38. Winona
Winona
It's not whether you get knocked down;
it's whether you get up.
~ Vince Lombardi
“So,” Cass says over breakfast Friday. “I have tickets to the playoff game this weekend.”
“The Thunder?” I ask. “How on earth did you manage to get tickets?”
“That’s not the point.”
I cross my arms. “Cass. Those tickets are hundreds of dollars each.”
She glances over at me with a sheepish expression on her face. “We’re in lower bowl sideline seats.”
“What?” Those tickets had to be at least eight hundred each. “Cass.”
I study her face. She didn’t spend sixteen hundred dollars to get us into a game—especially not when Declan is on her You’re lucky I’m not hunting you down and teaching you a lesson list.
She pivots off her stool and grabs the frying pan from the stove, busying herself cleaning it.
“There’s a charity thing,” she says. “The Thunder is sponsoring a fundraiser for needy youth in the surrounding areas outside Waterford. Hearthstone is a smaller sponsor. There’s a clothing and toy drive and the Thunder is giving a big donation to local agencies that support after-school programs.”
“So your company gave you nearly two thousand dollars’ worth of tickets? Our local real estate office gives out two thousand dollar bonuses for funsies now?”
“I work hard. They love my work.”
“Mm hmm.”
“They do.”
“Oh, I know they love your work. I just smell fish. If it smells like a fish … it’s fishy. And this has more fishiness than the Cumberland in spring. So. much. fish.”
I stare Cass down, but her back is still to me, so she can’t feel my scrutiny and I can’t get a read on her.
Could one of the Thunder who came to Thanksgiving have given Cass tickets?
That would be odd. I know it wasn’t Hearthstone.
They do love my sister. She basically keeps that office functioning.
But they’re not handing out playoff tickets for free.
“Well, the point is …” Cass says, turning and grabbing the dish towel to dry her hands, “... we have tickets.”
“You have tickets. And I hope you find someone to go with you. I bet Dad would pee himself if you offered him that extra seat.”
“Win!”
“What … I’m just saying.” I smile. “Take Dad. And maybe … some Depends.”
Cass laughs lightly. Then she walks toward me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “I’m taking you.”
“Um. No. Thank you. Really. But, no.” I look up at my sister, my eyes imploring her. “I’m doing better. I am.”
Though I’ll never be my old self again.
A piece of me still lives in Declan’s heart, and I miss that piece every day. And him.
A tear tracks down my cheek.
Cass pulls me into a hug. I let out a sigh. “When will I stop leaking?”
She cups my face. “Do you trust me?”
“Not when you’re doing that.” I point to her face and make a circling motion with my pointer finger. “You’re up to something.”
“Do you trust me? Don’t I always have your back?”
“You have my back. Always. More than anyone else on earth.”
“Then come to the game with me. I’ll be right there. And Daisy will be on the other side of you. Patrick’s bringing her.”
“And they just happen to have seats next to ours? Fishy.”
“It’s a miracle, I know. Maybe it’s a sign that you’re meant to go.”
I look at her sideways. But then, I relent. I may be hurting, but I really would love to see Declan play in the playoffs. Even if my heart breaks a little more watching him and knowing I’ll never be his. And I want to see Delaney … Pierce … Linc … all the guys. I miss them too.
“I might need pastries on reserve for the days following the game. And ice cream.”
“You get all the sweets!” She does a little shimmy. “Oh! Yay!” She points her finger at me. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I want to see Declan play,” I admit. “Even if it kills me.”
“I don’t think it will kill you. If I thought that, I wouldn’t be asking you to come. I really would ask Dad.”
“He really might spring a leak if you did.”
“I know. One day … We can take him another time.”
“We. You’re being optimistic here. This might be the only time I can stomach watching Declan play in person.”
“Just give me this one time.”
“Okay.”
I barely sleep that night, tossing and turning.
Thoughts of Declan and the upcoming game overwhelm me.
I’m eager to see him play. But every time I think of sitting in the stands, I remember the harsh way I was treated at the last home game, and then my thoughts slide down the slippery slope to replay our breakup.
Seeing Declan will be a painful reminder he’s not mine anymore.
He won’t know I’m there.
Should I tell him I’m coming?
No. He doesn’t need the distraction.
The Thunder is playing Green Bay.
Green Bay reminds me of the chocolates and cheese curds Declan brought back for me. A montage of images floats through my sleep-resistant mind like a movie in slow motion.
By Sunday morning, I’ve had two full days of Winona for Hire and two restless nights.
I sleep in to make up for my exhaustion.
