Infinity. (Infinity Series) (21 page)

Petty.

Yes.

Bratty.

Yes.

Don’t care.

Pancho and I complete about three miles. I know that he’s missing his morning runs with Charlie, and he makes me stop two houses from ours and remove his leash so he can run to the house, just as she’s taught him. He waits by the back gate for me to let him in. I get a twinge in my heart when he checks the cars in the garage, and runs in the house. “There’s no one for you to find, boy. It’s just us,” I say to him.

The first thing I do when I walk into the kitchen is check my phone. There are no missed calls, but I did get a text from Charlie.

Charlie:
It’s been a hell of a day. Thanks for the flowers. I’ll call you in the morning
.

Fuck my life.

Charlie

Wake up.

Quick run with Miguel trailing me.

Brad feeds Ainsley, while I take a shower.

Get Ainsley clean from breakfast.

Get Ainsley dressed.

Get me dressed while I have my first cup of coffee.

Drop Ainsley off at my mom’s house for Amy to watch her.

Try to keep my father’s failing medical practice in the black.

Deal with patients who are upset that my father is dead.
Not my fault!

Fight insurance companies.

Calm a panicking Carmen that she’s not going to lose her home.

Pick up Ainsley from my mom’s house.

Feed Ainsley, Brad, and myself.

Bathe Ainsley.

Put Ainsley to bed.

Collapse on the couch with Brad, and drink wine until my heart rate returns to normal.

Give Colin thirty minutes of my night, even if sometimes I find it difficult to speak because I’m so mentally drained.

Crawl into bed.

Repeat again tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Colin

Charlie and Ainsley have been back to Dallas once since her father passed away, and that was for only two nights. I’m counting down the days until Thanksgiving. She’s closing the office for the week. I get my girls for eight days. Of course, I have two football games in those eight days, but I’ll get to fall asleep and wake up with the two most important ladies in my life—thrilled is an understatement. The word ecstatic comes to mind.

Pancho and I’ve been spinning like the Tasmanian Devil through the house, trying to spruce it up. Alice is right alongside me, shooing me out of the way, but I can’t stop. It’s nervous energy.

I keep reminding Pancho that today’s the day Charlie and Ainsley are coming home. By the time that practice is over, they should be here. Chef is preparing one of our favorite meals. Alice has brought a few of Ainsley’s most treasured toys downstairs so we can all hang out in the family room after supper. Jenny offered to keep Ainsley for us so Charlie could come to my game tomorrow. I’m hoping that we can decorate the house for Christmas while she’s here. This will be Ainsley’s first Christmas, and I want it to be perfect. Only Charlie can put those special Griswold touches to our house that makes it feel like home around the holidays.

I make our bed, and tighten the sheets. Charlie likes the sheets tight. Pancho and I’ve been living a bit like bachelors, so I check under the bed to make sure that there aren’t any socks or dirty underwear that have accidentally wandered there instead of the dirty-clothes hamper. I discover one of Pancho’s rawhides. Charlie makes Pancho enjoy those delights only in the laundry room or outside. I pull it out, showing him the evidence of our bachelor ways. “Dude, these have to stay in the laundry room, or your mom is going to kill us.”

Pancho hangs his brown-and-black spotted head as if he understands every word that I’m saying. He knows that he’s being chastised. He could be in Mensa for dogs.

I go back under the bed skirt, looking for incriminating evidence, and find two random socks, and a pair of skin-colored G-string lace panties. They make a huge shit-eating grin spread across my face as my dick reminds me how they got there. Just as I’m bringing out the proof of my last tryst with my wife, Jenny clears her throat.

I belly crawl out from under the bed before I sit up on my knees to see what she wants. Her hair is a very normal shade of platinum blonde today. I have to say, I miss the colors when she decides to go conservative.

“You’re going to be late for practice,” she scolds. Her arms are crossed, and she’s leaning against the wall with a smirk on her face as she plays some stupid game on her phone.

“Yes, Mommy dearest,” I reply as I hurl one of my dirty socks at her. I’m in such a good mood today that nobody can piss on my party.

