Game On

by Victoria Denault

  “Ovarian cancer. That’s how she died. And I don’t have a dad because he was a sperm donor. From a clinic, not like a one-night-stand kind of sperm donor,” I explain sharply. “I’m not trying to make you feel weak or hurt you, Alex. And I wouldn’t bring up all this shit except that I think that we’ve lived through the same shit.”

  “Why? Because we’re both from Quebec? Big deal. I’m sure there’s a bunch of orphans in Quebec,” he mutters, twisting his shirt in his hands. “I can name four that I lived with. Jayla, Andre, Kenny. Of course they’re all dead now. Jayla ran away because the foster monster was touching her, became a prostitute and was killed by her pimp. Kenny overdosed, and Andre was killed after he joined a gang.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I whisper in horror at the pure tragedy.

  “Exactly. That’s why I hate talking about it. I truly fucking hate it. So can you please just stop.”

  He grabs me roughly by the waist and pulls me into him, dipping his head to bury it in my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my mouth against his neck softly. His pulse beats rapidly under my lips. “You can talk about your past. Tell me whatever you need to or want to and I will listen but please, don’t try to dig up mine.”

  I hear a noise downstairs. A rattle, a click, a thump. It’s the front door. Shit! Mackenzie is home. We both stare at each other in fear. He’s barely dressed. I’m not dressed at all. Oh crap! I put my hands on his chest and push him back into the corner of the room behind the door. “Stay here until I can distract her and then sneak out. I don’t want her to find out like this.”

  He nods. I rush to my bedroom door and scurry down the hall, reaching the stairs just as she’s shrugging out of her coat and toeing off her boots. I hate that ratty coat of hers and I keep telling her I want to buy her a new one, but she doesn’t want me to. She says I’ve done enough. It’s still got the rip in it from when she hurt herself. I smile trying to look casual. “Did you have a good time with my parents?”

  She nods. “They’re cool people. And your mom makes great food. She gave me cupcakes to bring home.”

  She pulls a Tupperware container out of her backpack. She looks at me again, her eyes sweeping up and down, taking in my outfit. I play with the tie on my robe and lie. “I was going to take a shower.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She walks past me, toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna eat another cupcake and watch TV.”

  “Sure.” I should ask her if her homework is done and make her do it before TV and sugar, but right now I need her tucked away at the back of the house so Alex can leave.

  She pauses and looks at me again. I feel like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She heads into the kitchen. As soon as she’s out of view I rush back to my room and swing open the door. I motion for Alex to come and he does. He’s got his boots on now and his jacket in his hand. His shirt is on inside out and backward. We both tiptoe down the stairs and into the front hall. I watch him reach for the front door, opening it but pausing to look back at me. That pained, suffering look is on his face again—the one that makes me believe he tortures himself with his own thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “So am I,” I reply because there’s so much more I want to say but it’s not the time now. Maybe it never will be.

  He bends down and kisses me quickly then disappears out the door, leaving nothing but cold night air in his wake. I sigh, lock the door and turn around to find Mackenzie standing at the end of the hall holding a half-eaten cupcake and a glass of milk, staring at me with a knowing look in her eyes.

  “Called it!” she announces and then disappears into the living room.

  Chapter 20

  Brie

  My front door opens and I glance over to see Len walk in, her arms loaded with grocery bags. There’s a bunch of balloons tied to her wrist too. She went overboard, clearly, and that’s why I love her. I smile. “You’re too much.”

  She grins. “She’s probably never had balloons. Every kid should have balloons at least once in her life.”

  “True.”

  “I’m the coolest aunt in the world,” Len proclaims. “It’s a role I’ve always wanted to play and now that I have my chance I’m not giving it up.”

