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Obviously so did my dad because of his illness, but his worldview was more negative than mine.
Dad said, “No matter how you slice it, the world is still divided into the have and have-nots. That’s the brutal truth, and you need to do all you can to secure your future, for when we’re no longer around.”
I got what he was saying, but it wasn’t that black and white.
Mom leaned closer. “Your dad just doesn’t want you to struggle. You already had plenty of that. He wants to see you succeed.”
“What does success mean to you?” I asked Dad. “Your name on something permanent at Roosevelt?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. Coach said you keep playing the way you are, and maybe he’d suggest the clubhouse be named after us.”
“How much of a donation would you have to give?” I asked bitterly.
“It’s more than money. It’s about tradition. The Albrecht family has gone to that college for three generations.”
“And if I wasn’t that great of a player or student?” I countered. “Would they still give it to you?”
“Likely not.” He cleared his throat. “So make me proud.”
Mom shifted uncomfortably. “He already makes us proud.”
“Yes, of course. He knows what I mean.”
The table grew silent as we continued eating our dinner, the air between us thick and awkward. When we finally finished, I helped Mom clear the table while Dad got on a work call.
“Honey, I’m here if you need anyone to talk to,” she said as she donned rubber gloves for the dishes. “And you have Spencer too. He’s such a nice boy.”
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered absently.
“Any chance one of those pretty cheerleaders is single? Maybe get yourself a nice girlfriend you can confide in and talk to.”
“I don’t want—not right now. I have too much on my plate.”
“It wouldn’t hurt your image.”
Bile crawled up the back of my throat. “Why does it sound like that’s all you and Dad care about?”
She dipped her head. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I only meant—”
“It’s okay, I know what you meant. I’ll help with the dishes, and then I need to get back to the dorm.”
Before I left, I went into my room to dig out my box of treasures from childhood, retrieved Lark’s letter, and slipped it in my pocket.
XOXO
21
LARK
It was Tuesday afternoon,and Henry had seemed glum the last couple of days. Like something was on his mind.
Are you okay?I texted him at the end of the day.
Yeah, sure. But also no. My trip home over the weekend left me in a shitty mood.
Sorry to hear that. Let me know if you need to talk.
The truth was I liked Henry, always had, and I was enjoying our newfound friendship. And not only the physical part. Plus, it seemed like he was hurting and didn’t have many people to talk to about certain topics.
