by TC Matson
Lucas’ first game isn’t a home game and what’s worse, April isn’t able to make it. You know that woman is sick if she’s not sitting in the bleachers of a game. Josh came with Jeff, April’s ex-husband who very rarely misses games anyway.
It’s hot. So freaking hot! I’m at the top of the bleachers in the only spot where I won’t be smushed between other parents, but I’m closer to the searing devastation of the sun slamming against my back. I feel like I’m on fire.
I’m watching closely, focused on the game and leaning into my elbows when I’m startled by a vanilla ice cream cone.
Trenton smiles. “Figured you needed something for the heat.”
My surprised eyes falter into furrowed brows. “I’m beginning to think you’re following me.”
He takes a seat beside me. “When I was Lucas’ age, I played. I loved the sport. When I taught at my prior school, I never missed a game. I won’t change that for this school. School pride.”
“People are going to start getting the wrong idea of us.”
He pans the crowd. “Let them. I have nothing to prove to anyone. Besides, where in the handbook does it forbid me to befriend a pupil’s parent?”
“You have the most carefree attitude,” I say.
He wipes his palms against his black plaid shorts. “Best attitude to have. When you start caring what others think of you, it starts making life pretty shitty.”
“The teacher cusses?” I quip abrasively.
“Why are you in a bad mood?”
I cut my eyes to him, silently warning I’m definitely not in the mood.
“He’s pretty good.” He nods toward the field and I’m assuming he’s speaking of Lucas.
“It’s been instilled in his brain. His dad used to play,” I tell him.
“Play by his own choice?”
This warrants a confused expression. “That’s an odd question. But yes. He used to love it.”
“Strange he is never here to support his son since he used to love it and is the one who taught Lucas to love the sport.”
I wrench my head in his direction. “That stung.”
He spreads his hands. “I didn’t direct that toward you, Riley.”
I stare at him in disbelief before exhaling. “I’m not in a good mood.”
“I can tell. You should smile more,” he states allusively.
“Do you always flirt with your students’ parents?”
“No. Just you. Most men don’t like it when I tell them they’re pretty.”
I laugh.
He grins wolfishly. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
I purse my lips at him, scrunching my nose.
The rest of the game we share many what this player should have done, what the coach should do, and how the practice drills need to be focusing on each child’s needs. We laugh at some of the overly exerted outbursts from other parents. But mostly, we sit quietly, in each other’s company, watching the game. And when I ask why he isn’t a soccer coach, he shrugs the question off with an excuse of other subjects to focus on.
He no longer flirts with me, which both relieves and disturbs me. I appreciate the respect, but after a few emotional touches, I sort of miss it.
The time ends. The whistle blows. And our team runs out, jumping up and high fiving one another. I grasp Trenton’s arm and squeal, jumping up and down out of excitement. He chuckles and I grab my bag, tracking down the bleachers as fast as my legs will take me. I stop by the opening in the fence waiting for the teams to finish their game handshake. Then I wait even longer for the coach to discuss different things with the players.
“I always hated this part. When we won, I was ready to get out of there and celebrate, not get lectured,” Trenton whispers beside me.
“This drives me nuts!” I whisper-yell to him.
I tap the top of the metal pole, impatiently waiting for Lucas, until the coach finally ends his damn speech. Lucas strolls up with his black bag over his shoulder, his dirty blond hair slicked back from sweat, face red from the heat, but beaming from ear to ear.
“We kicked their butts!” he exclaims.
I snicker, bumping my hip into him. “It’s nice being the winner, but not so much on the losing end. Be nice.”
“But we won,” he groans.
“And I’m so happy and proud of you. No need to rub salt into their wounds.”
“She’s right,” Trenton says. “Win with pride and dignity. Feel bad for the losing team.”
Lucas’ little face lights up.
“Good win,” Trenton adds and then shifts to me. “Good sitting with you. I hope you have a good week.” His gaze lingers, holding something fierce inside of it. A tingle wraps around my spine and I shudder. His left brow raises and then he looks back to Lucas. “I’ll see you Monday.”
As he walks away, I frown. Part of me wilts. His company has quickly become wanted. He’s fun, light-hearted and he makes me forget about the desolate situation at home.
Since he won, I allow Lucas to choose dinner. Pizza it is! We’re enjoying a supreme, extra cheesy pizza when Brian shows back up. I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning and I haven’t tried getting in touch with him.
“We won!” Lucas hollers as Brian pulls a beer from the fridge.
“That’s great!” Brian sits.
No eye contact. No acknowledging my existence. Nothing.
Even after his first slice of pizza and halfway through the second, still nothing.
Frustration braids together with hurt and it bubbles deeply inside of me. As hard as I’m trying to stay composed, I can feel that I’m slowly losing the battle. I excuse myself and disappear into my bathroom for a long hot bath. It’s my escape. The one place I lose myself into an oblivion. I’m there to relax and forget about all my problems.
I run the water, adding a few drops of Lavender to further my relaxation, slide out of my clothes and dip into the steaming hot water. My muscles release their tension and I rest my head on the back of the tub, closing my eyes.
