Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  “Aww. So that’s how they got Apollo so fast. I was wondering how that came about. My daughter is on the spectrum too, and we looked into a therapy dog, but they’re out of our price range.”

  “Neenah has no idea that was me. Or if she does know, she hasn’t said anything.”

  Amy nods. “I don’t think she knows or hasn’t put two and two together yet.”

  I smile. “And she’s going to be mad as hell when she does find out,” I say.

  “Yep. She’s definitely got some spunk in her.”

  “And a soft heart. And that damn smile, not to mention those adorable freckles that trail across her nose. I can’t imagine everything she’s gone through, but I know I want to make her laugh and smile the rest of her life.”

  “I hope you sincerely mean that, because she’s so damaged, it’s going to take a long time to piece her back together,” Amy says, looking me dead in the eyes. Amy is not a woman you lie to even with the best of intentions.

  I shift in my seat and lean forward, speaking softly, “I always mean every fucking word I say, and time doesn’t bother me.”

  “Well, good. We’re on the same page then. She went to Minnesota to obtain a restraining order that’ll protect her and Dane against these people. One that’ll cover Illinois if not the whole of the United States. They anticipate it’ll take a few weeks, but they’ll be back before school starts.”

  “So they plan on living here?” I rock forward in my chair, lifting the hind legs up off the floor, in anticipation of her response.

  “That’s what she told her attorney, yes. May I ask what you’re going to do about how this affects you?”

  “I spoke to the Hauptmans and the Fire’s chief counsel today. They advised me to let my publicist handle it.” I shake my head with that thought.

  “You disagree?” she asks curiously.

  “I don’t like anyone speaking on my behalf. The words should come out of my mouth since it’s my career.”

  “Hold that thought one moment.” She leaves the table, and I hear her speaking quietly to Donnie a few rooms away. Then I hear footsteps upstairs. They both enter the dining room together a few minutes later. “We can help you with that,” she says.

  “If you’re going to recommend a PR person, let me save you some time. I don’t want one,” I say, looking back and forth between the both of them.

  “Donnie worked in public relations for years. He was the man who wrote the statements put were out to the press,” she says, bumping him with her elbow. “Well, go ahead. Tell him.”

  Donnie walks me through his old job and how he can help me craft a narrative of the events which explains my side of the story. Sitting at their dining room table, we begin and work well into the late hours of the night. I send Andy a message near midnight to set up a press conference for two weeks from now on Wednesday. That should be enough time to bring it all together.

  A message pops up on my phone while I’m driving home.

  A: Consider it done.

  I look out to the far corner of the first row and see my mom and Todd. She winks at me in support. On the stage with me are the Hauptmans, David Stein, Chicago Fire’s Chief Legal Counsel, my attorney, and Andy, my agent. The Hauptmans offered up the complex’s media room for my conference and agree to let me start off today’s events before the team comes in with our regular press junket before the match tonight.

  I swallow hard, adjusting the microphone, and begin.

  28

  Neenah

  Edward and I file all the necessary papers for a restraining order. Now, we wait for the judge to sign-off. I’ve given a sworn statement about the threat to supplement the order per the judge’s instructions and have answered all of his questions. I wish he’d hurry up and sign it. I want to go home. Dane thinks we’re on vacation, but he misses soccer and his room, while I miss…being home. Aww hell, who am I kidding? I miss seeing Ian during practice and at soccer matches. I’ve been keeping an eye on the local Chicago news, but nothing seems to be going on.

  After two weeks in this apartment, I’m going stir-crazy. We spend most of our days at the pool, but even that’s getting old. My freckles are starting to blend into one massive age spot on my face.

  I decide to surprise my mom with a visit, because who knows—this could be our last chance to go see her since we’re leaving the minute the judge signs the order. I don’t ever plan on coming back.

  I knock on her door, and Apollo starts to whine. “Hold on boy. We’ll let you out back to go to the bathroom in a few minutes,” Dane assures him and holds his leash tightly.

  I knock again, knowing we’re parked behind her car in the drive. She’s home.

  “Yes,” she says as she opens the door. When she sees it’s me and Dane, her mouth turns down into a frown, but she opens the screen door for us.

  We walk into the townhome she’s living in. It’s fairly clean but smells like it needs some fresh air. I stride over to the sliding glass door and slide it open. “Dane, please take Apollo outside for his business. Clean up after him, and then you two can play out there while I visit with Nana. Okay?”

  “Yes, Mommy.” They run off, and I pull the screen on the sliding door closed.

  “Ran away from your troubles again, did ya?” she asks blandly.

  “No, I didn’t run away. I came home to take care of them finally.”

  She motions for me to take a seat at the dining room table where she’ having an afternoon coffee, but she doesn’t offer me any. It’s more than likely all she has as I look around the sparsely furnished rooms.

  “I caught your interview on The Today Show. Did you think that was a smart idea? I thought you were trying to hide from the Wells’?”

  “I actually wasn’t thinking about it at all, to be honest,” I huff at her.

  “That sounds about right. You always charge forward without thinking. You’re like your daddy. Stubborn.”