She lets out a surprisingly girly squeal, and ducks before my sock can contaminate her. “Colin, that’s disgusting, and you’re an asshole. Seriously. Are you sixteen? And now you made me lose my game,” she says in a huff as she turns to walk away, shaking her head.  Then, she pauses. “Oh. By the way, Aiden called, and asked who’s coming to Thanksgiving,” she states without an ounce of concern in her voice. Before I can reply, she continues, “I told him that if he meant was Rachael going to be here, then the answer is yes. Not sure if he’s still coming. You might want to call him”

I sit back on my heels and sigh. “Thanks for letting me know.”

It’s been a year and half since Rachael told Aiden that she wasn’t going to marry him. They’ve seen each other twice. Once, when Ainsley was born at our two-week Meet Our Kid party, and at Charlie’s dad’s funeral. Both times Rachael was fine, but Aiden looked like he had a bad hangover. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve spelled it out for him: the girl you love doesn’t love you back. Move on.

Even I know that’s much easier said than done. Exhibit A: My first marriage. Exhibit B: My overdose. Exhibit C: Sleeping with random women and Jenna.

Just the thought makes me shudder.

Jenny checks her watch, and from the safety of our living room says, “Seriously Colin. Get your ass in gear. You’re bordering on tardy, and I’d hate to see you have to stay late today of all days.”

She’s right. I’ll just have to trust Alice to debachelor my pad.

****

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That’s what I feel like I’m doing at practice.

“Quit checking your watch, asshole. I’m going to think that you have a hot date,” the quarterback coach teases me as he hands me another ball to throw.

I drop back and toss it as far as I can, hitting the upright. That was a long fucking throw. I even surprised myself. “I do. I’ve got not one, but two beautiful blondes waiting to welcome me home.”

He laughs, and lobs me another ball. “Twenty bucks says that you can’t hit the upright twice.”

Is he kidding me?
I smirk, drop back, and throw the football. I watch it rotate through the air and hit in the exact same spot the last ball did. I’m on fire today.

I lean toward him, making the money sign in his face while I do a bragging victory dance. “Pay up, motherfucker,” I taunt him.

He laughs. “How about if I keep my twenty, and you can cut outta here a little early?”

He doesn’t have to offer me that deal twice. I don’t even bother showering, just grab my stuff out of my locker, slip my wedding ring on, and head for Bertha. I say to myself, “Watch out ladies. Daddy’s on his way home.”

It’s a gorgeous November day in Dallas. The sun is shining. I have my windows rolled down, enjoying the breeze blowing through my truck. Old Pat Green is singing his heart out through the truck’s speakers. Life is good.

I let my mind wander. Maybe I should get a convertible for days like this. I donated the Corvette that I won for being named Super Bowl MVP to my charity. They raffled it off, and someone bought it for almost three-hundred thousand dollars. Shocked the hell out of me. The winning bidder asked if I’d sign the leather seats. Umm… sure.
You just paid three times what the car is worth. I think that I could be bothered with my signature.

When I drive through the open gates of our neighborhood, my left leg begins to bounce up and down with nervous energy. I find myself trying to see around trees, and through shrubbery. I want a glimpse of what Charlie calls The Tank. Then I know my girls are home.

The closer I get to my house, the tighter the knot becomes in my stomach. Unfortunately, what my brain realized was obvious before my heart is that my girls aren’t here yet. I check my watch, knowing they should’ve arrived two hours ago.

I grab my phone, and hit Charlie’s number.

“Hello?” she sounds harassed. I flood with relief. At least they’re okay.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” I say, sounding like an idiot. Of course it’s me. Who else has my George Strait ringtone?

“Look, Colin, the doctor will be in any second. I’ll call you when we’re done here,” she says, clearly annoyed with me. I’m not sure what I’ve done, but it’s something that’s pissed her off. Then the meaning of the words that she’s said register in my head. Doctor? In any second? That means she’s not on the road.

“Wh… What?”

“The voicemail that I left you.” She pauses for a heartbeat. “You haven’t been home yet, have you?”

“No. I’m just pulling into the driveway. What’s going on?” I ask as my heart starts racing. I park Bertha in the driveway. Fuck the neighbors if my truck doesn’t fit in with their pristine community.

