“Did I say car?” he fumbled, his words tripping over one another. “I meant…the heater. Yeah, the water heater went out. Whole place was freezing. You know how it is. Things pile up.”
My stomach twisted.The water heater wasn’t even for heat, but I bit my tongue. He couldn’t keep his stories straight anymore, the same excuses shuffled around like cards in a losing hand. And I was supposed to buy it. Again.
“You still there?” he asked when I hadn’t said anything for a second.
“Is this about the heater or the sportsbook app?” I finally asked quietly.
Silence.
I closed my eyes, dragging a hand through my hair. “I told you the last time—I’m not enabling this shit anymore.”
“Matthew.”
Fuck, I hated when he said my name like that. Like I was five again, and he was still a man worth listening to.
“You think I don’t know I screwed up? That I haven’t been trying to do better? I just need a little help. A couple grand to get ahead this month. That’s nothing to you now, right? I know what that deal with Under Armour is worth. You’re rolling in it, son.”
I flinched. “How do you know those details?” I asked, cursing the existence of social media and everything else that allowed my dad to know any details about my life.
“The whole internet knows. You think your little brothers don’t shout it out every time you get mentioned on ESPN? You think the neighbors don’t talk my ear off about it every time they see me? Everyone knows. You made it. You’ve got the golden ticket.”
“You mean Iamthe golden ticket.”
He scoffed. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice was quiet, flat. “Every time you call, it’s for money. You didn’t even ask how classes are. Or how the season’s going. Or if I’m okay.”
“You owe us.”
The words hit me like a punch.
“What?”
His voice hardened. “You think you got there on your own? You think those summer camps paid for themselves? Or the extra shifts I worked to afford your cleats? You think your mom didn’t go without so you could have protein powder and a gym membership? We sacrificedeverythingfor you.”
Guilt twisted in my gut, ugly and sour.
“You think I wanted to take out that second mortgage? You think your siblings never noticed the lights getting cut off because we had to drive you to out-of-state tournaments?And now you’re too good to help your family out when we’re drowning?”
I started up the stairs of the building, only vaguely aware of the students that were passing by or the looks they were giving me. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. But I need to know it’s actually helping. Not just going into another bet. Not just burning down with the rest of your excuses.”
“You saying I’m a lost cause now? That I’m not even worth trying to save?”
“I’m saying I’ve been here before, Dad. Too many times. And I can’t keep cleaning up after you.”
“Wow,” he said, his voice cracking just enough to make me feel like the asshole. “You forget where you come from real easy, don’t you? All that money, and it makes you think you’re better than us.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it? You too embarrassed of the poor family back home? You think your siblings want to keep eating ramen so you can live out your dreams? You think your mom doesn’t cry every time your name comes up because she misses you so much and knows you won’t call?”
I gritted my teeth. And of course, the second he said her name, I saw her. Sweet and small in the kitchen back home, still wearing her nurse’s scrubs after a double, humming to herself while she stirred a pot of spaghetti that never seemed to stretch far enough. Her tired eyes lighting up every time she looked at me, like I was still her baby boy. Not the ghost who only called when he had to…because every call risked running headfirst into her asshole husband and his demands.
“Don’t bring her into this,” I snarled.
“She’s in it, Matty. We all are. This family bled for your dream. And now that you’re living it, we just want to breathe.”
My hand was shaking by the time I stepped inside the doors.