  I roll my eyes at her and bite my lip. I didn’t come to fight with her. “They said they’d cut and piece it back together to be shorter and use more shots of the protesters marching. I also didn’t know they were going to make a featured piece out of it, let alone for the Today Show. I thought it would air as a short snippet during a Chicago Fire match.”

  “Well, you’re the talk of the town now. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me about it. Congratulations on your fame.” She gets up and walks over to the curtains in the living room, peering outside first then yanking them closed.

  “Mom, there’s no need to shut the curtains. The press isn’t following us,” I say, moving over to the windows and opening them again but looking outside to be sure.

  “Then what did you want coming here?” she asks bitterly, taking her seat in front of me again.

  “I wanted to check on you. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so it’s now or never.”

  “Well, I’m fine. I have this place and my television shows. This is my life now with Daddy in hospice, and I don’t have to answer to anyone. I’m happy.”

  “This is happiness?” I hold my arms up in the air and look around. “That looks like misery. Don’t you have any friends or social events you go to or anything you do for fun?”

  “Fun? Who wants to spend time with an old woman who has nothing to offer except stories of sad times?”

  I take a good look at her. She looks haggard, reminding me of an old witch I remember from cartoons when I was younger. Her teeth are rotting, and her skin is sallow and deeply creased with age. This is the body and attitude of a broken spirit.

  “Why did you stay with Daddy? Why did you let him keep hitting you? Why did you let him hit me?”

  She looks at me with dead eyes. “Let him? That’s what you think I did? I couldn’t stop him.”

  “You could’ve left, taken us away somewhere. Our lives would be completely different,” I hiss at her.

  “Oh, like you did any better? Justin hit Dane just as hard as you got hit. Don’t deny it. Y
ou told me so yourself.” She takes a sip of her coffee and smacks her lips together either savoring her coffee or her hurtful words.

  “I did do better. I pulled Dane away from him and took his beatings myself. I’d do anything for that little boy, but you did nothing to save me.” My throat tightens with those last words.

  “I couldn’t save you. I was already beyond saving myself. Besides, you got out.”

  “Yeah, I jumped from one hot pan into another, unknowingly though. But when I realized it, I vowed I wouldn’t stay. History would not repeat itself. I taught myself graphic artistry on the local library’s computer, copying book covers to learn. I sacrificed and saved until I could pack up and leave. Justin came home early from work that day in a mood. He’d been fired from another job. He started in on me when I turned his television show off, and well…you know the rest of the story.”

  She doesn’t look at me, and I’m not sure I want her to. Her frail hands continue gripping her coffee mug, rubbing the same chip in the handle over and over again. I realize she’s holding my dad’s mug. My mother is broken, cold, and callous.

  “Mom, why didn’t you leave before I was born?” I ask softly.

  She sniffs, and when I look at her, she has tears welling up in her eyes. “I loved him. No matter how much he hurt me, I didn’t want to live without him because…he’s the only one who ever chose me. I didn’t want to give up on him. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter.”

  “Neither am I. Guess that’s another thing we have in common,” I say, and she cracks a small smile. I pull a tissue from the box on the table and hand it to her. “Dane deserves a better world. It stops with him. Why don’t you come back to Chicago with us? There isn’t anything for you here. Make some friends, find a hobby, and live out the rest of your life with some joy and peace?”

  “Because that’s what you have in Chicago? Joy and peace?” she quips sarcastically.

  Damn, she’s stubborn too.

  “Yes, Mom. I’ve begun to weave a happy life together. We have friends and a new life we’re building. We’ll be happy. That’s all I want for you too.”

  She looks around her small townhouse with a sour face. “I’ll think about it. My lease isn’t up until October.”

  “I’ll come and help you move if that’s what you decide to do.” I reach across the table and pat her arm. It’s a start, and that’s all I can ask for.

  Right then, Dane and Apollo come back inside the house. “It’s starting to rain,” he announces, and although Dane loves to swim, he doesn’t like the wetness of the rain.

  “Here. Let’s turn on the television and find something for you to watch.” He sits in the recliner and Apollo lies at his feet. I find the remote and flip through the channels until we come upon Ian standing at a podium in the Chicago Fire Soccer Complex.

  “That.” Dane points to the TV, and I turn it up to listen.

  He looks fabulous in his three-piece suit. His hair is flipped to the side, and his beard is growing out. He looks so good. The ribbon across the bottom of the screen announces the Ian Legend press conference.

  “Thank you all for coming. I have a statement that I’ve prepared so bear with me. I’ll take a few questions at the end,” he says before shuffling some papers on the podium and clearing his throat again to speak.

  “First of all, I’m sorry for my silence after my legal issues in Florida. I want you to know it was not my intention to beat that man. I grew up with domestic violence in my home. I know what it feels like to be helpless and unable to defend yourself or the people you love.” His voice shakes, and he reaches up to loosen his tie before continuing.

  “My mother, brother, and I are survivors of domestic violence and the aftereffects of suicide. My dad took his own life after a fitful rage where he’d beat us all to within a few breaths of our own lives. This isn’t meant to gain your pity. It’s to give you a reference for where my mind was when I saw what was happening in that alley in Florida.”

