Jordan
I’m on cloud nine at camp on Monday, which is insane, because it’s officially a week until the big Cross Camp game, and we should be stressed to the point of hair loss. But I admit it. To see how happy Tali – and Rod – were on Friday unlocked a part of my heart I didn’t realize I’d kept shut. Then there was also how happy I felt, and that was a whole different can of worms. The happy was emanating from my every pore. It still is, I think, and I had no idea that kind of happy was possible until now.
Part of me is sad when the kids head to the bleachers at the end of the camp day, chattering as they take off their cleats and zip their bags. I’m going to miss it pretty badly. Then I start to think about what happens when I leave to this thing Rod and I are building, and I decide to stick a pin in those musings.
‘… I won’t sugar-coat it,’ Benny is telling us once everyonehas left. The three of us are sharing another bundle of leftover ice pops from the cooler, but the discussion is anything but summer fun. ‘Money isn’t looking great. Especially since the state chopped the sports grant we had in half. This game might be our last chance to salvage some of that.’
Rod shrugs matter-of-factly. ‘I mean, for what it’s worth, the kids are looking good. I have a meeting with Big Lacrosse tomorrow, and hopefully I’ll hear more about the money situation there.’
‘Big Lacrosse?’ I ask.
‘It’s a bunch of college sports bigwigs,’ Benny explains. ‘A board of guys who work for the public schools and allot us money for the camps with the intention of these kids eventually feeding back up to the colleges to play D1, D2. We’re in New England, obviously, which means these dudes have real sway. The sport’s a hot topic out here.’
College? I laugh incredulously. Nothing seems to come without a price when sports and corporate mix. I remember adding up my points per game when I was at OKC – watching match film and doing illegible math on the backs of hotel napkins to figure out whether I’d made enough to hang onto my scholarship. What a nightmare. ‘So not just all fun and games out here, huh.’
‘Unfortunately,’ says Benny with a sigh.
‘But we like to keep it all fun and games,’ Rod corrects with that pointed optimism of his. ‘For the kids’ sake, we don’t usually bring the money issues to camp.’
I hum in acknowledgement. ‘And why start now?’
The guys both nod. ‘We’ll get through this game,’ Benny proposes, ‘and then figure it out. Big Lacrosse can give us someclarity. Not to mention they love Rod, which is what’s kept us hanging on the last two summers.’
‘They don’t love me.’ Rod swats at the air, all humble-brag like he’s not the guy known far and wide as ‘Hot Rod’. ‘They tolerate me. I’ve pretty much been pushing them till they break. Hopefully tomorrow, they won’t have broken just yet.’
‘Sure,’ I snicker, swiping my bag from the bleachers. ‘Time to—’
My phone buzzes in my pocket before I can finish, and my watch dings on cue. I check the notification.
Seriously, Mom?
‘You all good there?’ Rod’s eyebrows knit together in concern, but I nod my head, trying to stay as nonchalant as a girl can when her mother’s going on a midlife-crisis-induced ranch spiral.
‘Oh, I’m peachy,’ I smile through gritted teeth. ‘I’m going to take off. I have something to attend to real soon.’
I practically blaze into the potholed parking lot, so aggressively I’m surprised I don’t burn holes through my Birkenstocks. I find my sedan and throw myself into the driver’s seat. I jab at the contacts on my phone and dial my mother. No way, no way, no way. The barns were enough. This bit, though, this can’t be happening.
With every dull drone of the dial tone, I fall down a couple steps from that pedestal of happiness.
Then the stupid voicemail prompt, and the beep.
I can’t blame her. I really can’t. Everything on that ranch has a different sort of tint in her eyes than it does mine. It’s probably full of promises my father made to her, promises he never kept. I wish I could put my pride aside and say,good for you.
But she’s still spending money on the ranch that sucked so much life from her, instead of travelling or going out or doingsomethingthat gives her back a semblance of that life.
And I could possibly have lived with it if she’d replaced any other part of the ranch. Except when I read her text again, an irreparable rawness fills my throat.
The stable where I kept my first horse. The ring outside of it is literally where I learned to ride. The little covered practice arena to the left is where I held onto the bronc for my first eight seconds. I can talk shit about growing up farming and ranching, but it built me. I can’t stand to see it go. I just can’t.
I’m not really even sure what I thought I’d get out of keeping the stables around. Forget that I remember my dad trying to put me on a horse and giving up when I started crying. I have good memories, too. It’s duality. It’s how that kind of thing works. What’d I think, though? That I’d show my kids around? Teach them to ride there, the same way my mother taught me?
That thought is a little harder to cope with when I think about the fact that this was the summer I actually –actually– started opening my heart to that. A family. And naturally, now everything I grew up with is going to be gone.
‘Jordan?’
I don’t totally clock that I left the door to the car open until I hear how clear Rod’s voice sounds. He’s probably a couple of cars away, eventually winding his way through until his tall, muscular frame comes into view. My eyes lock in on his, and he rushes right over. He doesn’t need to, but he does, and that makes all the difference.
I watch him get closer until he leans down to make sure I’m okay, his hand braced against the top of my car, his deep brownirises boring into mine, creased with concern. He dips his head forward, a curl of almost black hair falling across his brow, and says softly, ‘Hey. What’s up?’
