“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Luca Joseph Conti.”
As much fun as riling the old girl up was, I didn’t have time to waste. “Dad around?” I asked as she pushed a glass of fresh orange juice towards me.
“In the shed,” she replied. Without waiting, she pushed open the kitchen window and yelled for him. What made me almost burst with laughter was barely a moment later, the sliding door screeched, and Dad stepped inside, wiping his dirty hands on an old rag hanging from his pocket.
“Son! What are you doing here?”
“Heard Mum was cooking so I stopped by for lunch,” I teased.
“Bullshit! Your mother’s always cooking, and you don’t just appear. Want to try again?”
That was the thing about having a family as close-knit as mine. They knew you so well that when you did something out of character, they all lined up to call you out on it. I guess I’d become more than a little predictable.
Taking a swig of my juice, I tried to buy myself a little time. Mum and Dad both stared at me silently, waiting. Knowing it was now or never, I manned up. “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you both, if you’ve got time.”
Mum reached across the counter and gave my hand a squeeze. “You know we have all the time in the world for you, Luca.”
Dad clamped a hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to go on. “What’s going on, my son?”
“I’ve decided to…” Fuck! It was so frustrating. Why was this so hard? “I’m retiring,” I ended up blurting out.
“Retiring?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not because of those nasty reporters on TV, is it?” Mum questioned defensively.
With a shake of my head, I confirmed it was my decision. No one had pushed me. It was one hundred percent my call. Mum and Dad were amazing about it. I couldn’t figure out why I’d been so worried. They didn’t even flinch.
“No, Mum. It’s all me.”
“And you’re happy with it?” Mum asked nervously. I loved my mum. She was so worried about me being okay with all of this, she didn’t seem to care about the retirement itself as long as I was fine.
“Yeah, I am. I think it’s time. My heart isn’t in it anymore.”
“Well if you’re happy, then we’re happy, aren’t we, dear?” Mum confirmed, turning to Dad who just nodded along.
“Of course we are.”
Even though I knew Dad was saying exactly what Mum wanted to hear, he meant it. He might be completely smitten and under her thumb, but he’d never bullshit. Not about something like this. If he had something to say, even his admiration for Mum wouldn’t stop him.
I didn’t realise how much I needed their approval until they handed it over on a silver platter. My parents were the best. Letting go of the breath I was holding, my shoulders sagged as relief flooded me.
“What’s next?” Mum asked.
“Honestly? I’ve got no idea.”
“You’ll figure it out. It’s not like you need to decide today, is it?” Dad asked, ever the voice of reason.
“Thankfully, no. I’m not sure I could handle any more decisions this week.”
“So what happens now?” Mum enquired.
It took me half an hour to share what I knew, which wasn’t much. There’d be a press conference announcing my retirement at some point soon, and then I’d keep playing until the end of the season. There was very little hope of making finals this year, which meant, if I was lucky, I had five games to go. Five games, then there’d be no early morning runs or sweaty gym sessions. No more shoebox hotel rooms with a snoring teammate. No more cramped plane rides. No more training sessions. No more teammates. No more coach. No more soccer.
“Holy fuck,” I muttered as the reality hit me like a Mack truck to the side of the head.