Normally, I think of a tropical paradise—beach, palm trees, the sound of the waves breaking, rising and falling against the wet sand. Usually, I can see a hammock swaying in the wind, and off in the distance, I can hear the squawk of a seagull. I imagine it so perfectly; I swear I can feel the soft breeze on my face.
Not today.
Not this time.
Today, I see Trenton and all his glorious good looks. He’s leaned against a wall, his taut muscled arms crossed over his buff chest. His face is relaxed, his smile pulling his sexy lips tightly as he’s excited to see me. His hazel eyes shimmer with happiness. And his hair allows the wind to ruffle it.
My eyes bolt open and I’m back in the bathroom. I giggle at myself as I trail my fingers through the water and watch as the wakes ripple out toward the sides of the tub. I close my eyes once more. Again I’m greeted by Trenton, but this time he’s in my hammock wearing bright orange board shorts. I rip open my eyes again and splash some water over my face.
I am not supposed to be thinking of him. He shouldn’t be in my relaxing fantasy.
There’s a click as Brian pushes open the door and sits on the edge of the tub.
“I’m sick of arguing with you,” he says. “Something has to give.”
“I agree.”
“As fucked up as this sounds, work will be coming first before you both for several more years. It will get easier when this job is over.”
“You say that every job,” I remind him.
“I wish for it every job,” he replies. “You’re going to have to figure out a way to deal with me being gone, Riley.”
“I wouldn’t mind it so much if you could be with us every once in a while. And I mean be with us. Not sitting in your recliner, flipping through files, ignoring us and calling that family time. When’s the last time you went to one of Lucas’ games? Or a practice? The very sport you used to love so much that you shoved it in the veins of your son, you show no support for.�
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“I never have time.”
“Make time.”
“I wish I could,” he says.
“Have you ever heard someone wish they worked more on their death bed?”
He shakes his head. “No. But right now, me spending more time with you both won’t happen. I can’t find the time.”
“Then make the time you’re home special,” I say. “Where’d you go today?”
“It’s not important,” he tells me sternly and pushes to his feet, leaving the room.
He’s ruined my mood. I get out, dry off and slide into a pair of comfy pants and a loose shirt. Brian’s sitting on the side of the bed looking out the window when I exit the bathroom.
“Are you cheating on me?” It’s a fair question.
He puffs. “You think I am?”
“All I know is the Brian I love with all my heart is lost somewhere in the shell of his old body. He’s not there anymore. If you were, it would explain a lot.”
“I can barely handle you, let alone another woman.”
“Not if she’s the work you’re always at.”
Time stands still for a moment and then he blinks up to me. “No, Riley. I’m not seeing anyone else.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I hate you think that.”
“I hate you give me a reason to think it,” I admit, coldly.
“You’ve always had a wild imagination.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t creativity at its best. This is how you make me feel.”
“You think things up so definitively you begin to feel them too. All this,” he twirls his hand. “It isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“Coming from the very man who interrupted my bath to tell me he’s tired of arguing. Yeah. I’m sure it’s all my imagination. I’ll work on that.”
He sighs and then exits the room. I watch as the door shuts behind him, confused about where he meant for the conversation to go. For the past few months, this is how we talk. Quick sentences here and there, but never a resolution. Never a compromise.
I’m always left with an open wound, hurt, broken, and uncertain where we stand. I meant my words when I said he was just a shell. He’s empty. I’m empty. We don’t laugh. We barely talk. And there’s not much contact of any sorts without anger. Even under the same roof, we can be standing in the same room and not exchange a look.
Once he used to eye me from across any room. In those very glances, I could feel the depth of his love for me. His stares would pierce my soul and I could feel his want, his need for me. But those very looks dissipated over the years.
I know he’s not the only one who’s changed. I have too. I’ve grown. I’ve become a mom. I’ve molded around his world. What crushes me the most is I feel I’ve become a roommate who occasionally shares an intimate moment with the man she lives with.
I tell Lucas goodnight and grab a bottle of water before heading to bed. I challenge Brian with a broken-hearted stare until he let loose of it first to go back to working. Now, I’ve laid here for what feels like an eternity, begging my mind to settle down and let me sleep. Finally, it agrees and pulls me into emptiness.
Arms wrap around me in the dark, lugging me out of my sleep. Brain scoots my back closer to his chest and rests his head behind mine. I clench his hands and squeeze. Unfortunately, my tears make their presence known.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I do love you, Ri. I don’t ever want you to think differently.”
“I miss you,” I cry. “I miss us.”
He sighs. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”
I swallow but it does nothing to relieve the tightness in my throat. “Please. I’m begging you. I love you. Please help us. I can’t be the only one trying. I need you.”
“You’ve always been the glue that holds us together,” he says with a shaky voice.
“It’s easy when you have two things that can be glued together,” I gasp between tears. “Please…” I plea in my saddened cry.
His breath shakes again, but he doesn’t respond.
