by KL Donn
Dane looks around the yard for something to do but quickly loses interest when he sees it’s just grass and flowers. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll go and get what you’ve come here for.” She saunters back into the house.
“Can we go now?” Dane whines. He’s still a little tired from soccer camp.
“I think you’ll like why we’re here as soon as she comes back. Please wait patiently. I know you’re tired, but we won’t be here for very long.”
The door from the sunroom opens, and she appears with a golden retriever on a bright yellow leash by her side. “This is Apollo.” She walks him out to us and removes his leash before taking a seat next to me. Dane walks over to him and drops to his knees to get to the same level. He pets him gently on the head then turns to me with wide eyes.
“Apollo, show greetings,” Emma commands, and Apollo holds up his paw for Dane to shake it. Dane reaches out slowly but bravely and shakes his paw. “Dane, would you like to introduce yourself to Apollo?”
He shakes his head vigorously and holds out his hand for the dog to shake. I chuckle under my breath but recover before he sees me laughing.
“Dane, can you lie down in the grass like you’re going to sleep?” Emma asks nicely.
He looks at me with a blank look on his face.
“Go ahead and lie down, Dane. Apollo wants to get to know you, and he needs you to lie down for that. It’s okay. He won’t hurt you,” I assure him.
Dane flops down onto the grass and spreads his arms and legs out wide.
“Apollo, meet Dane,” she commands. Apollo stands and walks around Dane, sniffing him all over, starting with his hair and moving down to his face, his chest, and finally his feet.
Dane giggles a few times. “He tickles.”
Tears well up in my eyes, having never heard him giggle before. I swipe at the few tears that fall, and Emma smiles knowingly at me. She understands, and for the first time in a long time, I feel lighter. Happier. My universe has finally shifted, hearing the joy bubbling up and erupting from my son.
Emma shows Dane a few commands that Apollo knows, and they practice them up and down the backyard. Dane takes direction well from Emma, while she respectfully shows him patience as he learns how to maneuver Apollo with and without his leash. Before long, our time is up, and we must go. The butterflies start swirling in my stomach, unsure how Dane is going to take leaving without Apollo, but Emma smooths this over as well. I can tell she’s done this a few times.
She sits down on the grass next to where Dane and Apollo are lying together. “Dane, if you come back to see Apollo tomorrow and you can successfully remember the commands we practiced today, I’ll let you take him home with you to live. Does that sound like something you’d like?”
Dane jumps up and hugs Apollo heartily before running over to me. “Can we have him, Mommy?”
“If you can remember the commands Miss Emma taught you today and show them to her tomorrow, then yes.” The smile that lights up his face melts my heart and blows my mind all at the same time. These are the moments parents live for—making your child happy. But when your child doesn’t usually show positive emotions, it’s an even more special day. It’s freakin’ Christmas, and I just got everything I asked for.
After ten minutes of saying goodbye to Apollo, Dane is finally ready to leave.
“He did well today; much better than I expected. He’s a really bright and adorable little boy,” Emma says as we walk to our car.
I open the back door and let Dane in to complete his seatbelt safety checks.
“Thank you for being patient with him. Not everyone is. I, uh—I don’t know how much Maggie has shared with you of our story, but Dane has additional mental baggage that we need to work through. You’ll need to know our history in order to work with him in class when the time comes.”
She reaches out and places her hand on my arm with the gentlest touch. “Maggie has told me what I need to know. I hope that’s all right with you?”
I lift my head up to the sunshine, praying it dries the tears welling up in my eyes before they fall. “It’s okay. I trust Maggie completely. She’s my dearest friend and knows us best. Being reacquainted with Dane after a thirteen-month absence has been hard, but Dane seems to cruise along like it never happened. That thrills me but also concerns me.”
“I’m sure it’s been hard, but he appears to be well-adjusted and loving. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, and whatever arises…we’ll deal with it as it comes. There isn’t anything else I could promise that wouldn’t be the truth. I’ll always be honest with you, Neenah. I’m confident that having Apollo will solve many of your problems, starting tomorrow.”
