“Well, some of us simply prefer to stay out of the spotlight.” There wasn’t the same defensive tone in Nixon’s voice that I usually heard when I tried cautiously broaching the subject of wanting to act like a normal couple. Two guys heading out to dinner wasn’t a damn spotlight, it was real life. But I hadn’t pushed too hard, especially since it’d be almost impossible to hide during our getaway. “He knows how talented he is, but he’d rather focus on the game than everything that goes along with it. That’ll help him next year. He won’t be one of those rookies who lets a nibble of fame go to his head.”
“Ifhe enters the draft next spring,” I pointed out. I was still trying to convince Hunter to finish college, but now, I felt as though Nixon and Hunter were conspiring to break down my defenses. Maybe Nix was right; maybe it was time for me to quit fighting Hunter on this. It wasn’t as if I could do a damn thing about it if his mind was made up. “Hey, he’s trying to get my attention. I think he wants me to help him escape the mob.”
“Well then, get to it.” Nixon laughed. Unlike so many times in the past, the sound that came from his mouth was deep and rich, a genuine laugh. If I closed my eyes, I could almost picture the accompanying smile. “I have to get ready to head out for dinner, anyway. You guys going to watch the game tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.” We were heading out to see Patrick and watch the game with him. His wife called earlier in the week and said she was worried about him. I promised her I’d stop by while I was in town and see if we couldn’t snap him out of the funk he’d been in.
“And you’re coming back tomorrow night?” He tried to hide the longing in his voice, but I still picked up on it. I’d never say as much to him, but every time he double-checked with me to verify when I’d be home, it eased my mind a bit that he was just as invested in this relationship as I was.
“Yes, Nixon,” I responded, try to feign exasperation. “I already told you I’ll be home when you get there. Unless, of course, there’s a flight delay, but I doubt that’ll happen.”
I reached Hunter and jerked my head toward the parking lot. He followed, a smirk forming on his lips as he eavesdropped on my conversation. Nixon was still a topic we both carefully avoided, but it seemed he might be thawing to the idea, at least a little bit.
I was proud of myself for not rushing to get off the phone just because my son was there. If we were going to survive, Hunter needed to understand that I wasn’t going to shelter him from my relationship simply because it made him uncomfortable. As he constantly pointed out, he was a grown man. Well, part of that meant not stomping off like a child because you weren’t comfortable with who your dad was dating.
“Okay. I suppose I’d better get off the phone so I can shower,” Nixon told me. “Have a good time tonight.”
“You too, but don’t have too much fun.” I laughed, remembering how annoyed Nixon was that he’d be sitting in the hotel lobby tonight, making sure none of the younger players tried sneaking out after curfew. It wasn’t something every team did, but the Breakers were a young team and that meant they had to deal with some players who thought the rules didn’t apply to them. “If you get bored tonight, text me. I think we’re just hanging out at the house unless Hunter’s going to ditch me for his buddies again.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. I playfully punched his shoulder so he’d know I wasn’t upset about him having a life of his own. Last night, he’d been skittish when he came downstairs to let me know he was taking off. It was the first time in years he’d asked if I was okay with him going to a party with the exception of the Sunday we’d gone to the Breakers game.
He was a good kid with a solid head on his shoulders, so I wasn’t worried about him making bad decisions. As that thought crossed my mind, I realized I applied that logic to every aspect of his life except his decision to finish college.
Shit.
I got off the phone as Hunter and I reached my car. I unlocked the doors and hit the remote start so Hunter could get in and stay cool. It also gave me a few seconds of privacy to tell Nixon I missed him. I slid behind the wheel once my phone was tucked into the pocket of my jeans. As I put the car into gear, I scrubbed my hand over Hunter’s head. He cringed, but didn’t jerk away from me. “Good game today, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Hunter teased. I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. “Pops, do you have any clue how much hell I caught in the locker room? A few of the guys noticed that you were extra enthusiastic today, to put it mildly.”
“So sue me. They’re just jealous they didn’t kick ass out on that field enough for their parents to jump out of their seats,” I shot back.
