Chapter 16
The Woodsmen were playing and I didn’t even care. Seriously. I stared at the game and it didn’t make one rat’s ass bit of difference to me—and I had never felt like this before. I was a fan, wasn’t I? Apparently, not anymore. The preseason was over and this was opening night. And I didn’t care.
On the other hand, the rest of my family (minus Max) was entranced.
We always turned off the sound on the TV so that we could listen to the Woodsmen radio announcers, Herb and Buzz, but my dad liked to talk over them, to read aloud the statistics on the screen, and to voice his own opinions about the plays being called.
It was often hard to hear the professionals and it had always driven me crazy—but tonight, I didn’t even care.
I didn’t care about the score, I didn’t care about the stats, I didn’t care about the players and their personal stories, I didn’t care about my dad’s opinion on the problems with special teams, I didn’t care about the anecdotes from fifty years ago that Herb and Buzz were relating.
I only sat up and paid attention when the camera switched to showing the coaches high up in their booth, which it had done once or twice.
That was where Shane was sitting tonight and unlike me, his focus was totally on the game.
Every time I saw him, which was only for a few seconds before they flipped to another angle, I felt myself tense and lean forward.
And when my sister spotted me doing that, she got upset then shook her head. At halftime, she addressed my behavior in the kitchen.
“You have to pull it together. Spinnst du? Mom is going to notice how you’re acting and this will become a big deal.” She shook her head again. “I thought you were getting better.”
“Stop speaking German!” I barked back. She and Daniel were officially a thing, although they had still never met in person.
That was going to change this fall when he flew here to visit, and she was getting her passport so that she could go visit him, too.
She was doing much better with her love life than I was but fortunately, I hadn’t lost my friend-life.
Yes, I’d rushed out of Shane’s house, crying, but we hadn’t even started to unload my stuff when Morgan had frowned at me.
“So, you’re running away again?” she had wanted to know.
“That’s very immature,” my brother had thrown in and she’d pointed at him, nodding.
“You guys are ganging up on me? You’re in agreement with each other against me?” I’d asked.
“I guess we are,” Morgan had said. I’d decided that I must have been acting pretty bad if the two of them were calling me out, and that was why I had texted Shane. I let him know that I had decided to move, in order to give him more space and to stop smothering him.
“I’m sorry I did that. I was trying to help but I understand that you don’t want or need it from me. Talk to you soon,” I’d concluded. Those last words were more hopeful than perfunctory. I really did want to talk but understood that he might not.
He had reached out almost immediately. “I’m sorry,” he’d said when I’d answered his call. “No, don’t tell me that I don’t need to be. I wasn’t trying to force you to leave. I didn’t want that at all.”
“I think it’s for the best,” I had let him know.
I was lying through my teeth: the best thing would have been for us to stay together, living in the duplex.
No, the best thing would have been for him to realize that he did need help, he needed a plan for the future, and he needed me.
But I didn’t want to be just a fun friend or a responsible roommate.
The very best, most perfect thing would have been for him to accept all the love I could have given him.
As we’d unloaded my clothes, my sister had also mentioned that. “You’re crying because you’re in love with him, Molly.”
“It’s obvious,” Max had agreed and she’d pointed at him again.
“You guys need to give this buddy-buddy thing a rest!” I had ordered.
I hadn’t admitted that what they were saying was true.
I had liked Shane a lot, a whole lot. Then I had fallen hard for him, so I’d settled in to stay.
I had tried to adjust his life and I had refused to accept a job that would have led me away.
That had been a huge mistake. I had actually contacted the company in Arizona again but they hadn’t bothered to respond, and why would they have?
Once you burned a bridge, it wasn’t always possible to rebuild it.
Like, if Shane suddenly appeared at the front door, saying that he had made a huge mistake and he wanted me to come back, not to live in the little room as his roommate but to be his girlfriend because he wanted to spend his life with me?
I would have said no. For sure, I would have said no…I glanced at the front door. But the Woodsmen were playing in Virginia tonight, anyway.
He had gotten us tickets for two of the home preseason games.
