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I needed.
For the next three days, I spent as much time as possible with Emily. There were some tasks that had to be accomplished, and I did them. Yet, my goal was to ensure Emily would not forget me. I wasn’t really worried about that. I worried that I might overlook her once I got busy. Monday, I dropped Emily at school, impressing upon her that Marcie would provide transportation after school.
“I’ll call you tonight,” I told Emily. “Be good in school and for Marcie, OK?”
“You’re not like daddy, are you?”
“Like daddy? What do you mean?”
“You’re coming back, right?”
I wanted to cry. My daughter was questioning my commitment to her. That stung more than a little. For a few seconds, I thought maybe I’d have to quit Conrid’s team and stay home.
“I’m coming back,” I said. “I promise that. You behave, and I’ll bring you a present, OK?”
“OK.”
A small kiss later, Emily was out of the car and marching into school. I watched, feeling like the worst mother on the planet. I told myself that the trip would benefit both of us. I never liked lying to myself. I wasn’t at all sure we would be better for the separation. As I drove, I promised myself that I would not be Wayne. I would not disappear.
The airport was crowded, and the plane was stuffed. Luckily, the flight was short. Codrin sat in another section, so there was no chatting. Indianapolis International Airport was not so crowded. The team met by the rental car counter. I had met the others, although I didn’t know them well. In minutes, we had broken into two groups, each with its own van. Codrin drove the van. I sat in the back. I studied the Indianapolis area as the van raced around the city on the outer belt. I tried to focus on what was going to happen. Instead, Emily’s voice kept popping into my head.
“You’re coming back, right?”
I asked myself what I was doing to my daughter. My logical mind told me Emily would be fine. In a few weeks, she would forget that I had ever left. My emotional brain said she would be scarred for life. I didn’t want to listen to either. I wanted to feel good.
Impossible.
The new few hours were spent establishing our logistics. Our workspace, that we could consult, where every essential facility was located in a rather tall building in a suburb of Indianapolis. We were briefed on the organization we were tasked to examine. I took notes, thankful for the work I had to do. Staying busy did help—just as my mother always told me. Idle people were lonely people, according to my parents. At mid-afternoon, we stopped for lunch, and pizza was brought in and placed on the table. Pizza was fine with me. It was right after the pizza that Codrin took me aside.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He led me outside, where a brisk wind met us. The cold felt good, but I knew it would soon chase me back inside.
“You’re very quiet,” Codrin said. “Anything wrong?”
I was surprised that he noticed my quandary. “No, just the usual parental guilt.”
“Emily?”
“Emily.”
“I thought as much, and I understand. When I was a kid, nine at the time, I was a huge football fan. We lived in Chicago, and my favorite team was Notre Dame. The Fighting Irish. I had the idea that I would play football for them. That was a kid’s dream, as I was never a great athlete. I played, but I didn’t have the talents needed. Anyway, my father knew I loved Notre Dame, so he got two tickets to the Southern California game, maybe the biggest game of the season. I told all my friends that I was going to the game. Since it came late in the year, it would be cold. I didn’t mind. It was Notre Dame. I didn’t care how bad the weather was.”
He turned his face away from me for a few seconds, and I knew he was tamping down his emotions. He reclaimed his poise and turned back.
“The weather actually turned out to be pretty nice for November. I didn’t sleep the night before. I didn’t think there was any way I would miss the game. Well, there was. My mother was pregnant, which didn’t mean a lot to me. She wasn’t going to the game, I was. That morning, something happened. The baby had arrived early. My father took her to the hospital. I stayed home alone until my Aunt Mary came over. I still believed that we would soon be on the road to South Bend. To make this short, my father chose to stay with my mother. My baby sister was born. No one was going to the game.
“At first, I couldn’t believe it. Certainly, my dad would recognize that I had to go to the game. My aunt said we could watch the game on TV, but that wasn’t the same, not the same at all. I remember that I had a tantrum, a breakdown, so to speak. I ran outside and screamed and cried and screamed and cried until I cried myself out. I had missed the game completely. I hadn’t even watched it on TV. The disappointment was wickedly painful. When my father came home, he told me he was sorry. There would be other games. He would make it up to me. I didn’t hear him. I didn’t listen. I was nine. What did I know?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It must have really hurt.”
“It did…for one month.”
“What?”
“That was when my baby sister Julia came home from the hospital. She was tiny and pink, and my mother let me hold her. My father had the good sense to tell me that Julia was the reason I didn’t go to Notre Dame stadium. When compared, Julia was much more important than a football game. Dad said I might not understand that at first, but I would as I grew older. In a way, I did get it. A football game would stay with me for a while. Julia would be there for decades. No comparison.”