  I watch her as she walks toward me and into the kitchen, the balloons banging against the chandelier in the hall and the opening to the kitchen. She drops the grocery bags on my tiny kitchen table. “Premade party platters and almost every chip flavor in the store. Oh and guac. Every party is better with guac.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” I start to unpack the groceries as she begins to untie the balloons from her wrist. “So I got her a fifty-dollar gift card to Sephora because what teenage girl—or hell grown woman for that matter—doesn’t love that place? And also the cutest loungewear I’ve ever seen. Oh and a poster of a Banksy piece because she said loved his work. You better let her hang it on her bedroom wall. With thumbtacks. Don’t be like my mom and insist on the gummy glue stuff that always falls off. Let the kid be a kid and put holes in your walls.”

  “She can use tacks, I promise. And that’s a very generous gift,” I can’t help but mention.

  “I told you I’m going for the best aunt in the universe. Also the craziest and the funnest,” Len explains. “And yes I know ‘funnest’ isn’t a word.”

  I smile. Len suddenly stops and lets the balloons rise to the ceiling. She looks me dead in the eye and I freeze with a tub of guacamole in my hand. “You’re keeping her, right?”

  “I don’t know,” is my answer because I don’t. Having Mackenzie here has been a lot of work in some ways and no work at all in others. And I like her. A lot. I kind of adore her actually.

  “You’ve always said you wanted to foster,” Len reminds me. “She’s a good kid. Her rough edges are totally buffable. She likes you. You’re financially and emotionally stable. You should keep her.”

  “‘Buffable’?” I have to chuckle at her choice of word. “I’m definitely considering asking her if she wants to stay. But it’s up to her. The judge may let her move into Daphne’s House and what independent kid is going to pick living with a boring spinster over getting their freedom?”

  “You’re not a spinster! You’re dating a hot, rich professional athlete,” Len exclaims dramatically. “She’ll say yes because the two of you are the foster parent jackpot and Mac’s not stupid. She knows it.”

  “She doesn’t get both of us. Legally, she just gets me. And I think she likes him more,” I kid, but it’s kind of true. I don’t blame her. Alex saved her.

  “Well, he’ll be around if she sticks with you,” Len says. “And she gets me. And Helena and Baxter, who are the coolest foster grandparents a kid could ask for. They make up for any lameness she might think you have.”

  I full on burst out laughing at her now. “Thanks for that.”

  “What are best friends for?” she coos back. “Now can we get back to your sexy boyfriend? How are things going?”

  “Good.” It’s only been a couple of days since Mac caught us, but he’s hung out here with us both nights. Even though she knows and doesn’t seem bothered, I suggested he still not spend the night yet and he agreed. I haven’t brought up anything about our childhood, but I’ve wanted to. “We’re still in the getting-to-know-you phase, I guess. And it could take a while because Alex is kind of private.”

  “Yeah well I’m betting you’re not exactly an open book.” Len jumps for the dangling balloon strings to pull them down from the ceiling. “Have you told him about your past?”

  “I’ve told him most of it, yeah.” I go back to unpacking the groceries.

  “Did you tell him your stance on kids? You know, the biological kind?”

  I shake my head. “It hasn’t come up. We’ve only been together for like a millisecond.”

  Len jumps again, grabbing the last balloon string and then pushes her hair out of her face. She walks over to the dining table and starts tying them to a chair. “I’m
thinking you should tell this one sooner rather than later. He’s a pro-athlete. Don’t those guys always want to spread their seed and create mini-mes to carry on their athletic dynasty?”

  I make a face at her choice of expression. “They’re not cavemen, Len.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe not but still, I would lay that out. Don’t get me wrong, I understand your logic and I agree with it. But if you want him to be an open book, you should be too.”

  I just nod and turn around to find my chip bowl. Leave it to Len to make perfect sense. He said I could talk about my past so I will. I’ll tell him that there’s a hereditary component to ovarian cancer and that’s why I won’t have my own kids. I can only hope he’ll take me seriously, unlike Victor.

  “He’s still coming this afternoon, right?” Len asks.

