Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,73
parents exchanged a loaded glance. "All right," my dad said. His hands, big and rough and hardened from the farm, curled around his glass of water. "That's fine. What would you like to talk about, Jude? We're …" His voice stumbled slightly. "We're here to listen."
Lewis finished setting waters in front of Lia, Isabel, and myself and sat in the last free chair at the table, eyeing us carefully.
"Maybe Lewis should tell us why he scheduled this family event," I said.
My brother gave Lia and Isabel a sheepish grin. "Can I blame being drunk at the time?"
I rolled my eyes. "If you drank more than a beer a week, I'd believe that."
"Maybe it was a really strong beer."
"Lewis." Mum sighed. "It's not the time for jokes. Your father and I drove a long way to come down here, took time away from the farm. You said it was important."
"It is." He spread his hands wide. "This is our family, and we're doing a shit job of acting like it. You hate that he plays football, we get it. But he's been playing for over a decade. Bloody hell, move on already."
My brow furrowed at his vehement defense. I'd never heard Lewis—the happy one, the man in the middle of our little mess—speak up for me like that.
He turned to me. "And you, quit walking around like you've got a war to fight every time you see them. They don't understand the game, they don't understand how good you are, and you don't bloody need them to in order to do your job. Let it go."
I clenched my jaw tight and stared down at the table.
"We understand how good he is," my mum said in the loaded silence that followed. The pub wasn't silent, but our table was like a graveyard for how deathly quiet it was. "But you're right, Lewis, we don't understand his life. We don't understand how you can sacrifice all the things that really matter for a game that won't be there for him. Once he's done, once the crowds stop cheering his name, what will he have left? He's pushed away anyone who loves him for the empty praise of strangers."
My eyes lifted slowly to hers, and I felt that fog cloud over my vision for one moment.
From the corner of my vision, I saw Lia and Isabel trade a look. Isabel's beer was gone already. But I never pulled my eyes away from my mum.
"Is that what you think of me?" I asked quietly.
"It's what we know, son," Dad answered. "You changed. And not for the better. You may be a god to them, but to us, you're just the son we don’t even recognize anymore."
"Dad," Lewis said sharply.
Lia leaned forward while I struggled to catch my breath. "How dare you speak to him like that," she said in a frigid tone. Icicles hung from her words. "Shame on you."
My parents stared at her in stunned shock. Hell, so did I.
"I know you're in a relationship with him," my dad said stiffly, "but you've no part in this, Miss."
"She's having my child," I said.
A bomb could've gone off on the table with less dramatic impact than what I'd just said. My mum's eyes fell shut, and my dad's widened. Lewis rubbed his forehead.
"She's a bloody part of this because she's having your first grandchild. Congratulations to both of you," I said smoothly. "And I'll tell you why what you've just said can't touch me, Dad. Because that child will have every-fucking-thing that you never gave me. I will give support. I will give encouragement. I will give anything they need or want because I've learned from you what not to do."
I curled my arm around Lia, whose shoulders were stiff as a plank.
"If my child wants to play football, I'll be at every bloody game. If they want to be a painter, I'll buy every single print. If they want to dance or sing or ... be a farmer, I'll be there every step of the way. Because that's what a good parent does. And you taught me how to be a brilliant one." I shrugged, feeling the fog roll insidiously off my body with each word I hurled at them. "All I have to do is not be like you, and I'll be the best fucking father in the world."
My mum wiped a tear from her face as she stood from the table. "I won't sit and listen to this."
My dad followed, as he