Everyone turns their attention to Cyrus. “I do?”
“Yes, I don’tthink we should wait.”
My mother’s mouth drops open and she gasps. Never a good response. “You’re pregnant!”
“What?” I’m stuck chewing the last bit of mush they call a healthy alternative to hash brown casserole. I think it’s made from cauliflower.
Mom keeps going. “Your snowsuit looked tight when you raced, but I didn’t want to say anything. I know how sensitive you get.”
“What?” I ask again.“Mom, I’m not pregnant.”
Why would he say I have an announcement? And why is pregnancy the first conclusion my mother jumps too? And I look fat in my snowsuit?
Cyrus, completely unfazed by anything happening, smiles harder. He squeezes my knee under the table. “Not yet, but we have decided to try dating.”
Not yet, what? The whole damn table has lost their minds.
My mom releases a breath.“Is that all? You didn’t need to make a big fuss about that.”
“She’s right.” My dad shoves another bite of omelet in his mouth. He’s obviously gotten over the whole spinach thing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask hoping eventually somebody will answer my questions.
“We knew it would happen eventually. We’ve been waiting for Cyrus to get off his ass and ask.”
Cyrus chokes on the sip oforange juice. “Me?”
“Just make sure neither of you let this interfere with your schedules.” My mother’s finger bounces back and forth between the two of us. “And no kids until you’re both done competing.”
“Barring any mishaps, I definitely have at least one more Winter Games in me. Maybe two. Many athletes are still competing after thirty. I thought afterward, Charlie and I could settle downin a nice community. Maybe somewhere close to you two.”
“What?” He’s had these thoughts before? He’s planned our futureandhe’s considered moving closer to my mother? Does he have a fever?
“That would be nice.” My mom smiles.
The two of them continue to carry on about good areas we could move to. Places with high-ranking schools but yet close to training facilities in case we decide to continueon in a different career path once were done snowboarding. Things that are absolutely crazy. Things my boyfriend of twelve hours should not be thinking about. My father, unconcerned by the conversation, continues to eat his omelet, pretending like he doesn’t hear anything at all.
In fact it’s probably how he’s gotten through life. I decide I’ll take a page from his playbook and do the same. Instantlymy breakfast mush turns into the best thing I’ve ever tasted as I focus my attention on making sure I enjoy every last drop and tuning out the troubling conversation taking place.
When they drop us off at the practice lodge after breakfast, I turn and watch the rental car drive away. They’re off to see the sights for the day. When Cyrus has his attention elsewhere, I smack him on the shoulderwith the back of my hand.
“What the hell was that for?” he asks, not even bothering to pretend like it hurt.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “For the crap with my mother.” Cyrus has always been one for a good joke, but this time he’s gone too far. “You shouldn’t toy with her like that. Now she’ll expect us to move into Churchill Downs.” The neighborhood is not far from where her and my father owna home.
Cyrus laughs. “I wasn’t kidding with her. That’s where we’re going to move.”
“No it is not.” Is he absolutely crazy? Any closer to my mother and I’ll go crazy.
“If you didn’t like the plan, Charlie, you should have paid attention when we were making it.” He turns and walks up the steps to the lodge.
“What do you mean, paid attention while we were making it?” I stop on the step behindhim. “This isn’t something to joke about,” I yell as he opens the large doors.
“I wasn’t joking.” Cyrus keeps on walking with me trailing behind.
“What do you mean you weren’t joking. Of course you were joking.”
He finally turns back and stares me dead in the eyes. “I would never joke about my future with you, Charlie. Churchill Downs has great schools. And the kids can grow close to your parents.”With those final parting lines, he leaves me standing in the middle of the lobby with my mouth gaping open as he turns and walks toward the area athletes use as a locker room.
What kids?
Whose kids?
Our kids?
