I let out a pained laugh as I imagine the look on her face. She would say that to me after every game all the way from little league to now. These are the moments I need. It’s more than enough to hold on to.
“Alright, I’ll have Jamie come in to help. I’ll be back in just a few.” I wait in silence as I imagine the kiss to the back of my mom’s hand and the smile she’ll give my dad in return, like they would do every single time they parted ways. Didn’t matter if Dad was simply grabbing something from the fridge…every single time. I know that’s not actually happening now, but the memory of it helps.
My romantic side comes from watching them growing up. It’s the reason why I hope to see every single one of my friends happy and in love. The love my parents have now is the reason I don’t want to find it for myself.
The kicker with early-onset is that it’s familial. Especially with my grandfather passing away with it, we had to have the genetics conversation. It was enough to have my head spinning, but I clung to the words that even though my chances of having it weren’t definite, and there were things I could do to help encourage my brain function, the bottom line was…there was no guarantee I wouldn’t.
I hear a sliding door open then close. “Alright, I’m outside, you can lecture me now.”
“You know I don’t want you forcing her to remember me.”
“I did no such thing, but you know the doctors have encouraged us to help keep her memory up—it doesn’t hurt to gently remind her about the son she loves very much. We both took those classes on how to talk to her during these later stages…we ought to put that to use, don’t ya think?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know what the doctors and all the nurses say, I have all their personal numbers and much to their dismay, I use them quite frequently. I know you know, it’s just…I’m not there. It’s a lot easier?—”
“Ah, so it’s that bullshit again. You’re just as stubborn as your mother,” Dad cuts me off, his tone becoming a lot less calm than it was a minute ago. “Get this through your head, Beckham—you are providing round-the-clock care along with the best doctors and medications. We no longer have to go out for appointments that leave both of us disappointed. She’s comfortable, and had a good day today so some memory-jogging is encouraged. You are the first person we always start with, end of discussion.”
I let out a deep sigh. “I’m coming down a few days after the postseason ends. If we don’t make it to the final game, maybe I can come sooner.”
“That’s fine, son. You know we always want to see you, but we also couldn’t be more proud of you. You know good and well that your mom would lose it if she saw how much weight you carry in this.”
Silence hangs as I let his words run through my brain.
Before I can respond, he clears his throat and asks, “So, any chance you’ll bring someone special with you this time?”
I muffle a laugh. “Not this time.”Or any time.“I’m perfectly happy being on my own.”
He mumbles another curse. “No, you’re not. You were practically Velcro growing up, even as a teenager. You hate being alone.”
Correction, I used to hate being alone.I have my team, my friends—that’s all I need. Not that I can tell my dad that, I can’t even begin to think of how to explain to him why I don’t want a relationship anymore, but at the end of the day it’s my choice.
“If I stop feeling guilty about not being home, will you stop bringing up me finding someone?”
Another beat of silence passes. “I’ll give you the, what, two weeks you’ll be here—no questions unless you start acting guilty.”
I barely form a chuckle. “I’ll take it.”
The silence hangs heavy on the line for a moment. “We just want you to be happy, you know that?”
“For fuck—” My hand grips my phone tight. “What about our deal?”
“I said during the two weeks,” Dad snaps. “Actually, screw that deal. I need to know you’re happy. Show me that, I don’t care how it looks. Alone. With someone. I don’t care if you become your own version of a cat lady, just show me that you’re happy when you’re here, and I’ll never ask again.”
“Fine, I can do that.”I think.
“I’m serious, Beckham. There’s not much I can threaten you with anymore. All I’ve got is parental guilt.”
My laugh comes without a thought. “I think you could still kick my ass if you really wanted to, old man.”
He lets out ahumph. “Kick your ass in pool, maybe, you might have gotten better since we played last.”
There’s a small ache in my chest. “We’ll see about that when I get there.”
“Sounds good. Get some sleep, you deserve it after that game.”
“Will do, Dad. Call when you can.”
“Of course. We love you.”