“Pops, you were screaming like a damn lunatic. I couldn’t hear you from the field, but even I could see you,” he quipped. The corner of his mouth turned up in what seemed to be a smile. I wasn’t sure, because it’d been a long time since I’d seen that particular expression on his face when it was just the two of us talking. He shrugged, looking out the window, waving to a few coeds who noticed him. “But it’s cool. You used to do that all the time, until you didn’t. I thought maybe you expected more of me than I was giving.”
“Never,” I promised him, reaching over to pat his knee. “You have always given everything you have out on that field. I’m sorry if I made you think I wasn’t proud of you or expected more. It was all on me and that crap I was dealing with in my own life.”
“Like Nixon?” Hunter asked. He didn’t seem angry, more concerned than anything.
“He was a small part of it, but far from all of it,” I told him, wondering how much I wanted to share.
This was one of those times I wanted to shelter my son from the uglier aspects of the game. I kept telling myself the league had made positive changes in the past few years to keep players from suffering some of the same chronic issues players from my day faced, but that worry was always in the back of my mind. Since Patrick’s diagnosis, I cringed every time Hunter was tackled hard, wondering if I was wrong to encourage him to follow his dreams, knowing what the future might hold for him.
Some of my buddies and former teammates had done exactly that. There was a time when having your kid follow in your footsteps was every player’s dream, but more and more guys were pulling their kids out of the youth programs, encouraging them to take up less risky sports. The problem was, by the time we knew what was going on, Hunter was already in college and there would’ve been no stopping him.
“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s finally getting better,” he said sincerely. “Where are we eating tonight? I’m fucking starving.”
I chuckled, because that’s the way it’d always been with Hunter. Even when he played in our local rec league, as soon as the game ended and the adrenaline wore off, he became ravenous. Because he’d had an amazing game, I decided we’d eat wherever he wanted, even if it was something greasy and disgusting that I usually tried to avoid. “You pick.”
I knew the moment he opened his mouth that I’d regret not putting any stipulations on the evening. He chose a wing joint. The food was amazing, but the grease settled like concrete in my gut and the spices they used on Hunter’s favorite wings singed every taste bud in my mouth, which was why I typically steered clear. I wasn’t as young as I used to be and knew I’d be miserable for days after. Still, it was worth it to hear that excitement in Hunter’s voice as he rattled off four different flavors of wings to the waitress.
As I watched him, my mind was caught on my revelation from earlier. He was a man, a very intelligent young man, and he deserved to know that’s how I saw him. Even if I didn’t like the choices he was making, they weren’t detrimental to his well-being, so I needed to step back and let him live his life.
I thought back to when I was his age and how eager I was to enter the draft. I wasn’t as talented as my son, and yet the hype surrounding my stats every weekend stoked the fire, theneedto stop wasting my life with academia. It was only because my own father had insisted I complete my degree. The day I signed my letter of intent for college, he reminded me that sports were great, but education was better. And here I was, doing the same thing to my own kid.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about the draft,” I told Hunter once we finished eating. It had been pointless to try talking to him over our meal, because his focus was solely on getting as much food into his stomach as possible.
“Pops, I know what you’re going to say,” Hunter complained. I tried to interrupt, but he shot me down with a glare. I motioned for him to continue. If I was going to respect him, I needed to prove it through my actions. “I’m not giving up on school. I already talked to my advisor and she said it shouldn’t be an issue for me to finish my classes online. I already got all the classes that require me to have my ass in a lecture hall out of the way. This isn’t me choosing football over my degree, it’s me doing what feels right for me now. Sure, I could hang around here for another year, but the result is going to be the same. I’m having a great year, if you don’t count last week, and people are noticing that. Every week, I see scouts hanging around and I know I’m one of the players they’re looking at. What happens if next year isn’t as good and it ruins my chances?”
“You can’t think that way,” I told him. It was a common fear, but one that didn’t lead anywhere. “But what I was going to say is that I need to respect your decisions. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember you’re very capable of taking care of yourself. And I’m sorry. You know your grandparents drilled it into my head that I needed to finish my degree. Thinking back, I realized I was exactly like you at this point in my college career. I had no choice but to stick it out because I’d made a promise to your grandfather. That worked out well for me in the long run, but that doesn’t make it right.”
