by KL Donn
He tilts his little head, listening to me. I think he’s surprised to find out I miss my friends too. I miss Maggie most of all.
“I don’t want them back if it means Daddy comes back.” His lip quivers as he speaks, and he squeezes his eyes closed.
“Aww, Dane. Daddy isn’t coming back. You’re safe. No man is ever going to hit you again because you changed the TV channel or because you were playing cars too loudly or you belched at the kitchen table while eating. The next man in our life is going to be kind and funny, will love kids, and have compassion for mistakes. I can promise you that!”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I know he means it.
“Now, let’s go get ready to start living our new life and go make some friends at soccer camp.” I laugh, hugging him tightly as I stand. He scrambles down to the floor and takes off running upstairs to get his soccer gear.
11
Ian
I can’t believe how loud it is here in the dome without a match going on. Mikael jogs toward me. “Hey, Mik. Thanks for showing up,” I say, removing the balls from the net bags and lining them up down the sideline. “We have twenty-five kids registered. Today we’re just going to show them how to stretch, get mentally prepared to play, and go over basic skills to see what we’re working with. Give them some basic sportsmanship lessons and make sure everyone gets along.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “I’m here, my man. Where do you need me?” He fist bumps me and takes a seat.
“Ha, ha. Very funny. No, this is my first court-appointed kids camp, but I went to many of these when I was growing up, so hopefully I remember a few things and pass the good lessons along.”
“Yeah, let’s pass the good things along and leave the violent crimes at home.” I turn and pass a skeptical look at him.
“What? This is Chicago,” he deadpans.
“I know, but how about we leave violent crimes where they belong—in fiction books and movies.” I look at my phone, it’s almost 9:00 AM. Sebastian, Sam, Ricardo and a few other teammates of mine walk towards us. We huddle at center field, and I fill them in on the tasks and lessons we’re going to go over today.
The kids start filtering their way down to the field with their parents. They each have name tags on their shirts, and the faint smell of toothpaste fills the air. A face I recognize runs toward me, wearing a smile from ear to ear. “Hey, you made it.” He hugs my legs then releases me quickly when his dad pulls him back.
“Yeah, I texted Amy as soon as we got back to our seats, and he was registered before we left the game that day. I don’t think Ian would have let us leave without being signed up.”
“Way to go, Ian. You have to go after your dreams with all of your heart.” I wink and ruffle his hair. “Do you know anyone here?”
He looks around from one end of the field to the other. “No,” he replies in a small, nervous voice.
Just then, I catch the eye of two more faces I know. Dane and Neenah. “Come walk with me. Let’s make a new friend.” I nod in their direction to his father, and we head towards them. My heart thumps wildly as I get closer to her.
As I approach, Dane’s eyes go wide with surprise. He looks at Neenah, and I hear her say, “Surrrrpriiiise.”
“Hi, Dane. Are you one of my new athletes or are you here for the tour?” He looks up at Neenah for confirmation.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “We’re here for the tour.” He looks up at her in surprise, tears filling his eyes. “I’m kidding, Dane. We’re here for soccer camp.”
“Dane, this is Ian,” I introduce him as his dad pushes him forward. “He’s here for soccer camp too, and he doesn’t know anyone. Would you mind being his friend for the summer and partnering up?” I point to Ricardo out on the field and send them over to him to play until we start. “Neenah, this is…Donnie. Donnie, this is Neenah,” I introduce them from the name tag Donnie is wearing and watch as they shake hands. “Neenah and Dane are my new neighbors and don’t know anyone in Chicago yet. They just moved here. So we’re all making new friends today.”
Laticia, from marketing, is motioning for the parents to gather around her. “Looks like your tour is starting. We’ll be done by noon. Just make your way back here to pick them up.” They turn and walk away. I watch the ruffled edge of her skirt swish from the back as she moves.
When I turn to the kids on the field, Mikael mouths “Who’s that?”
I just wave him off, shaking my head.
