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“I’m glad you came.”
“Gotta start somewhere.” I stand upright, leaving Otis alone, even though he paws at my foot for more attention.
“Right. Well, let’s go then. Come, Otis,” she adds, as she starts a slow jog down the driveway, even though he jogs next to her immediately.
I take up on her other side, trying to match her slow stride. Are we talking or simply running? If the former, is she expecting me to talk first?
“I had a pregnancy scare once in high school,” Deanna starts, answering my questions for me. “Back then, I was two weeks late. I was sleeping with a guy on the baseball team and a guy on the football team.” A car drives by, interrupting the sounds of our footfalls on the sidewalk. Deanna pauses to steady her breathing. “I was freaking the hell out and scared. I was only seventeen. I had the same view on kids back then as I do now. They’re cute, but not for me for a long, long time. I went to my mother.”
Oh, fuck. This is not going to turn out well. I glance over at Deanna to catch her swallowing hard. She increases her speed, so I run a little faster to stay next to her. I want to take her hand, but she’s pumping her arms.
“She was furious. Told me if I was, she was scheduling an appointment for an abortion.” I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, trying to imagine a seventeen-year-old Deanna going to her mother for help in a moment when she was terrified. A sharp inhale comes from Deanna. “She called me all sorts of names.” Her free hand waves the imaginary words away, as if they don’t still bother her. “Told me I may have caused this, but she’d be damned if she’d be responsible for my actions because she knew there was no way in hell I could ever take care of someone else. That I wouldn’t be any good at it.”
“Deanna,” I start once she runs a little bit faster once again, but she ignores me.
“When I told her,” inhale, exhale, “she slapped me.” Inhale, exhale. “While we waited for the test results,” inhale, exhale, “she reminded me of the,” inhale, exhale, “ways I had failed and would fail.” Big inhale, exhale. “She asked w
ho the dad might be,” ragged inhale and exhale, “and I had to tell her I didn’t know.” Deanna stops running, her hands on her hips, her chest labors with every breath, but she refuses to look at me. Instead, she stares straight ahead. “That was when my relationship with my mother changed to the way it is now. To the way it was,” she corrects.
“She slapped me twice that day. The only other time she ever hit me was when she found out my grandmother left the shop to me and I told her I deserved it more than she did.” Deanna shakes her head. “My point is that when I realized I was late, it was like I was seventeen again. I could hear my mother in my head, and I could hear you.”
“Deanna,” I start again.
“I knew kids weren’t any more on your radar than they were on mine and I panicked without thinking. I reacted terribly and I’m sorry. You deserve more credit than I gave you, but there was too much shit going on in my head for me to find it. I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’ve never been so insecure about something in my entire life; I don’t know how to deal with it well, obviously.”
“Are you done?” I ask. I don’t want to be interrupted for a third time, even though I guess I was technically interrupting her.
She cuts her eyes over to peek at me. “Depends. Are you still mad?”
I grab her shoulders and pull her against me for a hug, my arms holding her tight around her shoulders. She presses her cheek against my chest. Her sigh releases the tension in her body as her arms loop around my waist. “Do you know what I’ve realized?” I ask, feeling Otis’s leash around my legs. He’s getting antsy. He leans against our legs, wanting attention that isn’t being spared to him.
“What?” she asks softly.
“I need someone who’s worth my while. Who’s worth it to me to make them a priority in my life. I need someone who doesn’t make me want to wait until I’ve retired to find someone to be with. I want someone to spend the best years of my career with, especially since I’m up there in age in the sports world. And I’ve come to this realization since knowing you, so thanks.”
“Well, you’re welcome, I guess,” she says, sounding like she’s confused.
“Deanna, darlin’, look at me.” She lifts her head, her chin resting on my chest. I tug on her ponytail. “How many times do I have to explicitly or covertly say that you’re that person before you get it?”
“But why am I that person?”
I frown. “That’s what keeps tripping you up?”
“Part of it. How am I better than anyone else you’ve dated where it failed?”
“Deanna, what kind of question is that?”
“The kind I keep thinking about.”
I sigh, realizing I need to think of an answer for her. “It’s not that you’re better; we’re just better together than me and any of those other girls were together. I’m not the same person I was back then, either. I’m older, so naturally, I’m smarter.”
“Naturally?” She smirks.
“Don’t start with me.”
“Are we good?” Her eyes are back to being worried.
“We’re better,” I amend. We’ll be good when she can prove she trusts me.
