I want to tell him I’m not sure how he survives with two, actually, because there are days where having one raises my blood pressure to the heavens, but instead, I give him a grateful smile. ‘I appreciate it. They’re good kids. They make it easy. Hopefully Saturday will be as easy.’
The song ends as the crowd breaks apart into applause, and dancers rearrange themselves in preparation. A new round of heavy bass starts up, ‘Any Man of Mine’ by Shania Twain. I still have no idea how everyone knows the steps so well, but no one misses a move. They all catch on like it’s second nature heading into the chorus.
‘I think this is the day I give it a shot,’ declares Reese, slapping a hand on my shoulder as he clambers off his bar stool. My sister’s been going to these things with her husband for years, weekly dance-hall nights hosted by Rita’s – just a few blocks down from the Little Pint – but like me, he’s never really been one for the dancing. He’s been Genny’s cheerleader, nevertheless. There was one night where Reese literally showed up with a BabyBjörn holding Tyler, their oldest, strapped up to his chest,suited up in a pair of massive baby’s noise-cancelling headphones. ‘C’mon, Roddy.’
‘Oh, absolutely not.’ I stick out a hand to keep him from literally dragging me onto the dance floor. Reese, who’s been farming since he was a kid, is both taller and stockier than I am, with brown hair that grows past his ears and an obsession with flannel. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the dude was a lumberjack, but he’s actually pretty shitty at chopping wood (possibly the only thing I can outdo him at).
‘Seriously?’ Reese raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re not gonna dance with your woman?’
My woman. She’s everything and more. I’d buy her a farm and put my life savings in the pot in a heartbeat. I’m just afraid she’ll find out thatI’mafraid. Charlotte, as always, has rattled me. Her disapproval, the threat of upending Tali’s life again with this new relationship, which could start a nuclear war with Char. Somewhere in my heart, I’m still hesitant, because what if this doesn’t work, either? What if it’s wrong, and it’ll only hurt my daughter even more?
I watch Jordan spin, neon lights flashing against her face, the blue bandana in the pocket of her jeans swishing around as her black rose-embroidered boots squeak on the floor. She exchanges a laugh with Genny, and they hit the beat perfectly, sliding to the right with a clap.
‘Sure,’ I give in eventually. It’s definitely not the right decision for my complex emotions, but Reese’s face breaks into an ear-splitting grin, and we jump right in behind Genny and Jordan. I don’t know the steps, and for what it’s worth, neither does Reese, but the dance is fairly simple, which helps our two left feet acclimatize. Reese whoops. Our claps are more thanslightly off-beat, but he’s having the time of his life. I can’t figure out exactly what I’m having right now.
The back of Jordan’s head, split into two Dutch braids that I’d done for her before we left, swims before my eyes. My mind is not right, and I don’t know how to get it there.
We spring for a rematch against the tri-town U16 team for our last day of camp on Wednesday. We also let parents sit in to watch this one, which ends up drawing quite a crowd. I spot Rebecca in the bleachers, waving jovially to Jordan and me. Even Charlotte has somehow made it out of her meetings, and she’s sitting not far from Rebecca, perched up there like the scent of the outdoors is giving her hives. Sorry. I should be nice, and that definitely wasn’t.
‘DADDY!’ The unmistakable sound of our unofficial fourth coach getting ready for battle alerts us to her presence as she barrels down towards us from the stands. She’s still wearing Jordan’s bright pink glasses, and she holds out a hand to Jordan, Benny, and me. ‘Do I get to whistle?’
‘You’re amazing, girl, but … absolutely not.’ Jordan smirks. ‘Remember how many times you stopped the match last time? That was evil!’
‘It’s funny!’ she protests, her braided pigtails swinging as she sticks her hand further out, wrinkling her nose. ‘Please?’
‘What about I show you something cooler?’ Benny offers. He nods towards the electric scoreboard, which currently reads a bunch of digital zeros. ‘Scoreboard.’
That does it. Tali and Benny march off to the box to cause havoc through the scoreboard controls, leaving Jordan and me.
‘Do you believe in miracles?’ she says ominously, earning alaugh from me. Any athlete would be a fool not to catch the iconic hockey reference.
‘We’re about to find out.’
She grins before heading to the centre to line the ball up at the face-off. The audience buzzes quietly as Jordan removes her hand from the ball, walks backward to the sideline, and with one sharp tweet, the game’s on.
Our kiddos put up a much stronger fight than the first time around. We never have them doing anything as involved as watching match film (they would probably start booing and demanding we play a movie instead), but they have picked up the pointers we gave them pretty well. It’s happy faces all around when the final whistle blows, and Whittaker Lax Camp takes it, 6–4.
‘YESSS!’ Tali happy-dances her way over. It looks like she is accumulating gear from all the coaches pretty steadily, seeing as she’s wearing Benny’s coach cap along with Jordan’s sunglasses for some odd reason. The ring of blue on her lips tells me that Benny definitely bribed her with a juice pop during half-time, which only makes me chuckle. She leaps into my arms for a big hug, with a stalwart, ‘Daddy, I’m proud of you.’
Then, she hops down, and with hands on her hips, turns to Jordan. ‘It was worth a try with the whistle,’ she says with all the air of a master negotiator, ‘but can I have a piggyback ride?’
Jordan grins ear to ear. ‘Rod?’
I nod. The smile I give her feels emptier than I intend it to be.
The both of them whoop, and in one swift move, Tali grabs onto Jordan’s shoulders, and they’re off, galloping around the field with a ‘Steady, pardner!’ and an obnoxious neighing sound that has to be my daughter. It should be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The woman I want to be with, the life Iwant for my kid. And honestly, in a way, itisbeautiful. The smiles on both of their faces shine brighter than a million burning suns. But I guess that’s the thing about looking right at the sun. It blinds you.
Something in my chest falls apart as I watch them, and my gaze drifts up the bleachers to Charlotte. Her arms are still crossed. She’s the only one not rejoicing.
When I was alone, at least I knew nothing could hurt Tali. She wouldn’t know pain, wouldn’t know sadness. The memory of the way tears swam in her eyes when she asked to go ride with Jordan resurfaces, but I shove it down. No. My responsibility is to do what’s best, and I can’t risk turning her life upside down again, putting her in a place where she’s caught in a tug-of-war between me and her mother. Or worse, a place where she might get hurt. Gets too attached to Jordan, and then the next thing I know, she doesn’t come back. She leaves, and we live in limbo all over again.
I know this isn’t the same as before. I do. But a part of me hesitates to fully let Jordan in, to completely trust her. It’s a disgusting part of me. It’s an abomination of what happens when you try to be the perfect parent, on your own. Try to keep your kid away from any form of slings and arrows. That slice of my heart screams out and forces me to listen to it.
I think of Tali’s teary eyes again. Of the flood of hope that filled my chest when Charlotte came back for Tali’s birthday. And of Jordan’s whispered words, her head against my shoulder. The wave overwhelms me. It’s a cascade of numbness, of indifference.
I wish I could really, really get myself to understand that the things that make you happiest are the things that can tear you apart and leave you so empty that nothingfeelsany more.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
