to see their tree. He’s not sleepy when she puts him to bed, but she whispers anyway when she comes back from his bedroom.
“It’s important for Jimmy to wake up to Santa’s gifts under our tree. I don’t want him finding you here in the morning. He’ll assume things between us that aren’t true.”
“I understand,” I admit. “I just wish I could see his face and all that joy in the morning.” Smiling, I nod, because I can imagine it and even that brings a lift in my spirits. Everything about this woman and her son makes me feel good.
Except the fact that I need to leave, but I do. Driving home I feel more peaceful and hopeful than sad or disappointed because somehow I have more patience than I never knew I had. Or maybe it’s something deeper than patience and more than confidence.
Maybe it’s that I’ve totally fallen for her and Jimmy and instead of scaring me, it’s feels like the best Christmas gift I could ever have imagined.
The trepidation about what if she doesn’t come around doesn’t hit me until I walk into my kitchen and find mom and my sister already in Christmas dinner prep mode and Christmas music warring with the sounds of a game on the family room TV where my dad and youngest brother are lounging.
“Guess you didn’t want to do Christmas dinner prep alone,” I say.
“Sean, come here and give your mother a big hug. It’s so good to s be here with you for Christmas.” She doesn’t wait for me to get my coat off or go to her, but comes to me and throws her arms around me.
Mom’s not a small woman and her hugs are famous around half of Texas, or so it seems.
“You okay, honey?” she says as she lets me go.
“Of course.” I lie my ass off and try to smile to make up for it.
“Is it the girl and her little boy? They’re not coming to dinner are they?”
I shake my head. I probably shouldn’t have told mom I invited Ronnie and Jimmy, but if I didn’t it would have been super awkward if they showed up.
“I’m disappointed, but it’s okay.” It’s a half lie, but I’m working to live up to my positive thinking.
“Disappointed? Or more?” she says.
Mom holds onto my arms and doesn’t let me go, staring me down and I know she’s prepared to wait me out until I give her the answer she recognizes as truth.
“I… maybe…” I wipe a hand over my face because I don’t know what the fuck to say.
“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” Mom looks serious and maybe a little happy.
“Her son Jimmy too,” I admit. “Don’t look so pleased about it. It could be a dead end because she’s…” I don’t know how to describe what she is. “Confused. Hesitant. Definitely not on the same page as I am.”
“Come and sit, Sean. Tell me what’s making her hesitant. I know it’s not about you. What’s bothering her?”
I tell mom about Ronnie’s background. “She has a need to be independent. She doesn’t trust men and doesn’t want to count on them. To say she’s wary is a ridiculous understatement.”
“I see. But there’s a spark between you that has her confused, maybe rethinking things?”
I shrug. “Sort of.”
“Then it’s simple, honey. You’ll have to break down her guard.”
I snort. “Easy to say—until she sends me packing because she—“
“Sean, you can’t make a cake without breaking a few eggs.”
“Funny thing you should say that. She bakes cakes.” I point to the beautiful cake waiting on the counter that she made for our dinner.”
Mom nods in approval.
“I’m your mother, Sean, and I love you more than life, so the last thing I want to see is your heart broken. But I also know,” she sighs deep and I wait for it, “you are brave enough to go for it and strong enough to withstand whatever happens.”
I nod. No sugar-coating. Maybe that’s how I got so brave and strong. My parents didn’t protect me from the harshness of life, but they supported me with love and the solidness of always being there, always having my back.
Something Ronnie doesn’t have and hasn’t had for a very long time. Something she’s forgotten is possible or it got buried deep under the relentless harshness of having no one who loves her for so long.
Am I ready to change that? Am I ready to love her and be there, no holds barred?
“Balls in your hands,” Mom says. “Only this game is bigger than the superbowl and everything is on the line with about a hundred yard field goal kick into the wind, for the win.”
“Gee thanks, mom. No pressure.”
She laughs. “Of course there’s pressure, but you thrive on pressure, Sean, better than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Thank you, mom.” She’s right. “Go big or go home.”
My heart beats way too fast to settle down, to do anything but pace around and interfere in the cooking as I try to tell myself it’ll be fine.
I’ll call Ronnie tomorrow and everything will be different.
She’ll have opened my gift.