“All right.” I clap my hands to get the kids to gather around. “Who’s here for soccer camp?” Every single arm raises and waves around in the air with a bunch of “Me’s” in harmony. “Good. You’re in the right place. Let’s get into a circle and introduce ourselves to our teammates.”
“Whew! That was exhausting,” I say to Mikael in the locker room. I take a seat on the bench to catch my breath. “I have no idea how you parents do it, let alone the single parents.”
“Well, generally we work all day, come home and cook. Then we let that last bit of food energize us before taking the kids to the park to run their little butts off. Afterwards, the kids fall asleep in the car and then we, in our never-ending exhaustion, carry them upstairs and wrestle them into their PJ’s. All while trying not to wake them up, mind you. And it’s double work, hell sometimes triple or more, for a single parent.”
“I guess. I still don’t know if I could do that after working all day. Now I know why my mom always complained about how tired she was. She had two boys, and we were hellions most of the time.” Plus she was raising my dad, the low-life scum bucket abuser that he was. I make a mental note to send her some flowers.
“Speaking of moms…what was up with the skirt you were watching? Do you know her?” he asks.
I shrug it off, not wanting to give myself away.
“C’mon, man. Your silence speaks volumes. She’s got a kid. That’s not your usual circle, Mr. Chicago Bachelor.”
“She’s my new neighbor. She’s not from around here. I’ve been watching out for her. Chicago can be rough.”
He gives me that look. The one that tells me he doesn’t believe a damn word coming out of my mouth, but he’s going to let it slide. “Fine. I’ll let that story play for a while. I gotta run. See ya later,” he says over his shoulder before rounding the corner.
He’s right, and she already warned me about her baggage. How bad can it be? I can’t stop thinking about her though. I toss everything into my gym bag and head home.
My phone rings as I pull out of the garage. It’s Andy. My stomach churns acid as I swipe to answer it. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Are you sitting down?”
Damnit, I hate questions like that. It could be good or bad news, and right now, I can’t take any more bad news. I sigh. Loudly. “I’m sitting down. Please don’t give me bad news.”
“Well, I’d rather you hear it from me before you get to practice, so that you’re prepared.”
“Fuck! What now?” I hiss into the phone.
“Did you watch the midday news?
“No. My court-appointed soccer camp started today and went until noon. What’s going on, Andy?”
“Well, it seems there’s a group of women upset about you hosting a kids’ soccer camp. They don’t think you should be allowed near children with your violent tendencies. They plan on protesting on Thursday. They’ve called the news outlets who lovingly ran the story today. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s court-ordered. I have to do it,” I yell into the phone.
“I know that. Hell, everyone else knows it too, if they’ve been paying attention,” he says. I hear the leather in his chair creak as he leans back.
I turn onto Mobley and flip my phone to speaker. “Listen, Todd thinks I should hire a PR person to get me through this. I’m not sure about it. I’d rather just remain silent and let it blow over. The less attention I bring to it, the quicker it’ll fade,
right? Plus, I don’t like someone speaking for me.”
“It’s not a bad idea, but you have to find the right person—someone who can handle athlete problems. I can recommend someone if you decide to do it.”
“He’s got someone in mind. His new girlfriend, Tia, I think.”
“Tia Roxbury? And Todd? Seriously?” The leather of his chair squeaks again, and he clears his throat before speaking. “Ian, listen to me and listen very closely. Tread very carefully with Tia. She’s not someone who likes to be told ‘No’ if you catch my drift. She’s like poison ivy. At first she doesn’t bother you, but after a few encounters, she’s all over you and not in a good way.”
“Well, shit. He wants me to throw a party so he can introduce us. Now I want to run and hide. How in the hell did she get her claws into Todd?” I pull into the Wilson’s driveway and skirt through their backyard and into Neenah’s garden. Her bare legs and feet are hanging out of the egg-shaped papasan chair. She must be reading. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” I whisper to Andy and hit the end button. I turn the corner of her garage and tiptoe around the hostas.