“We’re so excited for tomorrow. Aren’t we, Dane?” I exclaim loudly, causing Dane to look at us through the window. A side smirk appears on his face. I know that look. He’s happy.
I hug Emma feeling much closer to her now, and climb into the Jeep, rolling down the window to wave goodbye.
“I’ll see you both at 9:00 AM. Okay?” she calls to us as I’m backing out of her driveway.
“Yes, ma’am. 9:00 AM sharp,” I advise, waving as we head out onto the main street.
As soon as we arrive home, my phone buzzes with a text from Amy. “Go play, honey. Dinner will be ready soon.” He takes off like a lightning bolt up the stairs.
A: How about these slogans for signs? ‘I stand with Ian Legend...he’s so HOT!’ adding in a picture of the Chicago Fire logo? Or “Be a LEGEND, stop abuse against women!”
Me: Ooh, I love them. I need to get crackin’ on my slogans. I’m already jealous.
A: Oh, I’m full of them. I’ll share.
Me: I can’t wait to make these tomorrow.
A: I’m going to initiate the phone tree.
Me: What’s that?
A: You know, the list of our names and phone numbers for soccer emergencies, like if practice is cancelled or someone needs a ride.
Me: Oh. I didn’t know it had a name. It’s just hanging there on the side of our fridge collecting dust. Lol.
A: I hope others feel the same about this and will want to participate.
M: I hope so too. We can’t be the only ones who think this protest is insane.
A: So your house tomorrow afternoon?
Me: Yep, 4:00. Bring everyone. We’ll order pizza and the kids can play.
A: Good plan. Yay for pizza! See you then.
I start dinner with a sense of excitement about the anti-protest but also with a sense of anxiety. What if this all goes wrong? What if we embarrass the team or cause more harm than good? What if we cause him to lose more sponsors? I have no idea how many deals he has, but even the loss of one sucks. God knows how many deals were on the table that stopped cold because of his one well-meaning, but reckless act.
He’s a good man. I know it deep in my bones. I check out his Instagram while I wait for the fettuccine to finish boiling.
Oh my God! My heart beats against my rib cage so hard, I’m breathless. He’s posted a meme that says, ‘Missing you comes in waves, and tonight, I’m drowning.’ I check the time and see he posted it fifteen minutes ago. Holy crap! He misses me.
Wait! Is it me? He says waves…just like the emoji I sent him.
Do I heart it, or not? Instead, I scroll through and start reading the hundreds of comments, and quickly give up when I see the dirty statements that are posted. A sharp pain stabs at my heart, and for the first time in a long time, I’m jealous.
Jealous of these women and their boldness.
Jealous of how easily they put themselves out there without a care in the world as to who sees them.
Jealous of the fact that I’ve been intimate with him just like their words, but I can’t let him in any further than that. He deserves someone who can freely love him back.
I scroll down a little further by sheer stubbornness. These comments – he’s not that man. I’m sure they see the sexiness of his eyes or body, but he’s so much more than that
. His heart is golden. His mind is sharp and so funny. His loyalty is unyielding. And when he loves, he does it passionately.
He’s a once-in-a-lifetime-man.
The timer goes off, and I strain the pasta then add it to the Alfredo sauce, stirring in the chicken and broccoli.
I quickly come to grips with the fact that he’s not mine to be jealous over at all. And it’s my fault. I darken my phone and set it face down, deciding I’ve had enough torture for the moment.
It’s not me he’s missing.
23
Ian
I arrive at camp super early to catch Debbie. She makes the most eye-catching fliers. Hell, she made the fliers for the camp that some kids passed around at the local businesses to promote it. Fingers crossed she can make what I need and quick. I want to give everyone two weeks’ notice at least. I ride the elevator up to the executive offices to find her, balancing a French Vanilla Iced Latte and the best cinnamon roll in the world for her as a bribe.
