Page 121 of The Frathole
I told them I was bringing someone with me but didn’t qualify it, and they didn’t ask. Maybe they just think I brought a mediator with me.
“Marty, this is my dad and my mom. Mom and Dad, this is my boyfriend.”
No hesitation. No awkward pause. Only me claiming my guy with my parents.
Marty’s lips curl upward, like he’s pleased I don’t have an ounce of uneasiness about letting them know whom he belongs to.
Mom’s jaw drops as Dad tilts his head. They stand there stunned, and Marty rubs a hand against his arm. “Nice to meet you,” he says with wide eyes and a smile.
Mom snaps out of her daze first. “Yes, wonderful.” When he extends his hand for a shake, Mom says, “If you do hugs, you might as well start now.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m fine with that.”
“But make sure you have one for me too,” Dad adds, making eye contact with me, grinning in a way that assures me he’s cool. I never imagined my parents would be dicks about this, but it’s still a relief because fuck, that would have been awkward if his parents had been cool and mine had been a bunch of d-bags.
With the introductions out of the way, I say, “I wanted to bring him here because I wished I’d introduced him to you both sooner, but also because we all need to start sharing more about what’s going on in our lives. Mom, if you have a guy you’re seeing, I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide that. But I don’t like the fact that I was the last to know everything. I’m not saying I want a blow by blow of the divorce proceedings, but I do want my parents to be my parents and to be a part of my life, whatever that looks like now.”
Their frowns suggest their sorrow about everything that’shappened, which makes me feel like crap. “I’m not saying I blame you. It was a tricky thing to navigate, but now that things are out in the open, can we make an effort to be more transparent? And no more surprises, at least for a while?”
They exchange a look. “We can do that,” Mom says. “We’re sorry. We know this must have been a lot. It’s been a lot for us too.”
“Now, come on in,” Dad says. “The delivery guy brought extra meatballs. So I hope you came with an appetite, Mart. I can call you Mart, right?”
“Sure thing, and I love meatballs,” Marty replies.
“And I brought over a trivia game,” Mom adds. “So I hope you like games.”
“Oh, not a game,” I groan.
That’s my mom for you.
“Can you just let me know whose team to be on so I can beat him?” Marty asks. “This is one of the few things I think I could win against him with, and I want to really impress my boyfriend.”
He sneaks me a look as they burst into a laugh, cutting through any lingering tension.
“You stick with me when it comes to trivia,” Mom says, guiding him into the kitchen, and Dad sidles up beside me. “I like him already, champ.” He hooks his arm around me, tugging me close, as though to remind me he’s my dad and he cares.
We enjoy dinner, then play trivia, with Mom and Marty stomping Dad and me out. When Mom and Marty get to chatting about her trip to Europe, Dad invites me to go out on the back porch with him.
“You’re full of surprises this year, aren’t you?” he says. “I’m just happy my son’s happy, you know that, right?”
It’s not only his words, but his gentle expression that tells me the same.
“That means a lot to me, Dad.”
“I shouldn’t have pressured you so much. I did really want you to go pro, partly because I couldn’t make the cut. But I never wanted it at the expense of your happiness.”
“I knew that would be how you felt. I hesitated because I didn’t want you to feel like all those years and that money went down the drain. Like I wasted your time. Because I did want it, really bad. But things change.”
His gaze shifts, and he looks out to the yard. “Speaking of things changing, it’s time for a confession. I did pressure your mom to keep these secrets—the divorce and Enzo—so please don’t put any of that on her. When we first told you, I didn’t mean to be so obvious about not wanting this. Just…the way it all played out, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, but I do think you should keep in mind that since we agreed to this, your mom’s been really happy. I mean, happy in a way I’ve never seen her before, which also makes this hard for me.”
It’s a tough thing to hear, and I can see the heartbreak as his lip twists down, a deep sadness in his eyes.
“But,” he adds, “just because I wish things had been different doesn’t mean I don’t want that happiness for her. Knowing she fell out of love, it’s better this way, even if it’s hard. I don’t want anything I’ve said or done to make you feel any way about her or us other than we had a beautiful marriage together. We were lucky enough to have an amazing kid, and it breaks my heart that you would think I would see all the time and money I spent on football with you as a waste.”
This catches me by surprise.
“A waste of what?” he says. “How many dads can say they spent that much time with their kid? That we’d even happen to have a similar interest that would allow us to share that time? I got to see every game and every practice. I got to coach when you werea kid. I got to practice with you. I willneversee a moment of that as a waste.”
