Page 108 of Goal Line
His comment gives me a moment of pause, because I know I come off that way—confident and fun-loving—but there’s a lot more below the surface. And not for the first time, I wonder if the same is true of my brothers. Do their hardened and aloof exteriors hide something softer underneath? If so, how self-aware are they?
Zach pulls Ashleigh to his side and presses a kiss on the top of her head in a tender way that reminds me of my relationship with Eva.
“Did I hear you’re from Seattle?” Eva asks Ashleigh.
“Yeah, I grew up there. My uncle raised me, and I just moved to Boston in January to start a PhD program at MIT.”
“You’re getting a doctorate at MIT?” Eva sounds genuinely impressed. “What field?”
“It’s their AeroAstro program, so basically aerospace engineering.”
“Okay, so you’re, like, seriously smart,” Eva says with a smile. “Got it.”
“Just fascinated by space. I grew up as a hugeStar Trekfan, and everything about space and space travel just captivated me.”
We chat for a bit aboutStar Trekand how Zach and Ashleigh originally bonded over their shared love of the franchise, before Ashleigh starts asking Eva about skating. As my wife tells Ashleigh about her partner, and their practices now that she’s pregnant, I find that it no longer raises my hackles to listen to her talk about Christopher. Amazing how so much has changed now that we’re finally being honest about our feelings.
“Wait, you’ve never skated?” Eva asks after Ashleigh says she can’t skate.
“No, I have.” Ashleigh glances at Zach. “I’m just not very good at it. Zach tried to teach me at the last friends-and-family day, and...it didn’t go well.”
Zach huffs a laugh and tightens his arm around Ashleigh’s shoulder. “I’m not the most patient teacher.”
“Were you on hockey skates?” Eva asks, and Ashleigh nods. “It might be easier to learn on figure skates. The longer, straighter blade provides more stability, and the toe pick can prevent you from falling forward. I’m happy to skate with you if you want to try again.”
“Eva taught skating at our local rink when we were teenagers,” I tell Ashleigh.
“I’d like that,” Ashleigh says, looking genuinely excited.
“Kiddos!” Dad’s voice booms as he approaches us wearing khakis, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and a paisley bowtie that’s slightly askew. He steps away from my mom, who was walking beside him, and loops one arm over my shoulder and the other over Eva’s. Looking down at her, he asks, “How are you doing in this heat?”
She pushes out a breath. “Surviving. Barely.”
“I remember when I was pregnant with Luke,” Mom says, stepping up to Eva’s other side, “we had the hottest fall on record. I think I spent all of September in the pool. I felt like a whale at that point.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t born in that pool,” Dad says to me. “She rarely got out.”
“Finally, the rain came, and the heat broke, and that’s when Luke was born,” Mom tells our friends, “on a stormy late-September night.”
We stand there making idle conversation for a few minutes, and I can’t stop thinking that it’s nice having myfriends, parents, and wife here together with me. When Ashleigh and Zach excuse themselves to go grab some water, Mom takes Eva’s hand and says, “Your mom and I would really like to host a baby shower for you.”
I watch Eva’s shoulders stiffen at the mention of her mother, whom she still hasn’t talked to since that dinner.
“I really appreciate the offer,” Eva says, and I note how she gives my mom’s hand a small squeeze. “Luke and I haven’t really talked about a shower yet. Can I get back to you on that?”
“Of course, dear. We’ll do whatever you two are comfortable with.”
Eva thanks my mom and looks up at me with a smile. But I wonder if she’s asking herself the same questions I am: Where are her parents? And why hasn’t her mom reached out to her since the infamous cupcake incident a month ago?
I reach out and loop my arm around Eva’s shoulders, pulling her in front of me and anchoring her there with my forearm across her chest. She relaxes back into me, despite the heat and our sweating bodies. I’d like to think that she feels safest pressed up against me like this.
“Thanks, Mom. By the way, where are Helene and Charlie?”
Eva had spent half the drive up here fretting about what it would be like to see her mom again. I know how hurt she is that Helene still hasn’t contacted her, but I’m also proud that she hasn’t caved and reached out first—her mom needs to step up and be the bigger person for once. I suspect Helene doesn’t know what to do without Eva constantly capitulating to her.
“Helene had a migraine this morning,” my mom says, “sothey’re home right now, but hoping to join us for the party tonight.” Mom looks at Eva, a softness in her gaze. “Your dad will be here tonight either way, but you know how your mom’s migraines can be.”
Eva nods, her head bobbing against my chest as she does, and I squeeze her a little tighter to let her know I’m here to support her. Because even though it’s true that her mother has suffered from frequent migraines for as long as I’ve known her, this one feels a lot like a copout.
