Chapter 37
Dawson
Iknocked on the door to Dad’s office and steeled myself when he called out for me to enter. My eyes adjusted to the low lighting from his desk lamp before settling on his form by the window. I heard him pouring a drink from the small bar cart he had stashed away in the corner.
My worry turned into surprise when he walked over and handed me a lowball glass, clinking it with his. I wasn’t sure exactly what the caramel-colored liquid was, but at that point I’d welcome anything to take the edge off. I tossed it back in one go and Dad snickered quietly before following suit, holding his hand out to refill my glass.
He gestured over to the sofa with the refreshed drinks in hand and we sank onto the leather seats side by side. The silence was thick and stifling, a palpable entity that I could sense hovering in the air. I chanced a look over at Dad who seemed to be staring at my football photo on his desk with a forlorn expression.
“I’m really sorry you found out that way,” I murmured, running my finger around the rim of my glass slowly.
“Did I…”
“Did you what?”
“Did I push you too hard? Make you think that you had to be perfect or go along with what I wanted just to make me happy?” he asked in a pained whisper.
“I wanted to make you proud…” I confessed. “You always talked about football being one of the best experiences in your life and you were so excited for me to go pro like you and Gramps had.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that wasn’t something you really wanted?”
“Well, I saw how hard it was for you to be forced to retire after your injury and I knew how important it was for you to see me continue the dream that you’d lost…”
Dad ran his hand over his close-cropped beard. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t look forward to seeing you play out on a professional field like I had. To think about one day sharing that experience with you and…yeah, maybe living a bit vicariously through you too was exciting. But you never had to make that your dream just because it was mine.”
“I didn’t want to let you down…”
“Did you really think I’d be any less proud of you if you chose not to go to the NFL?”
I shrugged sheepishly, keeping my gaze averted. “I mean, you didn’t exactly seem supportive downstairs when you heard I wanted to pursue music instead.”
“I was a little thrown off downstairs, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. This is my fault,” he grated. “I kept putting all this pressure on you because I really thought you wanted the same things I did. I assumed you were stressed about the season or just procrastinating like Pop said and you needed an extra push to remember the bigger goal. I never thought you wanted something else.”
“You didn’t ask,” I mumbled.
“Now, that’s not exactly fair. You never told me that you were thinking about quitting football and I still don’t understand why you hid it for so long. Why not just come to me when you started considering another career path? Were you worried I’d be angry?”
“It wasn’t that I thought you’d be upset or pissed. I was scared that…” I ducked my chin, not wanting to admit the truth out loud. “I got scared that if I didn’t have football anymore, our relationship would change…that we wouldn’t be close afterwards.”
His eyes flashed with hurt. “What? That never would’ve happened.”
“Think about it, Dad. Most of our relationship was about football, or revolved around it in some way. You were my junior league coach for years, you’ve been friends with all of my school coaches and trainers, and almost every conversation we have involves football. Shit, when I was a kid, the number one thing you liked to do with me was toss a football around outside and work on my passes. I knew that if I ever quit, we would have nothing in common anymore,” I said gruffly. “I guess I kept putting it off because I wasn’t ready to lose that connection with you…”
“Champ, I…shit.” Dad covered his face with one hand, his breathing shaky as he tried to collect himself. My throat tightened and I worked to swallow the lump of emotion lodged there. He finally dropped his hand and looked at me with glassy eyes.
“I am so sorry, kid. If I was doing my job right as a parent, you never would have worried about that. That’s all on me. Of course I loved sharing the game with you, but I loved spending time with you for so many more reasons than that. You’ve always impressed me with your humor, your intelligence, yourkindness…I have loved getting to know the man you’ve grown into and none of that has to do a damn thing with football.”
I blinked back the tears that blurred my vision. “But we don’t really talk about anything else…what if you get bored with me?”
“Never,” he said adamantly. “I could never, for one second, find you boring. And again, that’s my fault for not talking to you about your life and other interests. I may not know anything about music like your mom does, but I’d love for you to tell me about it. And I want to hear about your friends and the crazy stuff you’ve all gotten yourselves into the last couple years. I want to know it all!”
“Really?...”
“Really, really. And if music is what you want to do after college, then I’ll do whatever it takes to support you. I’ll admit, I always figured if you didn’t keep playing football, you’d at least look into coaching the sport and doing something with all your talent and years of experience.”
“It’s not that I don’t love football, but it’s not what I want to wake up and do every day. Music is something I can’t live without.”
“But have you actually thought about what that would look like as a career?”
