out on that field?”
The smile that crosses my mom’s face is one of pride, and it must be contagious because Lily takes on the same expression.
“I do. Remember when he hit that grand slam in the playoffs junior year?” She grins up at me.
My mother nods, laughing. “And his face was so smug as he rounded those bases. That was off that pitcher who’d been throwing insults at him on social media before the game.”
“Cracked my lucky bat in half, but it had been worth it.” I chuckled, somewhat surprised at how light this conversation is.
Typically, when I think about my glory years on the diamond, it’s shaded with bitterness and regret.
But tonight, I’m … having fun remembering the old days.
The rest of dinner goes off without a hitch and leaves us all with smiles on our faces and holding our very full stomachs. When Mr. Carlucci comes over asking if we’d like dessert, we all beg off after having stuffed ourselves with pasta and bread. I pick up the bill like the gentleman I am who is trying to impress both his mother and his girlfriend. And when Mr. Carlucci comes back with my card, he drops off two takeout bags of hot, gooey chocolate chip cookies.
After kissing my mother goodbye and making sure she gets to her car safely, Lily and I head home.
Ten minutes later, as we walk into my house, the topic I’ve been trying to shy away from is at the forefront of Lily’s mind.
“So, you had an interview?” Lily’s trying to be curious, but I know she is hurt that I didn’t tell her about my job search.
Or explain what it might mean for us.
“It was unexpected. Honestly, it wasn’t even scheduled. I spoke with one scout I used to know, and he sent them my way. I probably won’t even get it. I’m not even sure I want it.”
I’m rambling, which is so unlike me, and Lily hasn’t turned to look at me since we walked through the front door.
“Okay. Well, just … keep me in the loop, okay?”
Her voice has a forced lightness to it, and I know I should reassure her, be honest about what my intentions were when I took that interview … but I don’t want to get into it. Just like every other serious issue plaguing our relationship, I push it to the back for just a little while longer.
I nod, crossing to her to take her coat and hang it on the rack.
“Now, let’s dig into that bag of cookies. Better yet, let’s take them to bed.” She smiles, reaching for the takeout bag Mr. Carlucci left with our check.
Thank God she is letting this drop for now. I don’t think I have another fight left in me after the past week of tension with her, and I am being honest. Even if I was offered the position, I’m not sure I’d take it.
Twenty-five minutes later, we’re both in bed, Lily’s face is washed and free of the minimal makeup she wears, and there are chocolate chip cookie crumbs dotting the sheets.
It’s then that she asks me the hardest question she has about the accident, yet she has no idea it’s the most difficult to answer.
“Do you miss him? Your father?” Lily looks up at me, her eyes so innocent. “Being at dinner tonight with your mother, I could feel his presence. It must be very hard for her. For all of you.”
How do I answer that question? Of course, I miss my dad. His death is the second most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced, the first being our accident. It’s a specific kind of torture, losing a parent. Especially for a son to lose his father. I feel like I’ve become untethered like there was this person who anchored me and now I have to make every decision without consulting that source of solidness. There was grief, hurt, anger at him leaving so soon and then there was something else.
Since the day my father had come to me and said stay away from Lily, I’d hated him. A part of me smoldered with the fury I held like a torch for him, and it hadn’t abated to this day. His death had only intensified the feeling because we’d never resolved any of it. The day he revealed the mutually assured destruction pact to me, I’d been so angry that I’d barely spoken to him for months afterward.
On the outside, our relationship may have thawed. But really,