But at the end of his ramble, I hear him say something about my girlfriend.
“What girlfriend?” I say, surprised.
“That chick that you waved at in the stands. And she was with a kid. Wow, man, I didn’t know you had a kid already. How long have you been together? You sure been keeping this chick on the down low. I mean I only saw her this year, and I’m a huge sports news hound. I never saw her show up at all. How did you manage getting all those other chicks while dating that girl the whole time?”
I’m totally flabbergasted. I don’t know what to say. My mind is racing. He thinks Sam is my kid or something? What a weird thing to think.
“What makes you think I’ve been with her for years?”
“Well, that’s your kid, isn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“He looks exactly like you, dude. Just like a miniature version of you, actually. Hell, put a football in his hand and I don’t think you’d be able to tell the difference between you two.”
“Huh,” is all I can think of saying.
Jimmy eventually wanders away to chat at someone else.
I’m left staring at my locker. Now that Jimmy’s mentioned it, Sam does look a lot like me. Well, he looks like the child Lauren and I would have.
And he’s what… five years old?
And the last time Lauren and I had sex in college was six years ago, so accounting for Sam being a few months older than five years even, and accounting for the gestation period… Holy shit, is he my kid?
But, no…
He couldn’t be. I mean, sure Lauren ran out on me during college, but I’m starting to think she must have had her reasons.
What I’m trying to say is there’s no way Lauren could have had my kid and then simply not told me about. That doesn’t sound like her.
But then again she was and still is fiercely independent. She always felt like she had to solve all her problems herself.
But now that we’re seeing each other (and I think we’re still both not sure exactly what that means), there’s simply no way she would have continued to keep the secret from me. It just doesn’t make sense.
21
Lauren
“Mom, we’re landing!” says Sam, overwhelmed with excitement. He’s been like this the entire trip so far.
The plane’s landing gears bump onto the runway, and we start decelerating rapidly.
I’ve been feeling nauseous and sick the entire ride. I would have never thought I’d be someone who’s scared of flying. Maybe it has more to do with this dread that’s been hanging over me—worrying about the Dylan and Sam situation.
I feel like I’ve gone this far without telling either of them that there’s no turning back now.
Sam’s really chatting away as we continue to slow down in the plane, and I’m doing everything I can not to throw up. I thought people usually feel sick up in the air, not once they’re on the ground.
When we finally taxi to our terminal, relief spreads over me.
Dylan is waiting for us by the exit of the airport, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“These are for you,” he says.
“You’re so sweet,” I say, giving him a kiss.
“Eww,” says Sam.
“Calm down, kiddo,” says Dylan. “I got something for you too.”
He hands Sam a football. Sam’s eyes light up and grow wide. I hate to admit it, but I’d never thought to buy Sam a football. He’s always been so interested in machines, remote control cars, and things like encyclopedias.
“And that’s not just any football,” says Dylan. “That’s one from the other day’s game.”
“You mean they used it yourself?”
“Yup, I used it myself.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Dylan,” I say, giving him a kiss.
“I thought maybe we could go out to eat first,” says Dylan.
“I thought we were going to make more scrambled eggs at your house,” says Sam, playing with his football, tossing it up in the air and catching it himself.
“Well, we can do that too,” says Dylan.
We drive through Seattle, and Sam and I both marvel at the buildings. It’s so clean here.
This could have been my life after college, if I hadn’t run away, so intent on doing everything by myself.
“It’s a beautiful city,” I say.
I wonder if Dylan’s thinking the same thing I am: that this could have been my life—our life.
Sam’s asking all sorts of questions about everything he sees, and it’s cute watching Dylan try his best to answer all the questions. Usually Sam tires out adults with his questions, but Dylan seems to have infinite patience.
“Well,” says Dylan, when we finally arrive at his apartment. “This is the place.”
“You cleaned it!”
The whole place is completely sparkling clean. Every single thing has been put away in its proper place, and frankly it looks like Dylan threw out a bunch of the accumulated junk that I saw when he showed me over the computer.
“Why don’t you unpack your stuff and put it away in your room, Sam,” I say.
Dylan shows him the room, and comes back a moment later.
We kiss, and embrace, our hands running all over each other. No matter what, we can’t keep our hands off each other.
“Hey,” says Dylan, pulling away from me slightly for a moment. “I have to ask you something. Who is Sam’s Dad?”
“I don’t… I don’t really want to get into it.” I don’t feel comfortable making up lies about some other guy that I met.
“So it’s not me?”
This surprises me. Does Dylan suspect something?
I shake my head to give a negative response, but I don’t feel comfortable actually speaking the words of the lie.
“Ok,” says Dylan. “That’s all I needed to know. I believe you, and trust you completely. It’s just that some guys were saying that Sam sure does look a lot like me. And the timing would have been about right. But I know there must have been other men in your life.”
“You were always the most important one for me,” I say.