“Hi Debbie,” I say, approaching her desk with my widest smile on. She looks at me with suspicion when I set my presents down on her desk and take a seat. “How are you?”
“Uh, oh! Beware the Greeks when they come bearing gifts. Someone needs something, and he must need it pretty bad,” she surmises, hitting the nail on the head. She pulls the paper off the end of the straw and takes a sip, closing her eyes and enjoying the caffeine as it seeps into her cells.
“Guilty as charged.” I chuckle. What an understatement.
“What’s in the bag, Legend?” She nods her head toward it as her lips curl into a knowing smile.
“Oh, remember how at one of our team breakfasts last year we had that full-blown conversation about who has the best cinnamon rolls in Chicago? You said the Virginia Bakery, and I was leaning toward Cinnamon Town? Well, in my never-ending search for cinnamon roll perfection, I think I’ve found the best one that’ll ever grace your lips.” I smack my lips together to emphasize my point and push the bag closer to her. “Go ahead. Take a whiff of the goodness that is Ann Sather.”
“Hmmmm.” She eyes me doubtfully while reaching for the bag. She picks it up and holds it in the palm of her hand, weighing it. “It’s got potential,” she notes. As she begins to unravel the rolled edges of the bag, the smell emanates outward to my own nostrils, and I inhale that heavenly aroma as it fills the small space around us. “Well, at least it smells like a heavily-laden cinnamon roll.”
She gently reaches in and pulls out a Chinese takeout-style container. “Oh, I love the little box. How cute!” she exclaims. She waves the smell wafting from the box up to her nose and inhales as deeply like I did.
“Go slow. It’s a religious experience,” I inform her, and her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement. What she doesn’t know is that there are two cinnamon rolls in there.
She peels open the lid, unfolding them one by one and looks up at me in shock. “There are two cinnababies in here, Ian. Good Lord above. You’re spoiling me, and I don’t even know what for yet. Just look how perfect they are. All ooey-gooey and glazed over on each side. I’m almost afraid to touch them.”
“Might I share a little of my expertise with you?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“By all means,” she says, lifting her hands away from the box.
“The box folds flat and becomes a biodegradable plate.” I pinch and twist the seams open to show her how it flattens out onto her desk.
“Will you look at that? How adorable.” Her chubby fingers reach for the one on the right, and her eyes go round as she brings it to her mouth and takes a bite. Her eyelids close in complete rapture. “Holy Mother of God,” she says with a mouth full of soft, sweet dough. A small drip of cinnamon glaze appears at the crevice of her lips. She swipes the sign of the cross over her chest while still holding the cinnamon bun.
“I told you it’s a religious experience.” I lean back in the chair across from her desk and settle in to let her finish chewing her baked goods.
She swallows another bite and washes it down with a quick sip of her coffee. “All right. You’ve bribed me sufficiently. What can I do for you?”
“Okay. If you’re ready to move on to business.” I wink at her and lean forward again. “You know those fliers you made to promote the camp?”
She nods in agreement as she chews another bite.
“I’d like to invite the kids and their families to a pool party at my house for the 4th, and I need a flyer to do that. Could you help me? I’m not artsy.”
She glances over at her calendar quickly. “That’s a little over two weeks away. Sooo…you need this today, don’t you?” She tilts her head and gives me a knowing look.
I nod back in return. Too afraid to actually speak the words.
“I want something simple, but not plain. I loved the fliers, so I know you’ll do a great job. Pretty please?” I grasp my hands together in a silent prayer and drop down to my knees.
“Oh, hun. Stand up. I can’t have the owners coming in and seeing you begging like this. They’ll question my morals. Of course, I’ll do it.”
“Fabulous. You’re an angel, Debbie.” I hand her a piece of paper with the date, time and my address. “Here are the details.”
“I’ll have it sent down by the end of camp, so it can be passed out before the kids leave,” she informs me. I come around the desk and kiss her rosy cheek. “You know, I’d have done it without the goodies, but they’re an excellent incentive.”