  I nod and pour one of the bags of chips she bought into the bowl. “He’s with her now. She’s in his running group and they’ll come back here together.”

  The doorbell rings. It’s got to be my parents because those are the only other people invited. Len rushes to the front door to let them in. They greet Len the way they always do—with giant hugs, like she’s their second daughter. And they greet me with the same affection. I don’t know what happened in that foster home when I was four, but I’m glad it did, because if it hadn’t, these two wouldn’t be my parents.

  We spend the next half hour setting up and putting out the food and then, just as I’m paying the pizza delivery guy, Alex appears on the front steps. I look behind him for Mackenzie, but I don’t see her. He smiles at me. “Hey! Am I late?”

  He bends down to kiss me but I don’t let his lips touch mine. “Where is she?”

  He blinks. “What?”

  I step onto the stoop and glance down the street. “Is she still at Daphne’s?”

  “What? No.” He’s as confused as I am. “She didn’t come to running group. Was she supposed to?”

  “Oh fuck.” I turn and leave him on the stoop as I run back into the house and straight for her room. It’s clean. Her bed is made, the clothes I’ve bought her are folded on the bed, her school books are stacked neatly on the desk, but her knapsack is gone and so is her coat. There’s a piece of paper torn from a notebook in the center of her desk. I walk over and read the note.

  Thank you for everything. I mean it.

  “Alex, she’s gone.”

  I don’t let myself cry until three in the morning as Len and I walk down what feels like the millionth alley. My feet and back ache, but not nearly as deeply as my chest does. And as reality settles in, the ache grows deeper. “I’m going to have to call the cops in the morning and report her. And Laurie will have to tell the judge. Even if they find her, she won’t be allowed back with me.”

  “Can’t you wait to tell them?” Len asks, and when I shake my head the first tear tumbles.

  “I can’t. I have to follow the rules. I don’t want to lose my ability to foster,” I explain, although I’d rather throw my heart into a food processor than even think about doing this again. It would be less painful. I wipe at the tears and Len walks over and hugs me, smashing my face into the puffy down of her black ski jacket and she rubs my back with her mitten-covered hand.

  “You should go home,” I tell her. “You can look in the morning.”

  My parents stayed at my place in case Mac comes back. Len insisted on coming with me and now she’s refusing to go. “I am not leaving you out here alone. As long as you’re out here, I’m out here.”

  “Thank you.” I sniff and wipe at more tears. “We’re stupid to think we’ll find her in this city.”

  Len shakes her head and readjusts her wool cap. “We have to try,”

  My phone rings. I have the volume set on high to ensure I don’t miss it since it’s tucked into the pocket of my wool coat. It echoes off the concrete walls. I rush to pull off my wool gloves so I can answer it and drop one on the litter-strewn ground but I don’t care. It’s Alex.

  “I’ve got her.”

  My whole body floods with relief and my eyes blur with tears. “Thank God. Is she okay? Where are you?”

  Len starts to jump up and down in excitement. “She’s being an asshole, but she’s fine. We’re heading back to your place.”

  “We’re on our way.” I hang up and grab Len’s arm. “He’s bringing her home.”

  I burst through my front door ten minutes later and march through the townhouse and find them in the kitchen. She’s at the table, a plate of snacks from her now defunct party on a plate in front of her. She looks up at me, her expression cold. But her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and her nose is red. I notice a wad of used tissue on the table beside her plate. She’s been crying.

  “Your parents went home but said to call them if you need them,” Alex says. I nod, my eyes still glued to Mackenzie.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. It’s the first question my parents always asked me in a crisis or drama and this feels like both.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m going to head home,” Len announces from behind me and I feel her give my shoulders a squeeze. “Happy birthday.”

  Mackenzie looks up at Len and her eyes start to water and she looks away. A minute later I hear the front door close. I lean against the archway, suddenly exhausted. “Why would you do this?”

