Page 65 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

He laughs. “As if Minnesota isn’t.”

“True, but I don’t think it’s the same. Our Midwestern snow is different from your violent windy snow.” I pick up a grape and plop it into my mouth.

“Living in the South, I can say I’ve gotten used to not being in snow.”

“That makes two of us. Speaking of, I know it’s last minute, but I’m flying home next weekend to visit with my dad,” I tell him, feeling really nervous for no reason. Well, maybe I have a reason. As much as I’m trying to convince myself that I’m living in the moment, a tiny part of me feels guilty. I firmly stand in the camp that lying by omission is still lying. I just can’t think about that right now.

“Oh, really?” he asks, looking at me in a way that makes me feel like he’s looking through me.

“A flight opportunity popped up, so I’m going. It’s just an overnight trip, but I haven’t seen him since Christmas.” And it did just pop up, all of this is true.

“Well, that’s good. Are you excited?”

My stomach dips. I should be excited, but instead, I’m feeling kind of numb toward it. “I am.” After all, that is the correct answer to give him.

“Do you want a ride to the airport? I can take you,” he offers because he’s a thoughtful guy like that.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind driving, but thank you.”

“If you change your mind, just let me know.”

Time passes as we talk, snack, and laugh. We’ve found ourselves sitting on the barstools at the island, with the platter between us, and he’s right—a night for just the two of us was needed. At least for a few hours. Eventually, he pulls a casserole dish covered in foil from the refrigerator and places it in the oven. It’s nice to watch him move around his kitchen and be in his space. How many meals has he cooked here? How many meals has he burned?

“What are we having?” I ask, smiling, dropping my shoes to the floor to get more comfortable.

“Lasagna,” he says, proud of himself.

“And you made it yourself?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I didn’t make the noodles or anything, but I did the rest. I’ve gotten pretty good at making one-pot dishes and casseroles. Easy to heat after school and easy to clean.”

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I’m one person, so food is simple. If I make anything like this, I just portion it out for multiple meals. How often do you eat dinner together?”

“Pretty much every night unless I’m on the road. Tyler is usually here too. He eats more food than I do, so we never have any leftovers.”

I met Tyler briefly at the recital, but other than that, I don’t know him.

“What does Vivi do when you’re on the road?”

“One of the coaches has a daughter in college here. During the season, she picks her up after school, takes her to dance, that kind of stuff, and then she sleeps over or she takes her to Camille’s.”

“She’s worked for you for two years now?”

“Yeah. I pay her well. But I only have one more year with her, then she’ll graduate and move on to something else.”

“Do you ever worry about being let go or traded to another team?”

“Every day. I’ve already been traded once, so I know what it feels like, but my contract has a few restrictions. Vivi and I have talked about it several times. If it does happen, I don’t want it to be a shock to her. But we’ll see where I’m at in my career at that point. Who knows, maybe I’ll just retire.”

“Where do you see yourself living after you retire?”

“Honestly, we haven’t gotten that far. We were in survival mode the first year, and then this past year, it’s been about settling in and healing.” He looks away from me and toward the living room. “It’s been hard for Vivi.”

“That makes me sad,” I tell him, feeling the lingering grief on him that sometimes accompanies conversations about his brother.

He runs his hand through his hair, lets out a deep sigh, then looks at me again. He’s so handsome.

“It’s okay. She’s had a lot more good days than bad, and slowly, I’ve been seeing her old self peek out, so we’re getting there.”