Page 62 of Sweeper
The bus is touristy and corny and all the things I thought it would be, but it was also loads of fun. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in ages. Zander’s silly Americanisms always catch me off guard. And the way he asks questions to the tour guide like the man is here solely for us really amuses me. But I am, in fact, learning some things I never knew before. When we were kids, we often did field trips into London, but I guess I was too young to really absorb anything useful back then. This has been a nice refresher, and the fact that I’m sitting next to a professional footballer for the entire thing is a memory I never thought I’d have in my life.
“Do you think at some point you’ll start getting recognized by people on the street?” I ask as I zip my coat up to my chin to try to stay warm. It’s February in London, so of course it’s brass monkeys out, but Zander begged me to sit on the top deck of the bus so he could have the proper tourist experience. And honestly, with those puppy dog eyes of his, it’s nearly impossible to say no. “You are Premier League now.”
Zander notices my shivering and wraps his arm around me like he’s done it a hundred times before. “Doubt it. I’m defense, and fans usually fawn over the strikers. Plus, I’m still way too new for anyone to care about. It’s the legacy players who get stopped on the streets. Ones with lots of sponsor deals and TV ads. I have none of that happening.”
“Did you have any sponsor deals in the States?” I inquire, tucking my hands into my pockets.
“A couple back in Boston that my dad set up.” Zander flinches like he said something he didn’t mean to say.
“Do you need to find an agent over here? Or is your dad still able to manage you from the States?”
The muscle in Zander’s jaw tics nervously as he removes his arm from around me and glances down from the top level of the bus to the street below. His voice is clipped when he replies, “He passed away last year.”
My lips part as I register what he just said. “Oh my God, I had no idea.”
“How would you?” He huffs out a dry laugh and tries to offer me a smile, but it’s strained.
I remain silent, feeling the full effects of what he’s just revealed. I purposely never googled Zander because I didn’t want any preconceived notions about him before he moved in next door to me. Though, in all honesty, I was already stereotyping him before we met. And then when he made a pass at me in the pub, he seemingly confirmed those thoughts I already had.
Now I’m seriously regretting not looking into him because I would have treated him differently had I known he’s just lost his dad. Been less harsh, less demanding. I certainly would have been more forgiving of his struggle to transition to a new city. My stomach swirls with regret.
I swallow the painful knot in my throat. “Can I ask how he died?”
Zander scratches his jaw and sits back in his bus seat. “Car accident. He lost control on an icy freeway and flipped his vehicle. Died instantly, or so they said.”
“That’s awful.” I blink away the burning sensation in my eyes. “Were you two quite close?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” A half-smile lifts the corner of Zander’s mouth. “I was an only child, so I was kind of my parents’ whole world. With that said, I was always a little too much of my mom’s whole world. We butted heads a lot. Dad was always the one to come in and calm the storm. He was a total peacemaker.”
That comment brings a smile to my face. “He sounds lovely.”
“He was.” Zander nods, licking his lips thoughtfully. “We talked a lot. Never about anything deep or profound…just…stuff. I miss that.”
His eyes fix off into the distance, and I wonder if I’m interrupting a memory when I ask, “Are you close with your mum?”
Zander’s demeanor shifts instantly at that question, and I see the muscle in his jaw tic before he answers, “Not as much, no.”
My lips thin at that answer because I know how important being close to family is after a loss. “She must feel very lonely now that you’ve moved so far away.”
Zander huffs out a dry laugh. “She didn’t want me to come.”
“Really?” I say, feeling both shocked and empathetic over that admission. I’m sure she didn’t want Zander so far away, but she must know that an American getting recruited to a Premier League team is a tremendous opportunity.
Zander gets a pensive look in his eyes. “She’s the reason I delayed my transfer six months ago. She was in pretty tough shape after my dad died. Still is, honestly. Not many people know this, but she came upon the accident shortly after it happened. The traffic was at a standstill on the freeway, and she had a strange feeling, so she got out of her car and approached the ambulance. They had just put him on a stretcher, and…well…it was bad, I guess.”
My body shivers with that image. “I can’t even imagine.”
“I wish I couldn’t.” Zander’s nose wrinkles. “My mom was pretty descriptive after I flew home to be with her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “She’s doing the best she can.”
“Will she come out for a visit?” I ask. “I bet she’d love a bus tour like this.”
He shakes his head, a sad look fleeting across his face. “Nah…it’s not likely. My dad always kind of had to drag my mom to my soccer matches. With him gone, I just don’t see her being brave enough to do it alone. Especially in a foreign country.”
A moment of silence grows between us, and I feel at a loss for words. I learned long ago that when it comes to loss, sometimes the less you say, the better.
