Adulation (36 page)

Josh’s eyes registered recognition as he pointed ahead. “Number forty-two.” Then he put hispointer fingers in his mouth and whistled so loud I actually jumped. “Hey, Jeremy!” he shouted andwaved. The entire team (including the coach) turned their heads upon Josh’s whistle, but only one amongthe wet-headed, rosy-cheeked boys waved back, nonchalantly, as if not wanting to be associated with Big Scary Whistler Guy.

“He plays right forward,” said Josh. “That’s a good position. Do you know which one it is?”

I looked at him in mock offense. “Are you kidding? I’m from Long Island, remember? As a kid youeither joined a soccer league or you were sent off to day camp and forced to play dodgeball until you gotembolisms on your legs.”

He laughed. “I should’ve known better.”

“I lasted for two years as a fullback. Most boring position on the team. Then I became the kid whostayed indoors and read all day. That, and occasionally I hung out with Tim and his friends, of course.”

Before he could respond, a girl in a pink raincoat and matching boots ran toward us (actually, itwas more like waddling). “Daddy!” she cried. It was his daughter, Mattie.

His eyes lit up as he crouched down to meet her height and extended his arms where, secondslater, she crashed into his chest as he enfolded her into a sopping hug.

Oh, yeah. Her boyfriends wouldn’t stand a chance when she turned sixteen.

I watched them interact with each other with a strange kind of fascination, as if I’d never seen afather and daughter interact before and wanted to know how it worked. Of course I’d had those kinds ofaffectionate moments with my dad when I was Mattie’s age, although I couldn’t remember any of themhappening in a public place.

Josh introduced me as his friend Sunny. She giggled. “That’s not a good name for a day liketoday.”

“Nope,” I replied. “I guess it’s not. Should I change it to Cloudy on days like today? Or Rainy?”

“How ’bout Snowy?” added Josh.

She giggled even harder, “No! That’s just too much to keep up with.”

“I like your name, though,” I said. She shrugged a thank-you.

“You wanna sit with us or stay with your mom?” he asked.

She glanced at me not quite apprehensively and only for a nanosecond before choosing to keep her

mom company.

“No problem,” he said as he looked ahead and made eye contact with a woman in a blue slicker, jeans, and sneakers, her hair hidden in her hood, just like the rest of us. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was feeling as self-conscious as I, wishing the day had not been so cold and crummy, preventing a better opportunity to impress her ex and his new girlfriend. I wondered if she, too, was squinting in the rain, trying to get a better look at me and secretly hoping Mattie wouldn’t like me, yet not wanting to interfere with her relationship with her father.

Suddenly parenthood seemed really foreign to me, and my thoughts turned to Teddy, presumablygoing to his own sons’ muddy, drippy soccer games—what if they had been
 
my
 
sons as well? What ifwe’d had kids and divorced anyway? I imagined myself as the one sitting away from the sidelines, joiningthe divorced dads and grandparents, the
 
guests
. For some reason I imagined us having joint custody, butthem living with Teddy. Maybe that picture was easy to form because he had the house. If we’d had kidsand gotten divorced, would I have kept the house? Would I have fought for it?

Just then, Jeremy jogged toward us. “Hey, Dad,” he said as if he were a mature twelve-year-oldrather than nine.

“Lookin’ good, Crush,” said Josh. “Don’t forget to avoid the offside.”

“I will,” said Jeremy. Then he turned to me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said. Josh quickly apologized for his lapse in manners and introduced us. I was surprisedwhen Jeremy wiped his hand on his uniform and extended it to shake my own.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later,” he called out as he ran back when the referee blew his whistle tosignal that the game was about to start. Mattie also took it as her cue to run back to her mom. I watchedhim watch them with pride, and my heart warmed.

“Told ya they’re polite,” he bragged. “He shakes hands with everybody.”

“Crush?” I asked.

“He wanted a soccer nickname, so I came up with Crusher. I’m not really good with names, but henever complained.”

“I think you have a lot to be proud of,” I said.

He nodded in agreement. “I do.”

On the sidelines we huddled together, shivering, in an old comforter on our canvas fold-out chairs. The rain fell on us like slick little nails. Jeremy was competitive and confident, charging the ball withferocious intensity.
 
A smaller version of his dad
, I thought. And yet I found it endearing. Josh and Iexchanged play by plays, referee calls, and team stats as if we were sitting in the stands of a professionalgame, and we both jumped out of our seats (throwing the comforter off us in the process) and cheeredwhen Jeremy scored a goal.

I was having a wonderful time, and cuddling with Josh under the comforter was plain ol’ nice. Atone point I looked at him, focused on his son, yet occasionally looking over at his daughter and ex-wife,waving to Mattie or motioning for her to come over and keep us company. He caught me and met my eyes. We locked our gaze and held it, and for the first time I think we each knew what the other person wasthinking.

We didn’t want it to end. Not yet. Give it another chance.

I kissed him, and we simultaneously broke into a grin when we opened our eyes.

“I’m fucking freezing,” I said, laughing. We scrunched our seats as close together as we couldwhile swaddled in the damp comforter.

Jeremy’s team won the game thanks to his goal, and he ran up to us afterward, straight into hisdad’s arms for  a quick hug, lest his teammates catch an uncool glimpse of him.