Sam comes back out of his room, and he and Dylan start working on the scrambled eggs. I guess it’s going to be a sort of brunch. Dylan was so sweet and went out and bought fresh oranges so we could have fresh juice, not to mention some type of special organic Seattle coffee, which Dylan assures me is some of the best in the entire world. I normally just drink instant, so probably anything will be a huge step up from my typical morning cup.
I watch them, as I’m standing by the side, lost in my own thoughts. They get along so well.
Sam really does look almost exactly like Dylan.
I felt terrible when Dylan said he completely trusted me. That means that if I do tell him about Sam, he’ll probably never forgive me.
“You going to help, mom?” says Sam, his fingers covered in eggshells. He doesn’t quite know how to crack the shells yet without getting them everywhere, making a huge mess.
“Yeah, Lauren, you going to help or what?”
It’s so nice to see the huge smiles on both their faces, as if asking me to help is some huge joke.
“Sure,” I say, grabbing an apron from where it’s hanging on the wall and tying it on. “I think you boys could use a couple basic kitchen lessons.”
“You think you can teach the master scrambled egg chef a few tricks?”
“You better watch out,” I say. “I can make some mean eggs myself.”
‘They’re not better than Dylan’s, though, mom,” says Sam. “No offense.”
I start laughing. “I’m glad he can make something better than me. Maybe you can do all the cooking this trip, Dylan. I can wear the apron and act as supervisor.”
“Sounds like a deal,” says Dylan, smiling. He’s reaching out to hug me, but he’s somehow covered in flower, from the pancakes he wanted to mak
e. “But I might need to call in your expertise when we move beyond the scrambled eggs.”
“These aprons are new, aren’t they?”
“Bought them this morning,” says Dylan.
“I thought so. You don’t seem like the apron kind of guy.”
“Well, I thought they’d make the whole thing more fun.”
We’re all laughing over the next hour as we make a complete mess of the kitchen. Dylan doesn’t seem to mind in the least bit when Sam drops all the eggs on the floor. We all just laugh it off and make up a new batch.
The meal turns out to be really good, although some might call the pancakes burnt. To me, they’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten. But that just goes to show you it’s often more about who you’re with than what you’re doing or the food you’re eating.
“So you have the big game tomorrow?” I say.
“Yeah, and I already got tickets for you two.”
“Are they the same seats as last time?” Sam’s eyes are wide. He really loved going to the game.
I’m glad Sam’s getting so into football. Maybe it’ll help him have some more friends in school. After all, it’s an easy way for boys his age to connect. He could play football with some friends at recess, for instance.
“I think they’re even better,” says Dylan. “Since this is a home game, they’re the best seats in the house.”
“The very best?”
“The very best.”
We spend another hour or so just laughing and joking around in the kitchen as we clean it up. Sam helps Dylan dry the dishes, but Dylan won’t let me do much. He says I’m still on supervisor duty. It’s a cute way of giving me a break for once from all the household chores I’ve been so occupied with the last six years.
22
Dylan
We spend a great afternoon just enjoying each other’s company. It’s great having Lauren out here, but somehow Sam really brightens up everything an extra notch. I’m really started to get attached to this kid, even if he’s not my own. There’s something special about him.
I drive Lauren and Sam downtown and take them on a walking tour through Seattle.
Lauren and I sample a few different types of coffee, and Lauren even lets Sam have a little bit. After just a few sips, he won’t stop talking about football at rapid speed. It’s amazing how much he’s learned. He can now recite to me all the statistics of every player on The Rabbits. I can’t even come close to that myself.
I guess there are some players who might know their own stats, and the stats of their competitors, but I’ve never been one of those players.
We all eat dinner at a seafood place. It’s not as if I have any serious pre-game rituals, but I have noticed sometimes that I seem to play better after eating seafood. Not sure why, but maybe it has something to do with some special nutrients that it has. I’ve never been that into nutrition, except that I know I need to eat plenty in order to compete well.
“I wish I had your metabolism,” says Lauren. “That’s your third lobster tonight.”
“You don’t need my metabolism, you look amazing as it is. Plus, they’re always making me run around a field for some reason, tackling big sweaty guys. That tends to burn up all the lobsters you can eat.”
Lauren laughs, and Sam launches into an explanation of what a calorie is. Thinking back to my high school chemistry, I’m not sure he’s totally got it right, but he’s pretty close for a five year old.
“You sure are smart, Sam,” I say.
“I’m always telling him that,” says Lauren.
We drive slowly back through the city, so that Sam can look at all the lights of Seattle through the car window.
“Seattle sure is a lot nicer than Baltimore,” says Sam.
We put him to bed when we get back. He may be an unusually smart kid, but he gets tired like all the rest of them.
“I really like hanging out with you and Sam,” I say.
“Yeah, you two get along like two peas in a pod,” she says.
She brushes her hair back behind her ear on one side, and steps closer to me.
“You’ve got a big day tomorrow, don’t you?”
“They say it’s going to be a really important game.”
“I wish I understood football like Sam does.”
