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“My son was standing in the middle of my living room with certain death in his hands.”
“You know w
hat I mean.”
“I can’t bring myself to feel guilty about Troy right now. That kid is my whole life.”
“And he’s Troy’s whole life, and you and Dante are his world. He needs you right now, and you’ve all but shut him out.”
“I just can’t pretend like I’m okay when I’m not.”
“I get it, but you can fake it.”
“How? Talking to him will only lead to an argument. He needs to concentrate, and I don’t think I can just breeze through a ‘we’ll work it out’ conversation. He’ll see right through me.”
Parker picks up my phone. “His whole future is riding on the next few days. He needs your support, and he’s got to be on top of his game. Just text him, right now and say something supportive. You can hash it out when he gets back.”
“You’re right.”
I lift my phone and hit reply, my fingers hovering over the keys, but the image of Dante holding that needle is all I see, and I can’t manage to find a single reassuring thing to say. I’m still furious. Troy’s needle or not, we could have lost our son. That’s all I can think of. All I can feel. Anger. Outrage. The constant replay of my worst fucking fear.
Parker watches me, reading my hesitation. “Clarissa, his whole life is in your hands right now.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?” I sigh, handing her my phone. “I’m still too angry. His drugs or not. I’m angry. You do it.”
“Are you serious? Clarissa, this is selfish.”
“What if he is using? It will change everything. Not only will we be over, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust him with Dante.”
“I’m pretty sure they drug test in the NFL.”
“You think they can’t find ways around that?”
“Clarissa, the man has been nothing short of perfect the last few months and doesn’t have a manipulative bone in his body.”
“Have you forgotten how our son was conceived?”
“Stop it. You’re sabotaging your relationship, your happiness. Don’t use this as an excuse to push him away, or you’ll be fucking up.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re not trying, you’re running. You’re in love with that man, and you’re terrified of the other shoe dropping.”
“This isn’t a shoe, Parker. This is a kick in the head.”
“It’s not his. I know it isn’t.”
“I hope you’re right,” I stand and shake my head. “I have to get to work. Text him for me. Okay? I just can’t do it right now.”
“Fine.” She takes my phone and starts typing.
“Wait, what are you going to say?”
“That you’re sorry you overreacted, and you’re proud of him. Oh, and that you’re studying at all hours of the day for your realtor’s license as a side gig because you don’t want to count on his future millions. And that you’ve secretly been working nights to make ends meet while he chases his dreams.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Fine. I’ll leave that part out, but I don’t know why you haven’t told him.”
