Page 31 of Replay
“You said you never got to see Tower Park before so I thought I’d give you a little tour.” My lips part in shock, but my attention is diverted as he opens the door to a long, dimly lit hallway. “You’re far too young and beautiful to live with regrets. Follow me.”
He glances at my hand like he wants to hold it, so I quickly stuff it into my pocket to take that option away. I barely made it through his touch in the car, so there’s no way I’ll survive an intimate hand hold.
We make our way down the dingy concrete hallway, and Santino has to duck past low-hanging light fixtures, pointing them out to me as well.
“Was this hallway built for trolls?” My voice echoes loudly in the space.
He huffs. “No, just goblins and hobbits. Trolls have the north entrance.” He laughs at his own joke, and I roll my eyes, fighting back my own smile.
“Just around here,” Santino says, stepping back and lightly placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me around the corner, making my body hum to his touch once more. “This is the home team entrance.”
My eyes squint against the onslaught of stadium lights pouring in through the long, white tunnel. The electric green pitch shimmers off in the distance. “Oh, my God.”
I walk quickly and hear Santino behind me as we emerge out of the tunnel and onto the beautiful grounds of Tower Park Football Stadium. I shield my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light as I stand at the edge and stare out at the lush green grass.
“Can I walk out there?” I ask, turning back to find Santino watching me with great interest.
“Of course,” he replies with a laugh. “I didn’t bring you down here just to look at it.”
I stick my tongue out childishly and make my way towards the middle of the pitch where there’s a sack of footballs in the centre circle. The grass is spongey beneath my flat boots and I do a turn to take in the bright, stadium lights illuminating the grass and the stands. One whole side of the stadium spells out TOWER PARK on old wooden, white painted chairs. The other side looks like it has several suites and offices glassed off at the top. It feels big and important. Magical and overpowering.
The last time I was on a pitch like this was in Glasgow with my brother and grandfather. My grandfather was very ill back in Dundonald, and Mac took a transfer to play for Rangers as a sort of dying wish to him. After the game, we were able to come down onto the pitch, and I’ll never ever forget the look on my granddad’s face.
Pride.
Pure, unencumbered, bubbling over with red-rimmed eyes pride.
I remember watching them embrace and feeling pangs of envy for not doing more with my life to make our grandfather proud before he died. Then I remembered hating myself for having such a horrible emotion during such an important end of life moment for him. I was so twisted up in my own head that I didn’t truly take in the stadium atmosphere like I should have.
This moment right here at Tower Park…it feels like a second chance.
Santino walks slowly toward me, his hands shoved in his denim pockets like this is just another day at the office for him. “Pretty great, right?”
I nod and feel a tight knot forming in my throat. “Is it weird that I want to cry?”
His face falls with concern. “Depends on why you want to cry, I guess.”
I inhale deeply and try to compose myself, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “It’s just overwhelming.”
“What is?”
“Life,” I reply honestly, my chin quivering as I gaze at him through watery eyes. “I missed so much of it when I was drinking all the time. And then I became so hyper-focused on getting sober that I missed out on that span of time as well. It wasn’t until my mum called and told me Freya almost lost the baby,” my voice cracks as the memory of a call that still haunts my dreams plays on repeat in my mind. “She called and told me they were at the hospital and it was this strange sense of déjà vu that scared me so much, it woke me up.”
I run a trembling hand through my hair, staring up at the bright lights that are blurry from my tears. “I had so much tunnel-vision on my own journey that I was missing out on everyone else’s. My family. People who loved me and supported me through my darkest days. They were all dealing with their own personal horrors, and I was so self-absorbed my own brother didn’t feel like he could call and tell me about the most terrifying moment of his life.”
Memories of my own past flood in my mind as tears stream freely down my face. I swipe them away, trying to collect myself because this is not the time nor the place to be having a crisis of conscience.
“Helping them now…this is my chance to make up for lost time.” I clear my throat and steel myself to look brave and unbothered. “Which is why these past few weeks, being back here in London…it feels like the first time I’ve allowed myself to really live, not just survive.” I do a slow spin, pointing at the grand space all around me. “And it’s overwhelming because everything is so clear and so present, and I can see it all so vividly. It makes me feel sad for everything I missed out on before.”
Santino’s face bends with sympathy. “You’re here now, though, right?” he asks softly.
“I guess,” I shrug, still hating myself for the choices of my past.
He walks towards me. “You are here, Tilly. You’re here, and you’re doing great. You’re helping out your brother and Freya. You’re doing an incredible job with Freya’s business. Now is what matters, remember? Isn’t that one of your rules? No talking about the past. That includes self-loathing past choices, okay?”
My chin quivers as Santino reaches out to rub my shoulder. It’s a comforting, gentle caress that makes me realise it’s been ages since I’ve been vulnerable like this in front of anyone. Even my brother and parents don’t see me like this. I always told them just enough so they wouldn’t worry, but I never truly revealed all that I experienced.
I couldn’t. I was too ashamed.