“There’s not much too it. We try to get the ball to the other side of the field, and the other team tries to stop us. Then we switch it up, and we try to stop them from doing the same thing.”
Lauren laughs, and she looks amazingly beautiful in the soft light that’s coming from the kitchen, streaming into the living room, illuminating her soft delicate features.
“I’ve never heard it explained so concisely,” she says.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down on the sofa, and taking her hand and pulling her towards me.
She sits down next to me, curling up with her head in my lap.
“Looks like someone’s excited,” she says, patting my cock, which is rock hard.
What can I say? Having her head in my lap just gives me too many ideas. But I want to ask her something important… I’m worried I’ll just drift off to sleep if we have sex now, and then I won’t get a chance to ask her before the big game tomorrow.
Maybe I should wait and ask her after the game… If she says no, it might screw with me tomorrow on the field, messing up my concentration. But I’ve never really been one to put football before everything else in my life. That’s just the way I am.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says. “You look very handsome.”
“I wanted to ask you something,” I say. “I mean, I know you and Sam just got out here today, but…” I trail off. I wanted to put this exactly right. I even had picked out a poem that I was going to recite. But right now my head is all clouded up and it feels like I can’t think straight let alone recite a poem from memory.
I guess this is what it feels like to get really nervous. I’m surprised at myself—I don’t normally get this nervous. Sure, there are some mild jitters before a big game once in a while, but nothing like this.
“I was hoping you and Sam would move out here to Seattle with me. You could live in the apartment with me.” I end up just blurting it out like this. Definitely not the most eloquent way to say it.
I’m watching Lauren intently, to see how she’ll react.
To my horror, her body seems to freeze up completely. She pulls her head up so that she’s sitting next to me on the couch. Now, our bodies aren’t touching at all.
My cock, of course, sinks back down. Shit. This isn’t the reaction I was expecting from Lauren. I feel all cold all over. I already know what she’s going to say.
“Sorry,” I say. “I guess it’s too early.”
“I…I don’t know what to say, Dylan,” says Lauren. She must be able to see that I’m horribly disappointed.
“I just…I really…I mean I’d love it if every day could be like this with you and Sam.”
“But you know it won’t be like that,” says Lauren. “This is a vacation, but the day to day is so much different. I mean most of the time I’m at work.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have to work if you came to live here. I mean, my salary can easily cover the apartment.” Hell, I’d offer to give her half of all my money, which is quite a bit, just sitting in the bank as it is, if I thought it would help convince her. I know she’s too self-reliant for anything like that, though.
“I’d still have to work,” says Lauren. “I still have my student debts, and I’ve got to save for Sam’s college. It’s far away, but at the rate I’m earning it’s going to take a very, very long time. I’ve never had the time or money to get another degree that I could make money with, or any type of certification.”
She’s crossing her arms in front of her. It feels completely cold and dead between us. Did I make a huge mistake? I didn’t think it would end up this way.
<
br /> “I’m sorry, Dylan,” says Lauren. “It’s a very nice offer, but I just can’t do it.”
“Ok,” I say, pausing for a moment. “I just…I thought this was going somewhere, this relationship.”
“I think it could…”
“But how can it if you’re living across the entire country?”
“I don’t know,” says Lauren. “Let’s just go to bed. You’ve got a big game tomorrow, and you need your rest.”
“Ok.”
We get into bed together, but we don’t touch. I reach out to touch her on the shoulder once, but she pulls away from me, and curls up on the very edge of the opposite side of the bed from me.
Shit. I guess I really fucked everything up.
Lauren and Sam are both still asleep in the morning when I wake up.
I leave a note for Lauren about how to get to the stadium, and how she can pick up the tickets. I’m sure she could figure it all out herself, but I guess I just want to communicate with her, especially after last night.
I don’t feel like myself when I get to the stadium for warm up.
Coach is lecturing me about something, but I’m barely listening. The couple words I catch have to do with the other team really trying to bash me up real good so that I won’t be an asset to The Rabbits anymore.
Whatever, as if I can’t handle some guys trying to tackle me?
I’ve taken some good hits on the field, not to mention off the field too.
If shit goes wrong, I can just start a brawl, right? No, I mean it doesn’t work like that in football. Maybe I should have been a hockey player, because right now I feel like I need to get some frustration out, and having a fight during a game would be a perfect way to do that.
Everyone else is joking and jovial in the locker-room, but I’m completely silent, lost in my own thoughts.
I just can’t believe Lauren doesn’t want to move in with me. Why did she visit me in Seattle then, if she didn’t think this relationship was really going somewhere?
And if she does think the relationship is headed somewhere, how can she expect it to work if she’s all the way over there in Baltimore? I mean, I think I could make it work, but it’s more about her intentions. Why stay in Baltimore, anyway? Her parents don’t live there, and she’s just working all the time—it’s not as if she has a huge circle of friends or something.
Football Baby: A Secret Baby Romance Page 14