Page 83 of I Want to Know What Love Is

I gulp down my emotion and tell him the story. It’s easier than I thought it would be because he hadn’t been watching ESPN and he’d always wanted me to go to Boston College in the first place, but more than that.

“You might not believe it, but I understand about a woman you can’t live without making you do foolish crazy things, maybe even things that are wrong. But when it’s about love, son, I have to believe it’s right. If you’re in love, then you’re doing the right thing.”

My mind spins with a million thoughts, how his betrayal of me and mom was the wrong thing, how his leaving was made right because he was in love and how he equates all that with me seeing Amanda while she’s on staff and the disconnect is loud and noisy. But I also hear the understanding and the compassion and the anguish he’s been through, and I realize how much more his anguish must have been, and that he’s still here, still my dad.

“Thanks… I am in love.” I say it and mean it, feel it, but I don’t know what else to say to my dad, where to go from here with him. I clear my throat. “I just wanted you to know, to hear it from me.”

“I appreciate it, Dylan. More than you know.” His voice is gruff, filled with unexpected emotion. “I don’t know if Mom mentioned it, but I’ll be up to Vermont over the holidays. The wife and I will do some skiing and naturally, I’ll want to spend some time with you.”

“Sounds good, Dad.” I wait for the usual skepticism of whether he’ll make good on his promise to see me, but I don’t feel it, don’t feel any desperation, or needy concern or cynical hurt. “I’ll see you soon then.” We end the call and I feel strange as I go inside for dinner, looking forward to Majik’s specialty tonight, beef stew and dumplings, the kind that sticks to your ribs, the kind I’m going to miss so I plan to eat more than my share tonight, soak up every last drop of food and good company that I can.

* * *

The Friday before the bowl game I get some good news and some bad news.

Good news is coach told me I get to play because he doesn’t want to punish the team for my impetuousness—his word, not mine. And the bad news? Harley called. The man with the sponsorship money wants to see me and Heather at his house—tonight. Shit.

I’m assuming it’s bad news and by the look on Heather’s face as she opens the door of her uncle’s sick mansion to let me in, I’d say she’s assuming the same thing.

“Any idea what’s up?” I whisper as I walk into the front hall. She shakes her head.

“He’s waiting in his study and wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here.” I take a deep breath and reconcile myself to paying back the money he gave me, hoping he’ll be patient with small payments until I hopefully get drafted—over a fucking year away.

“Let’s get it over with,” I say, following her to the dark paneled room. Harley’s sitting behind his desk, his face an unreadable mask. I don’t sit and Heather stands with me.

“Have a seat,” he says.

“No thank you sir, I—” He puts up his hands.

“I know what’s going on. No need for explanations or apologies or nonsense.” He looks between us and I’m not sure what he thinks is going on, so I clear my throat to tell him.

“You haven’t been taking care of Heather as agreed,” he says. Fuck. I shake my head and she squeezes my hand, then jumps in, extending her bravery streak and impressing me again.

“Uncle Oscar, that’s my fault. Dylan started out showing me around and did his job introducing me to people and that was the point, right? He did his job so well that I met… someone else I’ve been spending time with instead of him.”

“Is that right? What’s his name?” Heather blushes furiously and so I jump in to save her.

“His name is Augustus Dooley, sir. He’s a good friend of mine, gay. He knows everyone and has been taking good care to see that Heather feels comfortable and experiences all SPU has to offer.” I’m full of shit, but it’s only a half-lie. I could have said she’s been seeing Shelby, but she hesitated on mentioning Shel’s name for a reason—probably to protect her privacy from her overbearing meddling Uncle—because let’s face it, that’s what he is. He nods then looks to Heather for confirmation. She nods, still furiously pink.

“Then that’s settled. You’re off the hook, Dylan. Now you can tell me what the hell’s going on with this asinine transfer to Boston College. Why the hell are you transferring, young man?” I snort out a breath and tell him what I really think.

“It’s true, I’m leaving as of next semester, but our agreement was only for this semester, sir. So my reasons for leaving are none of your fucking business.” Heather tenses next to me, so I add, “With all due respect.” As if it will matter.

He laughs, cackles really, and says, “You’re a real smart bastard, aren’t you? I think you’ll go places—and I’m not talking about the NFL. You let me know if you ever want a business partner, Jones.” He nods, then waves a hand, shooing us away as he turns back to his desk phone and picks up the receiver.

Letting ourselves out the front door, Heather laughs. “My uncle is a character, isn’t he?”

“That’s one word for it.” But honestly, I don’t have anything against him because I know he’s only been trying to take care of his niece and he ended up helping me out—a lot.

* * *

The team travels to the bowl game the next day and it ends up being a blow out and a giant party, the best way to go out. Somewhere along the way, while a couple dozen of us are at the hotel bar still celebrating, the party theme changes and turns into a going away party for me. Coach Ryan gives a speech and I’m touched. Coach Radz isn’t there—he left after the first illicit bottle of champagne was popped.

More importantly, Amanda is missing and I find myself anxious to get to my room and call her. I’m rooming with Shelby, but he’ll give me space. Before I leave, I’m surprised when a young woman walks in and Coach Ryan greets her in an embrace.

“I know her,” I say to Shelby. “She’s from the Finance department office.

“Looks like it’s serious if she followed him here. Heather didn’t even make the trip and I know for a fact her Uncle would have sprung for it.” I shrug and slap him on the back.