The Problem with Sports - M.E. Clayton Page 0,2

sent me a text to tell you they’ll be Skype calling you later this evening.” Grant smiled his excitement, but quickly focused his attention back on the game.

My parents, Donald and Mindy Miller, were retired and living on a small ranch in Montana. My father used to own a bar, which my brother, Justin, now owns and operates, and my mother used to be a city clerk. They had fallen in love with Montana a few years ago when they’d gone on vacation there, and when they decided to retire last year, that’s where they had chosen to do it.

Justin was thirty-three, but he’s been working at the bar since way before it was legal for him to be. He had begun working there in college, and two years into the collegiate lifestyle, he’d told Mom and Dad he wanted the bar. Even though Justin was older than me by three years, they had asked me how I had felt about it, and when I had made I clear that I’d had no interest in the bar, Dad had brought him onboard, and the rest was history.

And while I had met Steven in college, and had gotten married early, Justin hadn’t gotten married until about three years ago. I was happy for my brother, but it kind of sucked that our children were going to be so gapped in age. Grant was already eight, and while Justin and Nancy were pregnant right now, our kids were going to be damn near ten years apart. Justin might be three years older than me, but I was the one who had gotten an early start with marriage and children.

I headed into the kitchen to start dinner when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and smiled at the name flashing across the screen. Of course, I answered. “Hey.”

“His name is Ted, he’s a real estate developer, he’s divorced with one daughter, and he’s got two brothers.” I closed my eyes, and almost thumped my head against the cabinet overhead.

Instead of giving myself brain damage, or a very big bruise, I let out a deep sigh. Rachel Filmore was my very best friend, and she has been for years. Unfortunately, she was very happily married and that made her think all women needed a man to be happy.

I didn’t agree or disagree.

“Rachel,” I bemoaned, “how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in blind dating?”

“It’s been two years, Andie,” she reminded me, but, trust me, I didn’t need reminding.

I grabbed a frying pan out of the cabinet. “I’m not opposed to meeting someone, Rach,” I replied, feeling like we have this conversation at least once a week. “I just don’t care for blind dating.”

“Ugh,” she sighed dramatically.

I really didn’t have anything against dating, and I wasn’t still hung up on Steven. Yeah, there were still these disheartening moments when the good memories would make random appearances in my mind, but I wasn’t still in love with Steven. And while two years might seem like a long time, it really wasn’t. Not when you had spent those two years picking up the pieces of your broken marriage, while at the same time, learning everything you could about your child’s illness. When Grant and I had moved into this place, almost a year ago, it was the first time since he’d been diagnosed with chILD that I’d felt like I could finally breathe. It had felt like things were finally beginning to settle, and it had felt…reassuring.

I wasn’t sure if Steven was dating anyone right now or not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he were. He wanted more children, and I knew, no matter how many times he’s apologized for the remark, that, deep down, he really wanted another son. One who wasn’t broken. However, we didn’t talk about our personal lives with one another. I dropped off Grant on Thursday evenings, and he dropped Grant off on Sunday evenings. That’s it; no more, no less.

“Look, no more blind dates-”

“Don’t you miss sex?” she asked, prioritizing.

Hell yeah, I missed sex.

“Of course,” I admitted. “But not enough to sit through an uncomfortable dinner, forced conversation, fake interest…you name it. Not to mention, going through all that, only to have the sex suck or be mediocre at best? No, thank you.”

“Fine,” Rachel relented. “Just promise me you’ll make the effort to meet someone, okay?”

I was an independent editor and sometimes author. There was really no need to leave my