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I raise an eyebrow when he turns to me for support. “You know how I feel about it.”
“You’re no help at all,” he grouses. “What kind of soup is it?”
A couple minutes later, we settle at the table with bowls of potato leek soup and sourdough rolls. Mom leans over and squeezes my forearm, a sympathetic set to her mouth. “How are you? How’s Bex?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We haven’t spoken.”
She sighs as she leans back, busying herself with her soup. “I was afraid you’d say that. Do you know if she’s going to report that—pardon my language—scumbag?”
I suppress a smile as I take a sip of soup. “I don’t know. I hope she does. She wanted space, so I’ve been giving her space.”
“He’s not just giving her space,” Cooper interjects. “He’s moping in his room and researching how to become a math teacher.”
“Why?” Her eyes widen. “Oh, sweetie. No.”
I set down my spoon, looking her in the eyes. Of the three of her children, not one of us got her brown eyes, but hers remind me of Bex’s, just as warm and comforting. Fuck, a week and a half without her has been torture. “If this is what I need to do to keep her, then it’s what I’m going to do.”
“Did she ask you to stop playing?”
“No, but—”
“Then that’s not the answer.”
“Thank you,” Coop mutters into his soup.
“But I don’t know if I can do both.” Admitting this hurts, but I force myself through it. “I know Dad has always wanted me tojust focus on football, but I love her, and I choose her. If I can’t be there for her when I need to be because of my job—if I can’t focus on both at once, or let myself get distracted when I’m supposed to be playing—”
“James,” she interrupts. “What do you remember about your childhood?”
“What?”
“What’s something you remember about growing up? Anything you can think of.”
I shake my head slightly as I think. “Um, going to the Outer Banks for vacation? That time we went fishing and cooked what we caught on the beach, when we made that bonfire?”
Cooper laughs. “Izzy was so grossed out by the fish.”
She smiles; remembering, probably, how Izzy took one look at it and declared that she was going to eat ice cream for dinner. “What else?”
“Practicing football with Dad? The Christmas the power went out and we all slept in the living room? The James Day we went go-karting?”
“That was awesome,” Cooper agrees.
“Why do you think these memories come up first?” Mom says.
I answer immediately; there’s no question about why. “They make me happy.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice softer. “Those are all good memories, honey. Why do you think you thought of them instead of the times Dad was playing away games? Or when he had to go to training camp every August and we didn’t see him for a couple weeks? What about when he missed that big game of yours in ninth grade because he had to leave early to prepare for the wildcard game?”
“I barely remember that,” I admit.
“When I think about my marriage, I think about all the good memories first, too,” she says. “I think about all the wonderful moments I’ve gotten to share with your father. I don’t think about the times I was alone, or when I had to parent alone. I don’t think about the times he was away because he wasn’t, sweetie, not really. We made compromises for us to have a life together. I’m not saying it was easy, but looking back, I wouldn’t change anything.”
I blink hard, swallowing down a sudden rush of emotion. “But how? He always seemed to be able to put everything else out of his mind, and I can’t do that.”
“A lot of trust.” She rubs her finger over her wedding ring. “He knew that I supported him, and I expected him to put his work first when he needed to. When he was at work, he gave it his all, and when he was home, he gave that his all. You’re not going to be able to do everything, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be able to sort out what’s important. Youcanfocus on both. It’s not about one or the other, it’s about prioritizing.”
“But if she needs me—”
