Page 35 of A Shot at Love
She switches gears, growing a little more serious as she looks down the camera lens. “The hard week Annie is referring to is the recent investigation into her biological father’s misconduct when it comes to theownership of the Arrows.” It’s a kind and efficient summary. She turns her attention back to me. “But, as far as I understand it, you don’t even know Jack Smith?”
I think about Trenton’s warning to stay out of his family’s business, but I still feel compelled to say something. Holly is looking at me seriously, like she knows this isn’t just jokes about being a “nepo baby”.
“That’s correct,” I finally say, trying to keep my voice even and to show no sign of tearing up. “I didn’t know he was my biological father until a few days ago.”
Holly presses me, but in a surprising way. “And do you feel like your father’s scandal, which may or may not have anything to do with you, is taking away from your team’s recent success?”
It’s a thoughtful question and exactly what you’d expect from consummate professional Holly Rowe. Jadea will be pleased. Her fake dating scheme and our win today seem to have boosted my reputation already. “Yes, I think it has,” I say softly. “Jack isn’t my father. He didn’t raise me. He didn’t coach me. I’ve never said more than a few words to him. Maybe he thought he was helping me, but instead, he’s distracted everyone from the incredible games being played in the WNBA right now. I think it’s shameful that the WNBA is getting more press than ever right now, and it’s all because of a scandal that most players have nothing to do with.”
With that, I pass back the microphone. I don’t know if I said enough or explained it in the right way, but I tried to be honest. As I walk away from Holly, I see my mom is still in her seat, waiting to talk to me.
I know we need to hash things out. I need to explain Daniel and our entanglement, and she needs to talk about Jack. I want to be friends with her again, to tell each other everything again. I’ve hovered over the call button so many times these past few days. But my mom and I hardly ever fight, which means we’re not used to making up.
Daniel sidles over to me. “Is that your mom?”
I nod nervously. He reads my expression. “You’re still not speaking?” His words are laced with sympathy, maybe because he’s also close with his family. His parents and younger brother William.
I take a deep breath. “It’s time. We need to talk it out, but I don’t know what to say. It’s hard to be disappointed in someone you love, you know?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. It sounds like I’m talking about Daniel, about how disappointed I was when he left. Before I can open my mouth and say something, anything, he says, so softly and achingly, “I guess you just have to hope they’ll acknowledge how they hurt you. And promise yourself that you’ll try to understand their reasons.” There’s a moment of fraught silence, fragile as spun glass. He clears his throat, looking away from me and towards the stands. “Your mom wasn’t honest with you and that hurts. But she didn’t do it intentionally. If anything, she was probably scared that you’d be disappointed in her when you heard about Jack. And so, she became trapped in a paradox of her own making.”
Every word that comes out of his mouth is empathetic and kind.
Like always.
Is there a reason out there that would make up for all the pain I suffered when he left? If there isn’t, is time enough to heal our wounds?
We can’t have this conversation now, with my mom watching us from above. There’s a few more breaths of tension before I try to smile for him. He returns it tentatively. “I’m sure you’re right. She’s my mom. How scary can she be?”
I take a deep breath and start my ascent.
13
I climb up the bleachers to talk to my mom, going up to her now empty section. She seems so alone there, her pom-poms deflated, her mouth drawn down. She looks like she’s aged years in one week. I feel a twinge of guilt and hurry to her side.
I open my mouth to say, “I’m sorry.”
But she beats me to it.
I sit down in the stadium seat next to her, and she immediately turns to face me fully. “I’m sorry, Annie.” Her voice is wobbly, her eyes glassy. “I didn’t handle any of this right, and now you’re facing the consequences. I—” she muffles a sob, pressing her hands to her eyes, “I saw those signs at the beginning of the game. Those green posters, and I thought about people saying those things to you, day after day, and I—”
“Mom,” I cut her off gently. “I stopped looking at those posters. I was looking at that instead.” I point down at Daniel, who’s pretending like he’s not watching us by checking his phone absently. When he catches us both looking, he waves, showing off his Larger Than Life t-shirt.
My mom sniffles and then squints. “Did he make that himself?”
“He had some help from his assistant Derek,” I explain wryly.
She smiles a little. “It’s wonderful, honey.” There’s a lull where we’re both sitting there, not sure what to say. It’s difficult to fight with your mother when you’ve hardly ever done it before. Our usual tiffs revolve around vintage fashion finds, period-related hormones, or whoever ate the last of the Twizzlers.
I think about Daniel and his advice. She never meant to hurt me. She never could have anticipated the mess this secret being unearthed would create. She has just as much of a right to be angry with Jack as I do. We should be on the same team; we always have been before. “Mom,” I finally gather my courage, “why didn’t you tell me about Jack? I don’t mean anything big, like making new custody arrangements or even giving me his phone number; I just mean, why didn’t you mention that he was a businessman? The owner of a sports team I cherished? A billionaire? A married man? Any details of his life. It might have prepared me for this nightmare. Even just a little.”
I keep my eyes on her, steady. It’s hard, watching her fidget and seeing the glitter tears track down her cheek from her red sparkly eyeliner. For a moment, it doesn’t seem like she’ll answer. But then, she meets my gaze. “I was terrified,” she says, and it falls like an anvil in between us. “Terrified that if you knew anything about him, you’d want him in our lives. That you’d want to meet him and understand him and that you’d…” She swallows. “That you’d forgive him.”
“Forgive him?” I parrot back, open-mouthed.
She laughs bitterly. “Because the truth is, Annie, that I’ve never forgiven the man. He promised me every love in the world, every life and dream I wanted, he said we could have it all. We seemed like the love stories you see in the movies. Dramatic, maybe. Full of obstacles, definitely. But I thought we were made for each other. When he said he didn’t want to be with me, I was the one who shut him out. I won’t say he was exactly excited to be in your life, but I was the one who told him no. No money. No birthday cards. No contact.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. There’s glitter everywhere. “He might have done the bare minimum if I’d let him.”
It’s not the first time this week that my life feels upside down. Daniel was right. I feel like I’m seeing my mom for the first time. “You never said one bad thing about him.” I marvel at her. “You always said we didn’t need him. That we were perfect on our own.”