“I love you.” My whisper shakes. My body trembles from the sobs and he tightens his grip around me. “If you don’t want to be with me…” I trail off, trying to catch my breath from my sobs. “This is torture,” I squeak.
He kisses the back of my head and holds me tightly while I cry. And when I begin to calm down, he strokes my hair, helping me to relax in his arms and allowing me to fall back to sleep.
Chapter 10
Surprisingly, after my meltdown, Brian took off yesterday and spent the day with us. We talked during breakfast, picked and played with each other, and when he took Lucas outside to kick the soccer ball, I swallowed the lump in my throat. I hadn’t seen that in a long while and I couldn’t tell you how long I watched them, but I enjoyed every second of it.
During dinner, Brian didn’t sit in his normal head of the table seat. Instead, he sat beside me and across from Lucas. He squeezed my leg under the table and smiled every chance he got. He even helped clean up the kitchen, and that came with flirty fun and loving kisses.
Once Lucas went to bed, we retreated to the bedroom, where for the first time in a very long time, Brian made love to me. It wasn’t just sex. It was intimate love. Soft and sensual movements. Every thrust offered loving affection. Every touch offered a sense of importance. He growled how much he loved me all the way to the end, and as we lay tangled up together, he was still pouring out his feelings.
My Brian…he’s back.
I’m cleaning the living room, dancing and bouncing my duster to the music when my cell phone rings.
“Hey,” I answer with a goofy grin.
“Hey,” Brian says. “Figured I’d call you and tell you that you’re on my mind.”
My chest swells.
“Also, I’m going to be late,” he adds.
My inflated, filled with giddiness chest loses its swell. “Oh,” I say trying not to sound so devastated. After all, this is his norm. I shouldn’t expect anything different. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just work,” he replies monotone.
“I’ll make you a plate and leave it in the microwave for you,” I say.
“Thanks. Listen, I have to go. Love you,” he says rushing off the phone.
“I love you too.”
He hangs up.
I sigh. Even under a new leaf, there’s still a sting to his words. Regardless of how much we’re working together to make things better and to change our ways, the typical pattern has an ugly jab. I should be used to it, but I’ll never become complacent with being unable to see the man I love.
The coach informed the kids that today will be warm ups, drills, and a short scrimmage. Everyone’s faces light up, eager to get to play the short game. He places several kids in different groups and, from what I can gather, he teams up the timid players with the braver kids to help them overcome their fears.
“How are things at the homebound?” April ask adjusting in her seat.
“Better,” I tell her. “Friday blew up like a grenade in my hand, but Sunday turned out to be marvelous. He actually spent time with us.”
Her lips stretch widely. “Maybe a dose of his own medicine is what he needed?”
I shrug. “He was highly pissed Friday and made me realize how dumb of an act I played, but I’d do it again if these are the results.”
“I hope it works. You two used to be—”
“What the hell is he doing here?” I exclaim, leaping to my feet.
I can’t contain the grin ripping across my lips. My heart drums in my chest. Striding across the grass with his shoulders back and black hair bouncing with his steps, Brian locks eyes with me and smirks. I leap, wrapping my arms around his neck as he approaches us.
“What are you doing here?” I can’t hide the elation in my voice.
He squeezes me. “Came to watch Lucas practice.”
I find my footing. “I thought you had to work late.”
He shrugs o
ne shoulder with a cheeky smile. “I got off early.”
I’m beside myself and cling to his arm as we take a seat in the bleachers beside my chair.
“Hello, stranger,” Aprils says.
He tips his head. “April.” His tone is neutral.
“It’s good to see you here,” she says trying to ignore the weirdness between them.
Brian knows I tell her things. She’s my best friend. She’s going to know all the good and the bad. April is a little reserved around him because she knows what I go through. Regardless of how many times she offers a fake smile and tells me she’s happy we’re getting along, I know she can’t stand him.
“Me too.” His response is clipped as he glances back to the field. “How does Lucas do with these relay races?”
“Very well.”
Brian leans his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his fists, watching…intently. “He needs to get better with turning. There’s a pause.”
“I know someone who used to be the next David Beckham who could teach him,” I thrum.
The corner of his lips quirk, but he doesn’t look over to me. “I’ll give him a few tips.”
He remains focused, scooted to the edge of the metal seat the rest of the time, and I think he might lose himself while the boys scrimmage for the last twenty minutes of practice. He spots all the timid players, all the mistakes the coach doesn’t call, and quietly cusses the coach under his breath. I know the deep adoration he has for the sport, so I’m not about to tell him this is the best coach this team has had in a long time.
Lucas comes bounding toward us, gleaming. “Dad! You came.”
Brian tucks Lucas’ head into a headlock and chuckles. “You looked good out there. I hear the pros calling you now.”
Lucas gawks when Brian lets loose. “That would be super cool.”
“It’ll happen. Especially if you keep this up.” He slaps Lucas on the shoulder.
Trenton pops out from behind the second set of bleachers and calls out to Lucas. My insides flutter and immediately I’m overwhelmed by an odd sense of guilt. I’ve never told Brian about Trenton and Lucas’ friendship, or ours for that matter.