“I think Ainsley has an ear infection. Brad and I were in the process of loading the tank when she just started crying, and wouldn’t quit. I called her doctor, and she said to bring her in. Brad and I are in an exam room now.”

“Poor baby. How is she?” I’m flooded with worry. My baby hasn’t had more than an upset tummy. I can’t imagine her crying, and Charlie not being able to console her. Just the thought makes my stomach clench.

“Brad’s bouncing her while they look at animal artwork that lines the halls. She’s at least calm now.”

Then it dawns on me. How can Ainsley be at a doctor’s office in Houston? Her pediatrician is here, in Dallas. Charlie and I interviewed numerous doctors before we chose Doctor Kaufman. Charlie clearly said that she called Ainsley’s doctor. “Who’s seeing Ainsley in Houston?”

“You mean what doctor?” She keeps talking before I can confirm that yes, I mean what doctor are you taking my daughter to that I don’t know. “She came well recommended by one of the nurses at the office. I haven’t met her yet. Oh, Colin, she’s coming in. I have to go.”

The phone disconnects before I can even tell her goodbye. I sit in my truck, and stare out the window at my empty fucking house for longer than I care to note.

Helpless. That’s a good word to describe how I’m feeling. Motherfucking helpless. My baby girl is in pain, and I’m not there to kiss the ache away.
It’s my fucking job.
My wife’s assistant is holding my daughter and bringing her comfort, and I’m paying him for that privilege. My wife is frazzled, and I’m not there to hold her hand, and stroke her hair, telling her that everything is going to be okay even if I don’t know that it will be. The two most important people in my world are four hours away from me, being comforted by Brad. Fuck my life.

I let Pancho out with zero enthusiasm, and sink into the living room couch while I grip my phone. She’s got exactly thirty minutes to call me back before I do something really stupid like drive to Houston when I have to be at the stadium at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.

I sit there in my quiet, still house, smelling the wonderful dinner that Chef prepared for us. Too bad it’ll go to waste. In the corner are some of Ainsley’s favorite toys. It’s even more depressing, seeing them piled up neatly instead of strewn all over the living room rug. I check the time. Charlie has ten more minutes.

Should I do a NASA countdown clock? I remember watching the space shuttle launch when I was in school. They had this huge digital clock that would tick down the seconds until launch. A space shuttle launch and football game are both very similar in a lot of ways. Most importantly, ten minutes on the countdown clock, and ten minutes left in a football game both don’t really mean ten minutes. There are a lot of time-outs and clock stops. What I mumble to no one in particular is, “Ten minutes now really means ten fucking minutes.”

Five minutes…

Four minutes…

Three minutes…

“How is she?” I ask when I answer before the phone has a chance to complete a ring.

Charlie lets out a sigh. “Double ear infection. We have numbing drops, and an antibiotic, because she also has a stuffed-up head.” Before I can say anything, she continues. “Colin, she’s fine. She has a cold. She’s not the first kid to have an ear infection, and she will not be the last.” Charlie’s using her “I’m the doctor, and everything is fine” voice.

I growl. It’s probably not the correct response, but I can’t help it. “I don’t care. She’s my daughter, and this is her first time sick. I. Want. My. Baby.” I open and close my fist, knowing that this is so much more than not being with my sick child. This is the frustrating month of not seeing my family but once since the funeral. This is the disappointment of not having them waiting for me when I arrived home from practice. This is every time that I talk to Charlie, hearing what Brad’s doing with MY daughter. This is my loneliness and frustration that I can’t get in the car and drive to them because I have to toss a ball in twelve hours.

Charlie begins to cry, which makes me feel like a dick, on top of my frustration and disappoint. “Look, I’m going to put Ainsley to bed. We’ll get up early tomorrow, and drive straight to Dallas. I think that I can still make it to your game.”

I stand up and walk around the living room, running my hand through my hair. In a much more resigned voice, I sigh. “If you can make it, then that’s great. If you can’t, or if you have to drive fast, don’t worry about it. There will be other games.”

She sniffs. “I miss you.”