“Are you going to act like you don’t see me here?” she asks curiously. Her long fingers close her book and hold it against her chest. “Or am I supposed to ignore the trespasser?”
“Ignore the trespasser,” I cup my hands around my mouth like a megaphone and squeal into them in a high-pitched voice, making my voice crack. I choke, and she laughs, beaming a bright smile at me.
I take a seat next to her on a lounger, being mindful of her glass of lemonade sitting on the table next to her. “What’s this?” I point to her drink. “No vodka cranberry cooler? I guess it is midday.” I shrug, teasing her.
“How did you know it was a vodka cranberry cooler that spilled the last time you came sneaking up on me?”
“Well, only middle-aged ladies drink straight cranberry juice, and you don’t look middle-aged to me. The vodka is odorless, but I saw the bottle in your cupboard the night we took Dane to the park, so I naturally assumed you were mixing them.”
“So, I’m predictable now. Isn’t a sign of being middle-aged predictability?”
I raise my eyebrow and squint at her through the sunlight. “I have no comeback for that. I feel like you’re either picking a fight or trying to throw me off from guessing your age.”
She turns her face away from me and casts her eyes down. “I’m thirty, and you’re right…I should ignore the trespasser.” She stands and walks inside the house, closing the door—leaving her book and drink behind. She never looks directly at me, but the slump of her shoulders is overwhelming sad.
How did that go so wrong, so fast? What did I say? Or is it more like what did I make her remember?
Women. I’ll never understand them. They either open up and tell you things you aren’t quite ready to hear, or they completely shut down on you causing a traffic jam of emotion on a two-lane highway.
The wind picks up, and the sky darkens with big puffs of dark grey clouds. There’s a storm rolling in quickly from Lake Michigan. I grab her book and drink just as lightning flashes and thunder cracks across the sky off in the distance. I knock lightly on her backdoor without any response. I peer inside but don’t see her anywhere. My hand turns the knob, opening the door slightly. I’ll just place them on the counter and be gone. When I step inside, I hear her crying.
“Neenah,” I call to her. I check the large open room next to the kitchen and see her sprawled out across the sectional. Her face is buried in a pillow at first, but she looks up right when my feet bang into the end table. “Why are you crying?”
She sits up and wipes at her eyes with her hands. When that doesn’t quite do the trick, she pulls up the collar of her sweater and rubs her whole face to dry it.
“Don’t do that,” I say, trying to stop her. I go and pull a few tissues from the box on the kitchen counter and bring them back to her. “Here. Use these.”
She takes them from me and blows her nose. She sits up straight on the couch and cross her legs like a pretzel. I take a seat next to her. “You probably think I’ve lost my mind,” she says accusingly. She wraps the tissues around her fingers, twisting and folding them tightly. My mom does that. It’s a nervous habit.
“Please tell me what’s bothering you. I probably can’t fix it, but I can listen,” I offer sincerely. I nudge her with my knee to get her to look up at me. “C’mon. I’m a great listener. I have years of experience—all from many bad dates. Believe me.”
She looks at me sideways and chuckles under her breath. “Thanks. I needed that laugh.”
“You’re welcome.” I crisscross my legs like hers, meeting her on her level. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”
She finally looks up at me. The reddened rims of her eyes shatter my heart. Usually a woman crying doesn’t bother me, but her tears move me to want to do something. What? I have no idea, but I want to make her smile and laugh. I want to see her happy.
“You’re going to want to run away when you hear my story,” she warns, picking at a loose string on the pillow she’s holding to her chest. She’s using it as a barrier between us.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have my gym shoes on.”
She pushes the pillow she’s holding at my arm, knocking me sideways. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Are they tied tight?”