When I wake, Cass is already up, wearing her Thunder jersey. Her brown hair is braided with orange, white and blue ribbons interspersed in the braids.
I’m about to tell her she looks adorable when she shouts, “Eat and shower! Patrick, Daisy, Emberleigh and Syd will be here in a half hour.”
“Emberleigh and Syd?” I rub my eyes, heading straight for the coffeepot. “How did they get tickets?”
“No more questions. Just get ready.”
I stop in the middle of the kitchen. “Cass. Tickets. How on earth did Syd and Emberleigh get tickets at that price? And, let me guess, they’re sitting with us.”
“No. More. Questions.” She walks to the refrigerator. “Here,” she says, pulling out the flavored creamer. “Do you want eggs? Oatmeal? Breakfast burrito?”
I want answers, but those obviously are not on this morning’s menu.
“Just coffee. I’ll get food at the stadium.”
“The staaaaadiuuum!” Cass practically sings. “We’re going to a playoff game! THE playoff game!”
“If you ever decide office management isn’t your thing, you could try out to be a Thunderette.”
“I would break my neck as a Thunderette.”
“But you’d bring the spirit before you ended up in traction.”
She laughs. “Okay. Drink up. Let’s go.”
I give her a half-hearted salute and drink my coffee.
Once I’m showered, I stand in my room, staring into my closet. The jersey with Declan’s name on it stares back at me. I scan my other shirts and land back on the jersey.
I never would have even wanted to go to this playoff if it weren’t for Declan.
He’s the reason I love football—the reason the Thunder are my team.
I blow out a breath and with a definitive bob of my head I grab the jersey and slip it on, pulling on jeans and tying a knot at the waist of the shirt.
I grab my Converse and head downstairs to voices in the living room.
“Winona!” Emberleigh shouts when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
“You look beautiful,” Syd says.
Okay, so. Yes. I did put on makeup—a little more than usual. I want to look my best. I’m sure Declan won’t see me, but just in case …
“Thanks,” I say, sitting on the bottom step and slipping on my tennis shoes.
“Ready?” Cass asks, clapping her hands once.
“How did you two get tickets anyway?” I ask Emberleigh.
She smiles and says, “Syd and I brought you chocolate croissants.”
Then she turns and picks up her purse and Syd hurries toward the door shouting, “I call shotgun!”
If it’s got gills and blows bubbles … it’s fishy, fishy, fishy.
“I give up,” I say, throwing my hands in the air and grabbing my coat off the hooks near the front door.
Cass drives the two of us, and our four friends follow behind.
I don’t even bother to ask any more questions about how everyone managed to get into a playoff game.
As the winter landscape passes by outside the car window, I tell myself to let go and enjoy the moment—it’s something I used to do without thought.
These days I need to put a little extra effort into staying present.
“We’re going to the playoffs!” I shout, a little louder than I intended.
Cass smiles. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“He still loves you.”
“How would you know?”
She pauses for a beat and then she says, “He told you he did. He didn’t break up out of anger or the hundreds of other reasons men break up with women. He broke up with you to protect you.”
“So, now you’re Team Declan?”
“I’m Team Winona ‘til I die,” she says.
“Well, I’m still Team Declan. It might hurt less if I weren’t.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been hurting.”
“No one gets through life without hurting.”
“True. I still wish you didn’t have to suffer.”
“What doesn’t kill me will make me stronger, right?”
“Eventually. In the meantime, you’re allowed to feel all the feelings and let it be messy.”
“Thanks. Having you walk alongside me these past few weeks has made all the difference.”
We pull in and pay for parking. The lot is already packed with cars and SUVs even though it’s eleven thirty in the morning and the game doesn’t start ‘til two.
People are everywhere having tailgate gatherings.
Behind trucks, groups stand under pop-up canopies.
Others gather around propane heaters and portable fire pits to stay warm.
We pass a family with music blaring and corn hole set out behind three cars in a row. They’re in a section of Packers fans. Green and yellow banners, jerseys, and even a few cheeseheads distinguish this area from the rest of the parking lot where everything is a sea of navy, orange and white.
Kids are bundled in jerseys over their hoodies, gloves and mittens. When we park, the boy in the van next to us hops out. He’s wearing a jersey that says O’Connell on the back. I choke back the urge to cry.
“You okay?” Cass asks.
I just point to the boy. “I don’t know why that got to me.”
She thins her lips as if she has something to say but is restraining herself.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Let’s just enjoy the day.”
“Yes,” I agree. “No tears. Let’s have a great day.”