Morgan and I had gone together to one, and I’d let my parents go to the other.
It had been fun but we hadn’t been able to see the coaches up in their box and I hadn’t seen any of those coaches after the game, either.
I had thought about asking him to get together but I had managed to stop myself.
It was hard enough to watch him on the screen for brief flashes.
It would have been impossible to be with him and not do something dumb, like announcing that yes, I did love him.
I had almost texted it about thirty times and had finally given my phone to my sister for a few days, just to stop myself.
And while I had been going through all that, he hadn’t been making any overtures to me.
As the second half was getting ready to start, my mom must have noticed my bad attitude (surly, basically miserable, but not wearing a steel chain around my neck as I had when I was thirteen—it was very heavy and scratchy).
She frowned as she looked at me, just like she used to do.
“What’s the matter now, Molly?” she sighed.
“Nothing!” I told her, suddenly annoyed.
Everything! I was back in the place where I had started but everyone else was moving on.
Morgan had signed up to take a class at the college this fall, and she was paying for it out of the money she was rightfully earning as she worked at Walter’s.
My brother had turned into a responsible business owner.
Avonlea was doing less and less as he did more and more, fully in charge now.
My dad had even acknowledged it and was being respectful (in his way).
My mom had given up on trying to make everyone wear the dumb hats and was singing happy songs in the shower every morning.
The only one who hadn’t changed very much was me.
I was still working jobs that I didn’t like, I was back living at home in the room I had wanted to leave forever.
I was still alone. I was happy for them, though—I really was.
There was just one little fact that kept niggling: I hadn’t helped any of them.
None of their positive changes were due to anything that I had done.
I hadn’t saved the restaurant. I hadn’t helped my sister’s mental health.
I hadn’t forced my brother into responsibility.
I hadn’t forced my father into niceness, either (as nice as he could get).
As hard as I had worked and as much as I had lectured, I’d accomplished next to nothing with them.
I wasn’t responsible for their improved circumstances and I hadn’t improved mine, either.
“Molly,” my mom sighed again.
“What? Why the hell do you say my name like that?” I snapped back.
The Woodsmen were lining up to kick off but she and my sister turned to stare at me instead of the TV.
“You’re always doing that to me. Molly,” I repeated, dragging out my name sadly.
“What did I do wrong? I’ve been trying so hard, for years! ”
Mom’s eyes were wide and her mouth had dropped open. “I know that,” she said. “I can see you trying and struggling.”
“If it makes you feel better, she says my name the same way. Morgan,” my sister sighed sadly.
“I know how sad you girls are,” our mother told us. “I can tell, and I don’t want you feel that way. Maybe that’s why I sound disappointed. I’m disappointed that we didn’t give you a better life with more opportunities for happiness.”
“Somebody grab me a beer,” Dad ordered us. He turned up the volume so the voices of Herb and Buzz, the announcer and color commentator, resounded through the living room.
Nobody moved toward the kitchen. “I’m doing pretty well,” Morgan said, raising her own voice above the radio. “I’m creating opportunities for happiness.”
“I’m also going to do that,” I said. “You should too, Mom.”
We all looked at Dad.
“I’m considering my options,” she told us. “Right now, Walter’s needs a cook and I don’t want to disrupt the success there.”
“What did you say about a cook? Molly, march your worthless ass to the kitchen and get me a beer!” he bellowed.
“No,” I told him. I reached over and turned up the volume even higher.
The Woodsmen came out on top, but I didn’t get the sense of proud euphoria that I usually felt after a win.
I lay in bed for hours after Herb and Buzz’s postgame radio show and thought about what was coming next.
Shane had been right before, although it had been hard for me to hear it.
I did feel the need to fix things and solve people because if you did that, they needed you. They might have loved you for it.
Right at the moment, I could hear Morgan in her room laughing quietly as she talked to her guy in Germany.
Max and Avonlea were ensconced in her condo, probably celebrating the Woodsmen win with caviar and champagne.
I wanted that, too—not caviar, but laughter and love. Champagne also would have been good.