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Mom’s phone.
Fully charged
The picture on the front is Pop, smiling coyly. There’s a gleam in his eye. This must be several years old.
With every moment, I both exhale and hold my breath.
The screen dissolves into a picture of the four of us from Brighton’s graduation from vet school. Exton was in town from an FBI assignment somewhere in South America. I hadn’t left for two-a-days yet, and Braxton took the day off and threw on a sport coat for the occasion. They hold out their rings from A&M while Exton looks to the sky, and I shrug. Each of us is captured so true to who we are.
I want to look at her pictures.
I want to see every app.
But Ineedto see her messages.
She didn’t pin any favorites. She left everything in order of last sent or last received. And there I am, third from the top. My picture is from senior day at Oklahoma. Crimson uniform jersey, white helmet under my arm. Mom under my other. She cropped out everyone else.
For some reason, that causes a laugh to bubble up. It comes out as a sob, but it’s a laugh.
At that moment, Kyle tiptoes out and slides to lie by me, rolling onto my left side. It’s not as bad as it used to be.
With a huge breath, I open the thread.
And bawl my thirty-year-old eyes out.
It’s here. It’s all here.
For as long as you need it, son.
I can hear her. I can feel her. I have her back. Not enough, but… enough.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
FIFTY-ONE
I LOVE ATLANTA
LIVY
The next handful of weeks flew by.
Layton called the NFL commissioner and asked for a special meeting regarding some expectations around agents and how they’re vetted, and specifically, how to guarantee rookies have the education they need to make informed decisions. He cited Tingle, Schmidt, and Asses, as we’ve come to call them, and mentioned that he was one of the victims of them suppressing the competition by eliminating it.
We began looking into property to invest some of the proceeds from the sale of his home in Florida.
We went to New York City and met with Excel on a business proposal they’re keen to flesh out in the months and years to come. Tally wasn’t available to see me or to meet Layton. It was a long shot anyway, but I’d held out hope.
I tried my parents a couple of times, hoping to connect. I either got voicemail or a quick, “We’re on our way out the door. Another time?” I stopped after the last one.
Tommy, on the other hand, won’t stop, but Layton has a plan, and it’s worth the annoyance now to enjoy later, so I keep screening and declining the calls.
Finally, we came to Atlanta to see Dr. Jeffrey. She drew blood and did a complete workup. She did it at cost for two reasons. One, we’re paying cash, and two, Layton pulled some strings to get us on the sidelines for tonight’s Monday night football game against Carolina.
“You’re a hell of a negotiator, Mr. Ranger.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. You don’t seem to be a person who sways easily.”
“For my Falcons, I do.”
