CHAPTER 11 #2
“I know, Pops,” Antonio said. Whether or not the kid’s last name mattered, he got the point. This wasn’t the first time his father had said those very words. “I messed up.”
“You still have time to make it right, Ant, baby,” Annette said. She was always the optimistic one. Someone had to be. Horace was a little too real sometimes.
“He’s a grown man, Mama. I’m meeting him where he’s at, where he’s comfortable. Right now, he just wants to be friends. We aren’t at that father-son level. Never have been. I don’t know if we will be.”
“Well, that’s just the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Horace huffed. “No offense, Ant, but you too soft. You trying to be one of these new-age parents. Now, I don’t mean come at the boy in a mean way. But…just assert yourself as a father.”
Antonio squinted at the screen. “Old man, what does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Horace shrugged. “Fatherhood is on-the-job training. How you gonna get training if you ain’t doing your job? You can a be a friend, too, but not too friendly. You’re also the boy’s father. It’s a balancing act.”
“Now, that I agree with,” his mother said. She’d gotten up and was flitting across the screen in the background.
Oh boy, now they were tag-teaming him. “Don’t you all have a safari to get to?”
Annette practically pushed Horace out of the way. “We’re leaving, yes. But can’t we check on our only child? And our only grandchild? We just…” His mother let out a sigh. “Life is short, my sweet boy. Don’t waste time worrying about what you did in the past. Fix what you can right now. Okay?”
Antonio could hear the sadness in his mother’s voice. “Okay, Mama. I know. And I promise, I’ll get PJ to reach out to you all.”
Annette gave him a wide smile. “I’d like that, sweetie. We’d love to go to one his games. If he’s okay with that.”
“Courtside,” yelled Horace, now packing a bag in the background. “Or at least a box. Don’t be cheap now!”
Antonio shook his head. “Of course not. Nothing but the best for you.”
Horace rejoined his wife. He was already donning a wide-brimmed hat. “Well, we gotta go, son. I promised your mama a giraffe, and I need to make good on it.”
“Bye. Love you.”
His father waved, and his mother blew a kiss before ending the call.
Antonio picked up the remaining chicken piccata but frowned as he stared at the cold sheen of oil on top.
He’d lost his appetite. His father made him feel like a failure.
Antonio knew Horace’s concern was out of love, but he hated the feeling of inadequacy that came up every time they had a conversation about PJ.
He wanted to do better, but he didn’t know how.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through Instagram.
He came across PJ’s stories—doing shoot-arounds at practice, draining threes as if it were nothing.
He was on a long, West-Coast away game stretch and probably wouldn’t be home for a few weeks.
Antonio couldn’t lie. He missed the kid. So, he decided to text him.
ANT: Hey. Just seeing how things are going?
PJ: It’s cool. Put up 40 tonight. Why? You need something?
Antonio frowned. Damn, can’t I just text you? Then again, Antonio did need something from PJ.
ANT: Actually, I do. Do you have Jackie’s cell number?
PJ: You don’t have her number already?
Antonio huffed in annoyance. Hadn’t he told PJ why he didn’t have her number? He simply didn’t want to be a creep and get it from the agency. He didn’t need folks like Donny DiMaggio asking questions.
ANT: You gonna give it to me or not?
PJ: Why? What you trying to do?
ANT: I wanted to check on her dog, PeeWee. He had to have surgery.
PJ: Word? He ok? Damn, she loves that dog.
PJ texted Antonio Jackie’s number. Sure enough, it was definitely a different number.
ANT: Thx.
PJ: Don’t be OD Aiight? Have a little rizz.
Antonio laughed. Did PJ know who he was?
Antonio knew how to talk to women. At least, he used to.
He hadn’t been on a date in a few months.
He’d kind of lost interest in the whole thing.
More than once, he’d gotten bored halfway through a date and made up an excuse to leave.
But he knew how to talk to Jackie, specifically.
ANT: I won’t embarrass you.
PJ: Glad you told me about PeeWee. I’ll send Jackie some flowers.
Antonio blinked. Flowers? Why hadn’t he thought of that? At least his twenty-two-year-old son had some forethought and manners. Well, damn.
ANT: Cool. And can you call your grandparents? My parents. They’d love to hear from you.
Antonio watched as the bubbles appeared, disappeared, then reappeared until PJ finally responded.
PJ: Aiight. Later.
Antonio shrugged. At least he had asked. He scrolled back through the messages and found Jackie’s number.
ANTONIO: Hey Jackie. It’s Ant. Just checking on you and PeeWee. Hope he’s ok.
JACKIE: He’s still in the hospital but should be ok.
ANTONIO: Cool. Let me know if you need anything.
Antonio waited a few minutes.
JACKIE: K.
K? That was it? That was all she had to say? After all the stuff that had happened today? Even after he’d held her as she cried?
Antonio tossed his phone on the sofa and groaned.
Maybe he didn’t have rizz after all.