“Exactly.” She frowns.
I cock my head at her, wondering if Ian is as sensitive about it as she is, but he ignores my insult, gesturing toward his missed target. “Mom, you know they have ways to hide those now.”
Our mom combs her fingers through her faded hair, shaking her head. “Don’t even start on the trashcan thing. This is where you two grew up. You weren’t complaining then.”
“At least let us pay to update it if you won’t let us get you a new place,” I say.
This woman is more stubborn than me, and that’s saying something. Deep down, I know why she’s averse to change. It’s the same reason I’d keep these threadbare rugs, the knicks in the walls, and the closets cluttered with years of memories. Dad lived here. This was his place as much as it was ours. If we plaster and paint everything, what will we have left of him?
She sighs. “When Ian wins the Super Bowl, then we’ll talk, but?—”
“Yeah, gotta catch up to your lil’ bro,” I laugh.
Nora clucks her tongue.
Our mom rolls her eyes. “But for now,” she says, tugging Nora under her arm, “Ian, you focus on providing for your growing family. And Decker?—”
“Yes?” I glance up from my phone screen.
“You just focus on making that animal shelter a reality. Don’t worry about my kitchen.”
I drop my gaze. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
She turns to face me. “A sign for what? Don’t you give up now. Gable’s is a setback in your string of plans. Nothing more.”
I raise my brows, dousing the streak of panic that’s cropped up with the rest of my drink. Hearing her talk about the shelterout loud makes me feel so… out of touch. Still, I can’t help but think if there were someone advocating for them, maybe more dogs would find a comfortable place to live out their last few golden years. It keeps me spurring on, no matter how ridiculous of a dream it seems. A professional football career pays well, but with the cost of living and leasing and medical supplies rising, I need a sure thing. I need a backup plan. Growing up with my family's financial restraints makes you think ahead about things like that. If I always have some stream of income, I’ll always be able to use it how I want, and right now, paying to keep my family and well-deserving animals comfortable is how I want to do that.
“Hey.” Her tone is one I’ve heard my entire life. The stern one that forces me to listen even when I want to do anything else. “I’m older. Wiser, some may say. This is only a little hiccup. Something better will come along. Trust me.”
She makes it sound so simple, like it’s destined to happen. Gable’s Restaurant and Lounge isn’t the first time I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I should’ve learned my lesson after that last brand deal fell through. The restaurant was supposed to be my Hail Mary to make up for that loss. Regardless, it always hurts to say goodbye to a good thing, especially before it comes to fruition. Not only does it suck Gable’s was damaged last night, but another historical landmark as well, the one on the other side of the wall. Allister King’s Music Hall.
Mom has too much confidence in me and my ability to produce. I know she doesn’t know any better because we’ve never really talked money together. It’s not something I feel comfortable with. I know what kind of budget we grew up on, the kind of Christmases we had. My parents always made sure my brother and I had enough while they constantly put themselves second. Dad missed out on so many games and memories because the only way to cover our expenses was for him to workmultiple jobs. As selfish as it sounds, it’s something that took me years to understand and finally forgive him for. It’s a guilt I still carry with me.
The minute I signed my pro contract, I promised myself they’d never go without again. And now that it’s just Mom, there’s no way I’m not providing for her. She’s always cared for me, believed in me, no matter how farfetched the aspiration. It’s the least I can do.
Mom crosses to the pantry, then the fridge, and then to the crooked cabinet door that hides the mixing bowls. As soon as she starts pouring ingredients, measuring with her heart, I know what she’s making. Her famous chocolate chip cookies. Nora picks at the chocolate chunks as the two get lost in baby conversation. My mom always wanted a daughter, and even though it’s through marriage, Nora is her first. I’ve only ever brought one girl home, all the way back in high school. Even then, I’ve never seen her take to someone like she has to Ian’s wife. Ian and Nora have something I could only ever dream of. My family gives me a hard time about hopping from girl to girl, but the thing is, I don’t enjoy it. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t do it for sport. What these two have is something to be envious of. It goes so much deeper than the surface level stuff everyone seems to get caught up in. When Ian falls short, Nora picks up the slack and vice versa. It’s a give and take, a team effort. They operate as one unit. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever find, and after the most recent headlines regarding my latest romantic involvement, any sane girl would run in the opposite direction.
Shaking my head, I try to push my failures and recent tragedies from memory. I finish my bottle and watch as my mom rests her cheek atop Nora’s shoulder, which she can barely reach. How that petite woman birthed two giants is beyond my understanding. Our dad was almost six feet tall, but I’m stillnot certain how that and a couple inches over five feet math up to creating two professional athletes towering six foot four and beyond.
Mom beams up at Nora as she starts mixing in the chocolate chips. She looks soproud.Just as proud as when I helped secure the Kings’ Super Bowl win at the beginning of the year.
“Don’t even think they’re gonna name that baby Darlene, cause they’re not,” I tease.
“What’s wrong with my name?” Mom huffs as she stirs her little heart out.
“We haven’t even discussed names yet, Decker. Don’t shoot her down already,” Nora says.
My phone pings again.Jason Lancasterflashes across my screen. What does my manager want? The first weekend in months, I step away from work, and he can’t seem to remember. I sigh, unable to hold back from scanning my texts. The wordsnew collab opportunityleap from my screen. Has he been taken hostage by some multi-level marketing schemer or what?
“Need another?” Ian points to my drink.
I shake my head as he grabs a beer from the fridge and a bottle of water for his wife.
“If the baby’s a girl, you never know,” Nora says, opening the bottle. “Darlene would be unique, or we could always find another way to work your name in.”
“Or maybe somethin’ with James in it, after dad.” Ian throws out the suggestion casually like he’s suggesting we order pizza for dinner, like it’s not the most gut-wrenching reminder that this baby will never meet her grandfather.
My mother’s eyes well with tears as she wraps her daughter-in-law in a tight hug. She’s always been a proud parent to my brother and me, but the admiration she has for this couple right now is something I’ve never witnessed in my thirty years.
