I don’t call Emily when I get home. Because even though I know I can finally start living my life, I’m still angry that I’ve wasted all this time. The headache comes on strong, and I think about reaching for my weed or my bottle of Jack, but ultimately, I text Emily. Very hard day. Going to sleep. Will talk later.
She writes back. OK. Im here.
To which I don’t answer. I just stare at the words. Is it OK that she’s here? Is it OK for me to go on with my life? After Ryan? After Leah? Why do I keep getting more chances?
I text Allie.
Hey.
She doesn’t answer right away, and at first, I’m a little relieved, because I’m sort of scared to have this conversation.
I lie in my bed and consider my choices. I could smoke some weed. God knows I deserve it. I could numb my head and calm my soul. All this getting real shit is hard. I could use a little break. But just as I’m about to get the bag out from under my desk, my phone vibrates. Allie.
Hey yourself. How are you?
I stare at the ceiling. I’m OK. Everything is fine here but I have something I want to tell you.
OK…
I’m dating someone.
That’s good!
It feels kind of serious.
Oh.
My insides turn liquid, and I feel horrible for disappointing Allie. For cheating on her big sister. But then she texts back.
I have to vet her. That’s my right. As your pseudo little sister.
OK.
She better be good enough for you.
She is.
Up to me to decide. Set up a meeting.
How come all the women in my life are unrelenting?
Then: I have a lacrosse game this week.
OK. I did a spit-take. U r a jock now?
Sort of. That OK?
It depends what you do on the field. No pressure.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel the pressure is releasing itself. Bit by bit. I don’t tell Allie that. I just say that I’m going to rest up so I can be all beast. She says good night, and it feels kind of OK to have these people in my life—not as rocks but as anchors.
• • •
Now it’s Monday morning all fast and furious. I not only have to go to school, but I kind of want to. As I make my way downstairs, part of me is scared that all that stuff that’s happened lately was just a dream and nothing will have changed. When I get downstairs, I see that can’t be farther from the truth.
Dad is leaning against the counter as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I almost do a double take. In the six years I lived alone with Dad, I almost never saw him in the morning before school.
“Morning,” he says, holding the coffee mug he’d gotten to replace the one I broke after that day.
“Morning.”
“You feel OK?” he asks as if I’m getting over a cold.
I expect him to hand me money but am surprised to find Mom’s morning prescription ready for me as if they’d discussed it beforehand. There’s my bagged lunch, a to-go cup with coffee, and my protein shake.
“Thanks,” I say, even though I’m sure that my look is something between incredulous and worried.
Uncle Dave comes out of what used to be Ryan’s room, which makes me wonder where the hell Dad stayed last night. “Glad to see you’re eating better, John.”
Dad reaches into his wallet to supplement the already-made lunch, and I wave him off. He refuses to put the money away, slides it toward me on the counter. “Just in case.”
I scoop it up. No reason to fight him on this, especially since I know he’s only doing what he knows. Plus, what’s the real harm in giving me money? I’d have to be a total asshole to be pissed at something like that, and I’d like to believe I’m past being that guy now.
“You have a scrimmage today?” Uncle Dave’s eyes go to my lacrosse bag on the floor.
And I realize I’ve got no idea what my lax schedule is or who got my gear ready for me. The feeling of having walked into someone else’s life surrounds me, feels like a noose around my neck.
“Practice today. Game tomorrow.” Dad drinks from his mug, the one he used all the time when he lived here. “I called the coach. Just to make sure you weren’t going to miss anything important.”
“Season opener.” Uncle Dave nods as if remembering some of his glory days.
“Those were the days?” I can’t help but be smart-ass.
“Definitely,” Uncle Dave says. “Good thing I’ve got you to live vicariously through.”
I smile. Drink my coffee. Uncle Dave’s way of saying he’ll be there.
Beep.
“OK, see you after practice.” Dad walks me to the door.
“Sure.”
“By the way, John, Coach said you’d be starting tomorrow. Said you’re one hell of a warrior.”
“Thanks,” I say, even though there’s no reason to thank Dad.
“No surprise to me,” Dad says. “You’ve always been one helluva kid.”
• • •
Emily smiles at me as I get in the car.
“You know, I could drive you every once in a while,” I say.
“Nah. I like my power position in this relationship.”
“I like powerful women.”
“Well, all right then.” She pulls out into the street, and we ride like this for the five minutes it takes to get to school. The car goes into park, and she swivels to face me. “Want to tell me about it?”
“Nope.” I drink my coffee but don’t move to get out of the car. “I think we should keep it light.”
Her face falls. She misunderstood. But still she says, “You’re probably right.”
I take her hand. “I just mean the conversation.”
“Oh. OK. I mean, we should probably keep it all light, right?”
“Only if you’re planning to break my heart.”
She puts her hand out, and I hold it. “Not a chance.”