Page 9 of The Progressions

He repeated that with a little difficulty, and he had caught my use of the past tense. “Your mom is dead?”

Most people didn’t ask about her in that way, but yes, she was. “It happened when I was little,” I said. “I don’t remember her.” Most people also seemed to feel relieved when I explained that, as if my lack of memory must lessen the ache of not having a mother. They were probably right, and it was probably better forme that I didn’t recall her presence or her love, even though my dad assured me I’d had it.

“Do you like your father?”

That was also a strange way to phrase things. “I do,” I answered. “Do you?”

But Tyler didn’t respond to that. He picked up a rock and threw it far out into the water. “I thought you were taking me someplace fun. I guess you really are antisocial.”

“No, I’m not antisocial,” I corrected him. “I said that I don’t go out a lot, which is true, but I don’t actively avoid people or anything like that. I brought you here because it’s one of the nicest spots I know. Isn’t it?” I found it hard to believe that he could argue with me, not when he was standing in front of our beautiful lake.

“Is it cold? It looks cold.”

“You can go find out,” I suggested, but he stayed where he was. “We can walk up higher, away from the water.” I started to stroll across the cool sand, and he did come along with me. “What did you think about the fans today? Isn’t it inspiring?”

“Inspiring?More like…”

“Heart-warming?Welcoming?”

“Fucking insane,” he stated. “I never saw so many crazy people in one place. I remember playing here, freezing my ass off and going deaf from the crowd.”

“They get loud,” I said fondly. “It sounds like it on TV, anyway, and the announcers sometimes have a decibel meter to proveit.” I thought of the woman who had one for the fan in her bathroom; Oren had gone over to check but she was still very displeased with its overpowering volume.

“Why are you watching them on TV instead of going in person? Are the tickets too expensive?” He had removed the sunglasses, probably because he wasn’t able to drive with them in place, so I could see his hazel eyes move over my pajamas and I also recognized that they were pretty ratty. I did, in fact, have nicer clothes than these—when I’d given him and his girlfriend the tour, I’d worn my best outfit. It had been nothing next to their own stuff, though.

“The good tickets are a lot,” I admitted. So were the not-so-good ones.

He was nodding as if he’d already been aware. “The wonderful Woodsmen outprice the locals.”

“No!” I said. “Well, yes, most of the tickets are really expensive, and they also have luxury boxes in the stadium that are nicer than my house. But the team also has a program, like a lottery, where you can get cheaper tickets if you live in the area.” I had never signed up, but it was there.

He sat down abruptly.

“Did you step on something?” I asked. “Did you pull something?” Had I injured our new tight end with a walk on the beach?

“No. It is pretty here.”

Oh. I sighed in relief. “It’s my favorite spot,” I agreed, and sat next to him. “I used to come and imagine what was on the other side.”

“It’s Wisconsin.”

“Thank you, I’m aware of that.” It was more that I always wondered what else was out there, past Wisconsin, past what I could even imagine. “You could bring your girlfriend to this beach,” I mentioned. “It’s very romantic.”

“She’s gone,” he reminded me. “She’s in the Hamptons for a while.”

“Well, you could come alone, then. I come by myself,” I said, and only after I’d heard my words did I realize how they’d made me sound. Antisocial, like he’d mentioned, and also pretty sad. “I used to come with my dad.” Good grief, that was worse. “I like it a lot.”

“It’s nice,” he agreed.

We both looked at the water and listened to the light wind moving in the trees behind us. I wondered what was in Tyler Hennessy’s mind; as for me, I wasn’t worrying about the woman who had called to complain that there might have been mice somewhere in her unit since things were disturbed in her bathroom, or about the man who’d emailed (again) about the kids next door and how they laughed too loud, or about the man whose bathroom sink was (still) leaking even after Oren’s visit. I wasn’t thinking of how strange it was that I was hanging out with a Woodsmen player (I wasn’t thinking that very much).

I was only enjoying this beautiful night. I wished that I could sit here for hours, but…

“I need to get going,” I said reluctantly.

“Sticking to the grandmother hours?” he asked, and I said yes. He walked me to my car again and waited for me to lead him out, back to where his phone was working and he could find his own way. I watched the yellow SUV follow behind me through the darkness until he spilt off for whatever was next on his agenda, and I headed home.

Chapter 3

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