“Because we are doing a sunrise safari, Horace! This was your idea,” Annette fussed.
Horace chuckled, kissing his wife on the temple. “I know, and I’m having regrets. I’d rather sleep in and order room service. But I’m doing this to see the look on your face when you finally see a giraffe up close.”
Antonio smiled. His parents were couple goals. They weren’t perfect, but they were the best of friends. His mother said liking each other was far more important than loving each other. Liking each other was the glue; love was the icing on top.
“Oh, Horace, don’t you start!” Annette playfully shrugged. “I figured I’d try and catch you before our day started. I know it’s late there. How’s Atlanta?”
“It’s okay. For the most part the merger is going smoothly.”
“That’s good. And…how’s PJ?” his father asked, hesitating slightly.
“He’s good,” Antonio answered. He could see the disappointment on their faces when he didn’t offer more information. He wished he had something substantial to share about his son, but he didn’t. It hurt that his parents weren’t close with PJ. He was their only grandchild. They’d been thrilled when they found out that Antonio, their only child, had a child. They were ready to dive in head-first as grandparents. But because of his own strained relationship with PJ, Antonio hadn’t known how to foster a relationship between his parents and PJ. They’d met up a few times, but Antonio could tell that the sudden outpouring of love from his parents had been a bit overwhelming for PJ. It was Antonio’s fault that PJ was missing out on these two—given the chance, they would have been the greatest grandparents in the world.
Annette sighed. “That’s it? Ya’ll still not getting along, then.”
“It’s not that,” assured Antonio. “We’re good, Mama. It’s just… awkward, you know? Especially now that his agency and mine are merging.”
And…I slept with his agent, Antonio thought. But he wasn’t going to open up a can of worms about his personal life with his folks. “It’s like I’m trying too hard to make up for lost time.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been so afraid of that boy’s trifling mama, you could have done something about that! Wouldn’t be any lost time!”Guess Dad’s wide awake now, thought Antonio. “I told you to push for joint custody back then. Get the boy’s name changed. Carry on your legacy. Our legacy. What kinda name is ‘Perry Joseph Dawson’ for him? Sounds like a legal firm full of stuffy, old white men. The boy is supposed to be a Steele.”
“I know, Pops,” Antonio said. Whether or not the kid’s last name mattered, he got the point. This wasn’t the first time his father had said those very words. “I messed up.”
“You still have time to make it right, Ant, baby,” Annette said. She was always the optimistic one. Someone had to be. Horace was a little too real sometimes.
“He’s a grown man, Mama. I’m meeting him where he’s at, where he’s comfortable. Right now, he just wants to be friends. We aren’t at that father-son level. Never have been. I don’t know if we will be.”
“Well, that’s just the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Horace huffed. “No offense, Ant, but you too soft. You trying to be one of these new-age parents. Now, I don’t mean come at the boy in a mean way. But…just assert yourself as a father.”
Antonio squinted at the screen. “Old man, what does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Horace shrugged. “Fatherhood is on-the-job training. How you gonna get training if you ain’t doing your job? You can a be a friend, too, but not too friendly. You’re also the boy’s father. It’s a balancing act.”
“Now,thatI agree with,” his mother said. She’d gotten up and was flitting across the screen in the background.
Oh boy, now they were tag-teaming him. “Don’t you all have a safari to get to?”
Annette practically pushed Horace out of the way. “We’re leaving, yes. But can’t we check on our only child? And our only grandchild? We just…” His mother let out a sigh. “Life is short, my sweet boy. Don’t waste time worrying about what you did in the past. Fix what you can right now. Okay?”
Antonio could hear the sadness in his mother’s voice. “Okay, Mama. I know. And I promise, I’ll get PJ to reach out to you all.”
Annette gave him a wide smile. “I’d like that, sweetie. We’d love to go to one his games. If he’s okay with that.”
“Courtside,” yelled Horace, now packing a bag in the background. “Or at least a box. Don’t be cheap now!”
Antonio shook his head. “Of course not. Nothing but the best for you.”
Horace rejoined his wife. He was already donning a wide-brimmed hat. “Well, we gotta go, son. I promised your mama a giraffe, and I need to make good on it.”
“Bye. Love you.”
His father waved, and his mother blew a kiss before ending the call.
Antonio picked up the remaining chicken piccata but frowned as he stared at the cold sheen of oil on top. He’d lost his appetite. His father made him feel like a failure. Antonio knew Horace’s concern was out of love, but he hated the feeling of inadequacy that came up every time they had a conversation about PJ. He wanted to do better, but he didn’t know how.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through Instagram. He came across PJ’s stories—doing shoot-arounds at practice, draining threes as if it were nothing. He was on a long, West-Coast away game stretch and probably wouldn’t be home for a few weeks. Antonio couldn’t lie. He missed the kid. So, he decided to text him.
ANT:Hey. Just seeing how things are going?