  The entire room is silent as Ian takes a sip of water.

  “I acted in the heat of the moment without considering the consequences to my career or the example I was supposed to be setting as a man of honor for those who look up to professional athletes. Please accept my sincerest apology. I realize now that my silence and hoping it would all just go away was disrespectful to you. I am not that man. I’ve completed my anger management classes and am working toward completing my community service hours with my camp because that’s who I am. I do what I say I’m going to do. I am that man.”

  I watch him deflate his lungs with a deep breath and look around the room. Cameras flash everywhere during his pause. He looks at the people on the stage with him and continues. The butterflies start swirling in my stomach, knowing how hard this is for him.

  “So, let’s talk about the kids who attend my camp. Not one of those kids lives without some kind of violence in their lives. They mostly come from the poorest and most violent neighborhoods in Chicago. My goals are to stop the violence, show them how to find something they love, and how to work passionately to achieve it through perseverance. If it weren’t for soccer, I honestly don’t know where I’d be today.” The camera swings out to the crowd, and everyone is enraptured with his words, scribbling furiously in their notebooks.

  “Let’s rewind to a few weeks ago when some of the parent’s from my court-appointed soccer camp decided to stage an anti-protest to counter a demonstration by other parents who were enraged because they viewed me as a violent man who shouldn’t be around kids. It incensed me that people thought they knew me from one bad decision. I’d like to think that if you happened upon a similar scene, you’d have done whatever you could in your power to stop the situation from escalating. I admit I took my actions too far. There are ten things now that I can think of that I should’ve done, but as we all know, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Again, I’m not that violent man. And neither is Neenah Wells. She has a similar history to mine. She grew up in a violent home and through poor decisions made in the ignorance of youth, found herself in a violent marriage with a man who has a condition known as Asperger’s. If you aren’t aware, it’s on the autism spectrum. Her son, who attends my camp, has this same condition, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how difficult it is to manage when anxiety levels rise. She’s told me her story, and I believe her because she has some of the same battered women’s syndrome symptoms that my family knows very well.”

  He stops to take another drink of water and a deep breath. His words sink it, and I feel…sadness and a bit overwhelmed, but overall less burdened.

  “Neenah speaking out against domestic violence isn’t a publicity stunt cooked up by the two of us. We’ve lived it. She feels very passionately about the issue. That’s why she wanted to praise my actions for helping to stop it, and she wanted to genuinely thank the Chicago Fire organization for allowing me to continue with my position on the team and my camp so that these kids are given the opportunity to improve their lives. I’m not going to comment about the Wells family or their accusations. Clearly, they’re grieving the loss of their brother. I’m also sure I’d do the same thing for my brother. Family is an unbreakable bond. I hope they find healing and peace. Neenah is doing her best to protect her son from untruths spread by those who don’t know what goes on behind closed doors. I hope they see this. I hope they return to camp soon. We miss our striker and miss her smiling face in our lives.”

  He looks directly into the camera then as if he’s pleading for us to hear his words. I choke back a sob, and pat Dane’s hair. A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I swipe at it. God, I love this man. I do. I love him!

  “In closing, one bad decision shouldn’t break a person. I believe in second chances. If guided properly, that’s all anyone ever needs. Thank you. Are there any questions?”

  Reporter number one: “Ian, have you reached out to Mr. Benson with a personal apology?”

  Ian: “Yes, we’ve spoken. He’s accepted my apology
and is seeking counseling.”

  Reporter number two: “How is your relationship with the Chicago Fire? Is it strained?”

  Ian: “No, it isn’t strained. I’m a Chicago native. The Chicago Fire is my home, and they treat me like family. As I said before, family bonds are unbreakable. At least that’s how I feel.”

  Mr. Hauptman stands and straightens his tie before speaking. “Ian Legend is one of the best strikers in all of MLS. We’re proud of this talent and very proud of his character. I agree, the relationship is not strained. If anything, it’s grown stronger. The Chicago Fire is a family, and like every family, there are highs and lows, but we go through them together. Ian is a man of honor and integrity. We see it every day through his leadership skills on and off the field.”

  Someone off to the side comments that time is up.

  Ian waves to the crowd and steps from the stage as the other Chicago Fire team members come into view. I lower the volume and let Dane continue watching on his own.

  He misses me. We need to get back home. I need to tell him how much of an idiot I’ve been. Like my dad, Ian chooses me. And Ian is a good man. If I’ve learned anything in this hard world, this I know as fact.

  We spend the next few hours getting to know my mom again and introducing her to her grandson. The new improved versions of us without the stress of Justin Wells’s anxiety. It’s a liberating feeling.

  By the time Monday rolls around, we’re back on a flight to Chicago.

  29

  Ian

  “C’mon, man. Get out of this funk you’re in. I don’t like it, and it doesn’t suit you.” Mikael slaps me on the thigh as he tightens the laces on his cleats. Our match starts in an hour, and we’re supposed to be on the field for warm-ups in five minutes.