“And I wouldn’t have asked without them. I’m glad the 6:00 AM trek to Edgewater worked out.”
“Woooow. Edgewater, huh? You did well, Legend. Now let me enjoy this last one in peace before the bosses come in,” she says, shooing me away from her desk. Her eyes shimmer with delight as I hop back onto the elevator.
I blow her a kiss before the doors shut, but don’t get to see her reaction. I’m just glad that went well, and I can mark it off my to-do list.
I go back to the locker room to grab my notebook plus my own coffee and cinnamon rolls I stashed there earlier. Then I head to the player’s lounge to finish my party prep to-do list and wait for the kids to arrive.
During practice, Sebastian calls me over to where some of the kids are practicing accuracy kicks. “Dude, you have to go one-on-one with this kid. I want to see if you see what I see. He gets past me every time. I’ve been watching him for several practices now and he’s…I don’t know what…like a soccer phenom or something. He’s like you, man. Just check him out,” he insists.
The boys are working in tight circles of five with their backs to us. I can’t tell one kid from another right now. It’s just one massive group of mismatched shirts. “All right. Which one is it?”
“Hey, Dane. Can you come here for a minute?” Seb calls to him, and Dane runs over to us.
“Hey, little man. What’s up?” I fist bump him, but Dane, being his usual self, is remote and quiet. He does fist bump me back though. That’s a win right there.
“Seb here says you’ve got some great striker skills. Can you show me what you’ve been working on?” He nods, and all three of us walk over to the goal area.
Seb tosses the ball out to me, and I kick it around Dane using baby steps. As casual as a pickpocket on the L-train, Dane steals the ball from me and circles back behind me. I spin around to track him, but I’m too late. He kicks it hard, whizzing the ball right past Sebastian who’s in mid-air diving for it. Whoosh, right into the net.
“Dane, that was awesome.” For the second time today I drop down to my knees, and I high-five him. “You’ve been practicing. That was a nice steal. It was quick.”
“We go to the park in the evenings. I practice what you showed me, and Mommy plays goalkeeper for me.”
Suddenly, I have an image of Neenah in those little, black, spandex shorts she wears with socks up to her knees kicking the ball around on the soccer field to me. I’m instantly hard as a rock. Fuck. How am I supposed to walk around in these cotton shorts sporting a hard-o
n in front of all these kids and their parents?
“That’s awesome, Dane. All right. Go join your group again.” I stay down, bending one knee to cover my stiffness, trying to bring the image and temperature of Antarctica to mind.
Seb pats me on my back. “See. The kid has talent, right? After this gig is over with, you should start a premier league for talented soccer kids in Chicago. Get the Fire to back it like a feeder team for future all-stars.”
“Damn, Sebastian. That’s a good idea. Who knew you could have such ingenious ideas?” My erection goes down the minute Seb starts talking, so I hop up and run over to the sidelines where I see Will flashing some papers at me.
“Smart ass,” I hear Seb mutter under his breath as I jog away.
“Hey, Will. Are those from Debbie?”
“Sure are. Hot off the presses.” He slaps them in my hand, and I take a look at what she’s come up with.
“Amazing.” She’s got American flags waving, fireworks bursting, little hamburgers playing soccer with hotdogs in Fire uniforms with a few drinks as referees. Nice. I look up at him, grinning from ear to ear.
“I can tell her that she has your approval then?”
“Oh yeah. She’s definitely got my approval. It was probably the cinnamon rolls.” I smack him teasingly on the chest and run backwards away from him, smiling like a big goofball. He just shakes his head and laughs at my antics. Will is a good soul. I’m going to miss him when he retires at the end of this season.
I glance up at the clock and find it’s 11:30, so practice is almost over for the day. I blow my whistle. “Let’s all move downfield closer to your stuff and start stretching.” They slowly trudge to where most of their parents are and spread out on the field.
My teammates spread out amongst them and begin the stretching routine. When we’re done, the parents start to line up along the sidelines, and I wave them down to us.