a Mrs. Mistretta staying in the room with Mr. Mistretta.”
Jensen’s mouth flew open. How could that be? She watched her mother’s face, but instead of shock and surprise, she saw hurt and sadness. “I don’t care. I want the key.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” He shook his head with a solemn look on his face.
“Well, fine. Just tell me the room number.”
“Very well, 324.”
“Jensen.” Laura whirled around and held out her hand. “Let’s go.”
“If you wish, the little girl can wait in the lobby. I could watch her for you.”
Laura kept walking. “I don’t leave my daughter with strangers.”
As they stepped into the elevator, Jensen hugged her mother. “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t a child, she wasn’t naive. After all, she was almost thirteen.
“It’s okay. Some things never change.”
Her mother’s hopeless words brought tears to Jensen’s eyes. She loved her father, but she knew he did things that made her mother sad. She’d overheard many of their arguments.
When the elevator stopped, Laura took off down the hall, still holding Jensen’s hand. She checked the room numbers, then sped up, zeroing in on 324. “Stand over there.” Laura pointed down the hall about ten yards.
Jensen moved to the spot her mother indicated and waited while she knocked sharply on the door. She heard her father ask, “Who is it?”
“Room service.”
Her mother’s retort brought a nervous giggle to Jensen’s lips.
When the door opened, she could hear her father’s gasp of surprise. “Laura!”
Her mother looked past him into the hotel room. “Well, I can see you’re busy.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.” He peered around the door toward Jensen. “Hello, honey.” She could see her father’s face was flushed a bright red. Whatever he’d been doing, he was embarrassed to be caught. “Hold on.”
The door shut in her mother’s face and Jensen’s heart broke for her when Laura Wilder covered her face with both hands. “Mother, I…”
Jerking her hands down, she held out one arm, palm up. “Don’t move. Stay right there. This won’t take long.”
“Are we leaving?”
Laura didn’t get a chance to answer before Gable Mistretta came out of the room, buttoning his shirt which wasn’t tucked into his jeans. “You don’t have to leave,” he told his wife. Pointing over his shoulder, he frowned. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t mean anything?” She hit Gable in the chest with the flat of her palm. “We don’t mean anything to you.”
Her father glanced at her, then made a shushing noise to her mother. “Don’t say that, it isn’t true. I’m glad you’re here.”
“We were worried about you, Daddy,” Jensen chimed in from her spot down the hall “We saw you take that hit. You lay on the ground a long time before you got up.”
“Oh, I’m all right, honey.” He poked his temple with one forefinger. “Hard head, you know?”
“We’ll be heading back now. Don’t bother coming home next weekend.”
“What?” Gable looked shocked. “I told you. This means nothing.” About that time, the elevator door opened and two of Gable’s teammates came strolling out with scantily clad women on their arm.
“I suppose those women don’t mean anything either.” Her mother wiped tears from her face. “You’re just a typical football player. You think if it happens on the road, it doesn’t count.”
Jensen pressed her lips together. She felt so torn. Part of her wanted to run and hug her dad, but she didn’t want to appear disloyal to her mother – so she kept her distance.
“Let’s go, Jensen.”
Gable grabbed his wife’s arm. “How about your doctor’s appointment? I’m coming home to go with you for the tests.”
“What test?” Jensen asked. This was news to her. “Why are you going to the doctor?” A spike of panic rushed through her.
Laura glared at her husband. “Now, look what you did.”
Walking quickly away, she took her daughter by the hand. “Let’s get out of here and go home. There’s nothing for us here.”
As Jensen hurried alongside her mother, she glanced back over her shoulder to get another glimpse at her father – but he wasn’t there any longer. He’d already returned to his room.
Jensen at 22 – September 2007
“Come on, Dad. You need to eat something.” Jensen hovered over her father holding a tray of food.
“I told you I’m not hungry!” He flung his arm up and hit the bottom of the tray, sending it flying across the room. The soup and crackers she’d prepared went everywhere. “Dad!”
“Where’s your mother?”
His question broke Jensen’s heart. “She’s gone, dad. Mom’s been dead for years.”