Page 77 of Keeping the Score

I catch Dahlia’s knowing smirk.

Uh oh.

23

FORD

My parents have been here a few days, but I haven’t seen much of them. The team practiced on Friday, then had a game on Long Island Saturday night, which isn’t an overnight trip, but then a home game the very next day. Finally, I have a day off on Monday. The worst thing about this is not seeing Andi much. Andi and Tilly and my parents did come to the Sunday game, soshegot to spend time with them. Which freaked her the fuck out.

I listened to her apprehension and reluctance, then set my hands on her shoulders, kissed her to shut her up, and said, “I want you there.”

Mom and Dad take Tilly and me shopping and buy a bunch of gifts for Tilly—toys, books, weird little clothes. I’m not even kidding—a pink onesie and flowered bell-bottom pants—she can’t even walk!—a one-piece furry outfit with ears that looks like a bear, and a set of footie rompers in navy, brown, and beige.

“These are gender-neutral colors,” Mom says. “Pink is cute, but she doesn’thaveto wear pink.”

I hold back my smile. “True.”

We have lunch at a family-type restaurant. While we try to keep Tilly amused, Mom says, “So tell me the truth about Andi.”

I blink over at her. “The truth?”

“Yes.” One corner of her mouth lifts in a half-smile. “You said she’s a friend, but she’s clearly much more than that.”

“Uh…”

“The way you both look at each other. The way you talk to each other. The care you take with each other.” She tilts her head and lifts her eyebrows.

I glance at Dad. He, too, waits expectantly.

Huh. “Okay.” I rub the back of my neck. “We’re more than friends. But it’s not… neither of us wants to get involved seriously. She just got out of a marriage where her husband cheated on her.”

“Oh, no!” Mom’s hand flies to her mouth. “That poor girl.”

“And you know I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m focused on hockey.”

She regards me thoughtfully. “Yes. You always have been.”

“Don’t worry. I know how much you did for me and what you sacrificed so I could play. I won’t let you down by not doing my best.” I pause. “I owe you that.”

Once again, she’s silent and I give Tilly another toy.

“That’s wrong,” she finally says.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t owe us anything.”

I stare blankly at her. “I feel like I do.”

“You shouldn’t feel like that. Is that what motivates you to work so hard?”

“Yeah.” I pause. “Some.”

She shakes her head. “You shouldn’t want to work hard for us. We don’t expect that. Children don’t owe their parents anything. Even gratitude. Although I’m glad you feel gratitude. That’s important for a happy life. But we did everything we did because we love you. Not because we expect anything from youin return. You’ve been very generous to us and we appreciate that. I hope you don’t do that because you think we expect it.”

“Uh. No. No, I did those things because… I love you, too.”

“Exactly.” She smiles. “And you should play hockey because you love it. Not because you owe us.”

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