Joel and the team have been gone more than they’ve been at school since the tournament started. I haven’t seen him, and we’ve only exchanged a few texts, all of them about the games. This weekend is the Final Four. It’s Victor’s weekend with Christian, but Christian really wanted us all to watch the game together, so I’m at Nadine’s house sandwiched between my son and his father on the downstairs couch – never thought I’d see the day honestly.
As the camera zooms in on Joel, Christian jumps up and cheers. The announcers talk about how his performance tonight is going to be key for a Valley win and my stomach is in knots.
Victor offers me the bowl of chips and I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m not much of a potato chip kind of gal.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
There’s a lot we don’t know about each other but pointing that out hardly seems productive. Victor has been trying harder. He hasn’t been late or a missed a meetup and he actually came to one of Christian’s soccer games. Ever since Christian was sick and I called him for help, he’s been different. Maybe seeing his son that vulnerable finally got through to him.
“I have an idea,” I say, watching Joel on the TV.
When I glance at him, Victor eyes me suspiciously. Fair since I’ve not been the easiest person to co-parent with. My anger and bitterness about his absenteeism isn’t without merit, but I’ve certainly not helped matters by holding it over his head and acting like an ice queen around him.
“Let’s play seven questions. You ask me any seven questions you want, and I’ll do the same.”
Pulling a Joel Moreno move. It worked for us, maybe it’ll help with Victor – minus the kissing and fondling. There is absolutely zero chemistry between Victor and me now. He’s still attractive, blonde hair and blue eyes with long, dark lashes women would kill for. But he’s not really my type. Back then I didn’t realize I had a type. Victor had been nice and comfortable.
“Alright. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
We stare at each other for a minute, neither making a move to go first.
“I’m gonna get some alcohol for this. You like beer?”
“Beer’s good.”
Victor disappears up the stairs and I pull a squirming Christian into my lap. “How’s the team doing?”
“Good.” He grins ear to ear. “Maybe if they win, we can have pizza with Joel again?”
He looks so into the idea I can’t bring myself to do anything but nod as he jumps off my lap to stand in front of the TV.
“Alright,” Victor says, coming down the stairs with four beers, two in each hand. “Ready?”
We settle onto the old leather couch, facing each other. Me leaning back against the armrest and Victor on the other side foot propped over a knee.
“Favorite food?” I ask and take a sip of the Bud Light.
“Pizza.”
“Christian’s too.”
He glances to our son and smiles. “Yours?”
“Cheeseburgers. Favorite band?”
“Tupac forever.” He flashes a W with his left hand in the west side symbol and I laugh. I hadn’t pegged him for an old school rap guy.
We fire questions back and forth, neither of us counting and only stopping occasionally to track the game. Valley is leading and Joel looks good. No, he looks great. Christian bounces between standing a foot in front of the TV cheering and bouncing on the couch between us.
“I’ve got a question,” Victor says, pulling my attention from the TV. “What’s going on with you and the basketball guy?” He points toward the TV.
“Oh. Nothing.”
"Come on, we're sharing."
"He was helping me with my play, and we went on a few dates. That’s it. We’re just at different places. He’s not looking for a relationship, and I am. It was stupid to get involved." I shrug. “What about you? Are you dating?”
He shakes his head. “No. I mean a little at school, but nothing serious.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, staring at the TV even though it’s halftime and there isn’t really anything to see. Valley is up by ten and the announcers seem pretty confident that they can win as long as they don’t lose their minds in the second half.
The camera zooms in on Joel and Z walking back onto the court.
“I think you’re wrong about him,” Victor says. “Guy all but told me I needed to step up. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t have a vested interest.”
“Wait, what? When?” That doesn’t sound like Joel. Or well, it does, actually, but I’m still surprised.
“That day at your apartment. Before he left, he told me to tell you goodbye and that you wouldn’t ask for help, but you needed it.”
I cringe because Victor and I are finally talking, and I don’t want this to stir things up before we’ve barely made progress.
“He was right. I mean I was pissed at first which is why I didn’t mention it before, but I thought about it, then got the same talk from my mom, so I figured he probably wasn’t talking out his ass.”
I laugh awkwardly, and he joins in.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though I’m not sure exactly what I’m apologizing for – for letting it get to a point where other people needed to step in? I should have been the one to talk to him about it.
“No, I am.” He plays with the tab of his beer can, pushing it to one side and then the other. “I’m sorry I left. When Christian was born, it felt like you guys didn’t need me. Even when he was here, Mom mostly doted on him. She took over and I let her. Then as he got older, I barely knew him. Didn’t know what he liked or needed, and he sensed that.”
We’re quiet and I can’t think of what to say. I didn’t know any of this. Hadn’t asked – always assumed it was purely selfishness that kept him away.
“Christian is a good kid,” I say and we both look to our son who has lost interest in the game and is rolling the small Valley basketball Joel got him around the basement. “You both just need more time together. He’s getting that now and I think it’s been good for him.”
“Yeah, he is a good kid. I can’t take any credit for that. It was all you. Thank you for that and about a million other things.”
Maybe that’s all I needed to hear – the acknowledgment that I’ve done well and that he’s noticed because all the lingering resentment I’ve held on to from the past three years disappears with that statement. I’m hopeful that this really will be a fresh start for all of us.
“Also, for what it’s worth, I think you should give the guy a real chance. He’s definitely got Christian’s seal of approval.”
“What do you mean a real chance?”
Victor grins. “Don’t write him off at the first screw up. You seem like you’ve already made up his mind for him.” He holds his hands up defensively as I open my mouth to protest. Joel made his mind and feelings very clear. “Look, I know I have like no room to talk when it comes to self-development, but your tendency is to close off, bite your tongue, and stew in silence. That and my lack of balls is the reason this is the first time we’ve had a real conversation in three years.”
“I can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t. And even if he did feel the same, what if he can’t be what I need?” I voice my real concerns out loud. Being responsible for a tiny human means I can’t settle or accept less than I deserve, even if I think I’d be willing to take any scraps Joel would give me if things were different.
“Then at least you can move on knowing you gave it your all. But right now, looking at you, I know you are still hoping for him to change his mind. Maybe he’s having the same reservations.”
The game ends late and at Nadine’s insistence, I find myself in the guest room staying the night. Valley won, and I hold my phone over my face debating on texting Joel. I can’t believe I’m about to take Victor’s advice, of all people.
Me: Congrats on the game! Christian and I watched. We’ll be cheering you on Monday!
My phone rings a minute later with a video call.
“Hey,” I answer, heart in throat as Joel’s face appears on the screen. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in weeks.
“Hey yourself.” He props a hand behind his head, and I can tell he’s lying in bed.
“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”
“I’ll celebrate Monday night when we win. Until then, eat, sleep, ball.”
I hear Nathan grumble in the background and Joel flips him off. “I gotta go, Kitty, just wanted to see your face. Tell little man I said hey.”
“I will. Night.”
He smiles into the phone, the sexy cocky smirk I fell in love with, and my heart squeezes. “Night, Kitty.”