“You killed it, Crusher. Awesome game. Fantastic. Keep this up and you’ll make the travel team.”

“Thanks.”

I wasn’t sure whether to say anything. Would my praising him be construed as sucking up, orwould my keeping silent be construed as indifference?

“What your dad said,” I blurted. Well, that was stupid. However, it seemed to suffice.

“Thanks,” said Jeremy. “Team’s going out for pizza with the parents. You guys coming too?”

“Sure,” we said in unison. Josh gave me a look of pleasant surprise.

Jeremy smiled. “Good. I’m gonna ride with Mom.” And with that he jogged back to his mother.

Josh turned to me. “You’re OK with this?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? Besides, I’ve never tried New Jersey pizza.”

“A bunch of nine-year-olds in a pizza place? I hope you brought some Advil with you.”

Five slices and four Advils later, we got home sometime after two thirty. You’d think we had worked atwelve-hour day during the Christmas rush in the store, we were so worn out. I peeled off my clothes andchanged into Josh’s sweatpants, fleece sweater, and socks. While he piled up my clothes and put them inthe dryer with his own damp heap, I flopped on the couch and stretched out as if I  lived there. He pokedme to keep me from dozing off and beckoned me to make room for him. I groaned and hoisted myself up;he sat down, a grunt escaping from him as he did, and he pulled me to him, enveloping me in his arms. Irested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

“This is nice,” I said.

“Mmmmmm,” he replied. I could tell his eyes were closed as well.

“I had a nice time today.”

“I’m glad you came.”

I took in a relaxed breath. “Me too.”

A moment passed. “So what do you think of parenthood?” he asked.

It took me a moment to put my words together for an answer. What I’d experienced today was farfrom day-in-day-out parenthood, but I knew what he was really asking me.

“It has its moments,” I said. He chuckled. “Actually,” I added, “for the first time I think my lifeturned out OK. I mean, you were right when you first told me that I was romanticizing having kids. I canfinally see that.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, maybe not in those words... But I really liked watching you interact with Mattie and Jeremy.”

“They like you,” he said.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “How do you know?”

“I just know. And you were good with them.”

There was something satisfying about being a witness to Josh being a dad. Even seeing him with his ex-wife, I  found myself studying their mannerisms toward each other, the way they communicated and were so reserved yet so committed to putting their kids’ welfare above all. And I was glad Teddy and I didn’t need to do that and never would.

There was also something satisfying about interacting with Jeremy and Mattie like an aunt or a pal. I imagined going to more soccer games and taking them out for pizza afterward, just me and them, tradingstories and making jokes and giving advice. More so, I imagined myself as a
 
stepmom
. And although I’dnever cared for the word or its negative connotations, I believed it was something I could do or be.

I looked at Josh lovingly, and he mirrored the same.

“Are we OK?” he asked softly, a touch of worry in his voice.

“I think so,” I replied, just as softly, before adding, “but there’s one thing.” I pulled away, sat upstraight, and looked at him sternly. “You owe Georgie an apology.”

“For what?”

“For being a condescending jerk to him.”

He looked at me, agape. “When was I a condescending jerk to him?”

“Please, Josh.” I spoke in the same tone he occasionally used on me. And I have to admit, it wasempowering. “It’s obvious you don’t like him. I don’t know why, and God help you if it has to do with hissexual orientation—”

“Sunny—” he interrupted, visibly annoyed, but I wouldn’t let him continue.

“But you’ve got to know that I’m closer to him than I am to my own brother, and I’m not going to let you treat  him like that anymore. I mean it. Any disparaging remark to or about him, any eye-rolling, any hint of sarcasm, and you and I are over.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he’s overreacting?”

I shot him a warning look. “I’m dead serious. Georgie gets the benefit of the doubt from now on.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “You’re giving me an ultimatum?”

I didn’t even bat an eye. “He’s family. Tell me you wouldn’t give me an ultimatum if it came down to your family.”

He grew cold in an instant. “Whatever, Sun.”

“No, not whatever. If you and I are going to move forward, then this is going to change. I’m not saying I’m perfect, nor have I given a hundred percent to this relationship. I want to do better, and I’m willing to go all in now. But I’m bringing Georgie with me. He’s as much a part of my life as my parents and Tim and Theo and Whitford’s. Take it or leave it.”

And just as quickly as he’d turned cold, his expression then turned to one of equal parts consternation and fascination.

“OK,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied.

You’d think I’d just won a court settlement, or grew ten inches, or performed a corporate takeover. It was like finding a little piece of me. She’d been there all along, buried underneath the dark curtain of Teddy’s betrayal, underneath the shelves and stacks and shipments and pallets of Whitford’s Books and Café, underneath the fear that being me was unsafe. I’d nearly smothered her, buried her alive, and for what?

At that moment, if I could’ve, I would’ve done it all over again—would’ve told Teddy that I couldserve his balls to him with more force than Roger Federer. Would’ve given Danny Masters my name andnumber. I would’ve welcomed adulation. Would’ve welcomed the chance to be loved and the chance to

love someone in return.

Perhaps Josh’s arms were a start. But as I buried my face in his shirt, I realized that in my mind’s

eye I was embracing that lost self. She needed that hug so badly.

“So, we’re really OK?” said Josh.

I smiled and let go. “We’re OK.”