“You mean, you wanted a roommate?”
“I wanted the life I have right now. I’m playing pro-football at the highest level. I’m living the dream,” he told me, and I nodded. He was. He might go live it in another city with another team next season, but I couldn’t think about that right now.
“I don’t want my parents’ life,” Ronan continued. “I don’t want Cormac’s either. I don’t.” I nodded again. “I told you that they’re having a boy. He called me, very excited.” He started to smile a little, the first time I’d seen it since—well, it felt like it had been just about forever, and I was so glad to see it now that I felt like I might cry. That was ridiculous.
“He said, ‘Maybe we’ll name him Ronan, after you.’” I watched his eyes get wet, too. “Can you imagine that? Another me.”
“We would all be lucky to have another you,” I said, but I didn’t think it was possible. No one could have been so completely perfect in a way that wasn’t perfect, but just was.
“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, and I took my hands back and tried to settle down.
We talked football until the food came. It was a much safer and less emotional topic, and the dinner was fun and easy, with us getting along just like we always did. I wanted to tell him about Victoria and Mr. Gowan but I didn’t think I should, so I stopped myself each time I started to open my mouth about the two—three—of them. But I did tell him about his friend Channing.
“Yeah, I should have warned you that I gave him your number, but I didn’t think he was going to use it. He kept telling me that maybe you’d step in and I said no, you wouldn’t,” Ronan told me. “I said you definitely weren’t going to bat for him and he seemed to agree that you hated him and he wouldn’t bother you. You had thought he was a braggart who drank too much.”
“Well, yes. And I like Myles a lot, too, but I don’t know how much Kiya does,” I responded. “She does think that he’s fun and cute.”
“Cute? He’s on the O-line. Those guys aren’t cute. Now, if you’re going to talk about the defense…”
“He’s handsome,” I corrected myself. “And he doesn’t blow himself up, like others do. And he doesn’t seem to love avocados like others do, either, so there will be no nicknames of that ilk.”
“Thank God.”
“But I did pass along Channing’s message to Kiya. Only that he wants to talk to her,” I explained. “She seems ready to listen.”
“Good, but I kind of hope that nothing comes of it. I personally like Myles better, too.”
“He’s cuter,” I maintained.
“Sure, he’s just like a little bunny,” he offered. “A cute little stuffie. By the way, how is the Cyclops?”
“Polyphemus is fine.” I’d been clinging to him at night, holding so tightly that I worried I might do him some damage. “I would be willing to play golf against you again. You might win a stuffie of your own.”
“Maybe I do need a Cyclops in my life.”
“How about on Sunday?” I suggested, and Ronan nodded. It was a date.
We didn’t return to the idea of me moving in with him until we were out in the parking lot. He had walked me to my car and I brought it up again. “I’m not going to push you about the living situation,” I said before I got in. “If you want to take back the offer, you should. I won’t be offended and I’ll re-sign my lease.”
“For the place you just admitted that you hate.”
“Or I could find somewhere else,” I suggested. “But it doesn’t have to be in your house, where you like to live alone.”
“I need to think about it a little. Ok?”
I nodded, indicating that it was fine. It was not. I’d regretted declining his invitation almost as soon as I’d heard the words coming out of my mouth. But instead of taking them back or admitting that I’d made a mistake, I’d doubled down and told myself that things were fine.
They were not. I’d been miserable thinking that I’d hurt his feelings and that I was going to lose him. I’d been wishing fordays that I’d said yes, yes to living with him, and yes to—well, anything else. Anything that increased our contact.
“Think as long as you want,” I urged.
“Yeah, but you have to tell your landlord if you’re moving, right? Don’t you have to give notice or something?”
“I’ll figure that out.” If I had to live in my car for a while, I could do that. I had before, when the money that my dad gave me had run out during my senior year of high school and I hadn’t earned enough in tips because, frankly, I wasn’t a person who related well to customers. I had lived that way again when I’d had to get myself out of the dorms at my college. It had been difficult, but I could do it…no, that was silly. I had more money now, and I could also go back to motel life. Why was I thinking about living in my car? Why was I forgetting that I was now an accomplished, stable person? “I’ll figure something out for sure,” I stated. “You take all the time you need.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. You’re much more of a hard-ass,” he told me. “Aren’t you the one who pulled over the car to yell at me about going to the tryout?”
“I didn’t yell!”