  Alex stands up and reaches for me as he glances over at Mac, who is staring at the floor. “Tell her what you told me,” he demands before pulling me off the wall and giving me a strong, warm hug and kissing the top of my head as he gently pushes me down into the chair he vacated across from Mackenzie.

  “Mac,” Alex says her name sharply. “Tell her what you told me.”

  “I couldn’t do this fucking birthday thing,” she says in a choked voice. “You made a fucking cake and you were all going to get me presents and there’s no point. I don’t know what’s going to happen down the road, but chances are at some point I won’t have a house and I’ll probably end up pawning whatever nice shit you give me because I’m not going to get into Daphne’s House. Not anytime soon and you’ve got him now, and you’ll want to get your life back and be a normal couple. You’re too young to have a kid like me. You were just doing him a favor probably because you liked him. And now you’re, like, together which is great because you’re both awesome, but I’m a third wheel and the stupid asshole judge won’t let you put me in Daphne’s House and I don’t have anywhere to go. I stayed up all night worrying and then I realized I needed to just go. I shouldn’t hang around because it was just going to make it worse. So I left…”

  “You created a whole shitload of drama in that head of yours, Mac,” Alex says.

  “I told you, it’s not drama. It’s fucking fact.”

  “Language!” I bark and she looks stunned by that, like the rules suddenly don’t apply. I reach across the table and grab her hand. “Are you happy here?”

  “What?”

  “With me. In this house. Are you happy?”

  Her tiny shoulders lift toward her ears and then drop. “I hate school, but I always hate school wherever I go and I’m too young to drop out yet, so it is what it is. But I finally like coming home from school. I mean…you aren’t mean or high and the rules aren’t stupid.”

  “Because I love having you here and I want you to stay.” I squeeze her hand under mine. “If you’re okay with it, I think we should decide to forget talking to the judge about Daphne’s until next year, when you’re sixteen. He’s more likely to let you live there then anyway. And so let’s both agree to keep this arrangement and we can discuss it again next year. Discuss. Together. Do not assume you know what I’m thinking and make a decision on your own, okay?”

  She nods, but she looks skeptical. The scar weaving its way through the caramel skin of her forearm catches my eye. I lean farther forward and lay my hand over it. “Here’s a little secret I haven’t told you. The only kids I ever intend to have are foster kids. Now granted, I didn’t expect to have one so soon, but I adore you
, Mac. I’m happy with this. With you.”

  She tears up again but quickly brushes them away with the back of her hand.

  “I told you, you big dummy,” Alex says to her, trying to be lighthearted but his voice is thick.

  Mac gets up and leans into me, hugging me tightly. Every single fiber of my being warms like it’s in the hot summer sun. “Go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers before she pulls away.

  “Get some sleep because we have a birthday do-over in the morning,” I say and watch her disappear from the room. Then I cover my face with my hands and exhale a shuddering breath. I feel Alex’s hands under my elbows and he pulls me to my feet and into his arms.

  “I didn’t know you don’t want to have biological kids,” he murmurs against the top of my head. I try not to bristle because I can’t decipher his tone and that makes me nervous.

  I look up at him. “Ovarian cancer and breast cancer can be caused by a gene mutation that can be passed on to children. Even though my grandmother died of ovarian cancer and had the mutation, my mom didn’t get tested.”

  “And she had it.”

  “She did and she died.”

  He studies my face and I can see the color drain from his. “And you have it?”

  “I was tested.” I pause and feel that familiar sense of frustration. “And then I decided I didn’t want the results yet, so I never picked them up from my doctor’s office. I’m a coward like my mom. I want to live in oblivion. But I’m smarter about it because I’m not going to orphan any kids if I do have it and get sick.” He looks at me with a strange expression I can’t read, and I’m too exhausted to try. “I need sleep.”

  “Me too. I have to meet with those stupid producers tomorrow,” he tells me and keeps his arm wrapped around me so I’m snugly tucked under his shoulder as we walk downstairs to the front door.