“Let me check,” I say, reaching down and pulling tightly on the loops. Clearing my throat, I sit back facing her directly. “Listen, Neenah. I grew up in a single-mother home. I know what you’re going through from a certain perspective. My dad was a drunk and used to beat the daylights out of my mom. When my brother and I tried to stop him, if we were around, we’d get it just as good as she did. Until we got older—, well…that part isn’t important."
A small gasp escapes her lips. She reaches out her hand and places it on my arm, showing support.
“He wouldn’t let her work, so she had no income, no education, and no family to run to. My brother and I used to hustle kids playing street soccer for their lunch money, just so we could go to the grocery store and get bologna for sandwiches.” I shake my head remembering those days.
“How did she get away?” her voice shakes with the question.
“He died. Took his own life with a shotgun one day while we were at school.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be. He deserved his death. I’m just happy he didn’t take Mom with him.”
Her hands stumble forward over mine and squeeze them tightly, remaining there. Their warmth shoots electric sparks up my spine.
“That’s not why I’m sorry. I feel for your mother having to go through that.”
“Thank you. She’s a strong woman, and she keeps getting stronger every day. She has these trigger memories. She hears certain words or tones of voice, and every now and again, I can see her shiver.”
Neenah’s eyes dart off to the far corner of the room, lost in her own thoughts.
“That’s how I know I said something earlier that triggered you walking away. Didn’t I?”
Her eyes come back to focus on my face, and she clenches the pillow on her lap tightly, leaving my hands cold and empty.
“I’m here to listen, Neenah. Let me be a friend.”
She nods but doesn’t move. I give her time to collect her words, watching the second hand on the wall clock behind her move slowly.
“He sometimes drank, but I wasn’t allowed to. He wasn’t an alcoholic though. He had other issues. Mental issues—he had this sick, chauvinistic sense of me being the only responsible parent. Moms don’t drink…they have children to raise. So, I’d hide the bottle from him, only drinking at night after Dane went to bed. I needed a break from my long day raising a child alone, and from him. I drank odorless vodka and tart cranberry juice so he wouldn’t know. When he did catch me drinking, he’d accuse me of trying to pick a fight,” her voice shakes slightly. A single teardrop holding her pain rolls down her face.
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Oh shit. I called her out on both issues. No wonder she walked away. My thumb subconsciously reaches up and catches the tear before it can fall from her cheek. My fingers lift her face to mine. Big, round blue eyes, beautiful but haunting, stare back at me full of sadness and pain.
I lean in, cradling her face in my hands. My fingers reach around her neck and gently pull her to me. Her lips tremble against mine as we kiss. One soft, quick kiss. I pull back. My heart hammers against my chest. I’m breathless from that one taste of her, but I can’t take more from her in her sadness. “I’m sorry I made you remember.”
Right then, footsteps pound on wood in a nearby part of the house. “Dane,” she gasps and jumps up, setting the pillow down where she sat moments before.
The front door creaks open, and I look up confused.
“Don’t let him catch you here. He’s checking the mail.”
“Can I come back later?” I ask, standing and following her into the kitchen. She sees her book and slides it from the counter, holding it in her hands.
I stand at the back door waiting, opening it slightly. It’s pouring down rain outside. The front door opens again and panic springs to her face.
“After dark,” she says quickly and shoos me away with her hands.
I slip out the back door before Dane enters the kitchen and race home through the rain.
12
Neenah
Eight hours later, and I can still feel his lips on mine. My fingers instinctively reach to touch them. Yes, there’s still a current of electricity running through them.
I feel a connection to him, but I’m not sure if it’s real. Is it just me wanting so desperately to be free of this loneliness inside of me? I can’t trust myself anymore. I look down at Dane fast asleep in my lap and brush the hair from his eyes. Everything I do moving forward needs to be for Dane. He’s the only man in my life now.
He’s had a tiring day with soccer camp. Then we went for a long walk in the neighborhood when the rain stopped and ended it with a trip to the grocery store for movie night. Thirty minutes into The Chronicles of Narnia, and he was out like a light. I jostle him into my arms and carry him upstairs to bed.