“You’re going to be late for practice,” she scolds. Her arms are crossed, and she’s leaning against the wall with a smirk on her face as she plays some stupid game on her phone.
“Yes, Mommy dearest,” I reply as I hurl one of my dirty socks at her. I’m in such a good mood today that nobody can piss on my party.
She lets out a surprisingly girly squeal, and ducks before my sock can contaminate her. “Colin, that’s disgusting, and you’re an asshole. Seriously. Are you sixteen? And now you made me lose my game,” she says in a huff as she turns to walk away, shaking her head. Then, she pauses. “Oh. By the way, Aiden called, and asked who’s coming to Thanksgiving,” she states without an ounce of concern in her voice. Before I can reply, she continues, “I told him that if he meant was Rachael going to be here, then the answer is yes. Not sure if he’s still coming. You might want to call him”
I sit back on my heels and sigh. “Thanks for letting me know.”
It’s been a year and half since Rachael told Aiden that she wasn’t going to marry him. They’ve seen each other twice. Once, when Ainsley was born at our two-week Meet Our Kid party, and at Charlie’s dad’s funeral. Both times Rachael was fine, but Aiden looked like he had a bad hangover. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve spelled it out for him: the girl you love doesn’t love you back. Move on.
Even I know that’s much easier said than done. Exhibit A: My first marriage. Exhibit B: My overdose. Exhibit C: Sleeping with random women and Jenna.
Just the thought makes me shudder.
Jenny checks her watch, and from the safety of our living room says, “Seriously Colin. Get your ass in gear. You’re bordering on tardy, and I’d hate to see you have to stay late today of all days.”
She’s right. I’ll just have to trust Alice to debachelor my pad.
****
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That’s what I feel like I’m doing at practice.
“Quit checking your watch, asshole. I’m going to think that you have a hot date,” the quarterback coach teases me as he hands me another ball to throw.
I drop back and toss it as far as I can, hitting the upright. That was a long fucking throw. I even surprised myself. “I do. I’ve got not one, but two beautiful blondes waiting to welcome me home.”
He laughs, and lobs me another ball. “Twenty bucks says that you can’t hit the upright twice.”
Is he kidding me? I smirk, drop back, and throw the football. I watch it rotate through the air and hit in the exact same spot the last ball did. I’m on fire today.
I lean toward him, making the money sign in his face while I do a bragging victory dance. “Pay up, motherfucker,” I taunt him.
He laughs. “How about if I keep my twenty, and you can cut outta here a little early?”
He doesn’t have to offer me that deal twice. I don’t even bother showering, just grab my stuff out of my locker, slip my wedding ring on, and head for Bertha. I say to myself, “Watch out ladies. Daddy’s on his way home.”
It’s a gorgeous November day in Dallas. The sun is shining. I have my windows rolled down, enjoying the breeze blowing through my truck. Old Pat Green is singing his heart out through the truck’s speakers. Life is good.
I let my mind wander. Maybe I should get a convertible for days like this. I donated the Corvette that I won for being named Super Bowl MVP to my charity. They raffled it off, and someone bought it for almost three-hundred thousand dollars. Shocked the hell out of me. The winning bidder asked if I’d sign the leather seats. Umm… sure. You just paid three times what the car is worth. I think that I could be bothered with my signature.
When I drive through the open gates of our neighborhood, my left leg begins to bounce up and down with nervous energy. I find myself trying to see around trees, and through shrubbery. I want a glimpse of what Charlie calls The Tank. Then I know my girls are home.
The closer I get to my house, the tighter the knot becomes in my stomach. Unfortunately, what my brain realized was obvious before my heart is that my girls aren’t here yet. I check my watch, knowing they should’ve arrived two hours ago.
I grab my phone, and hit Charlie’s number.
“Hello?” she sounds harassed. I flood with relief. At least they’re okay.
“Hey, baby, it’s me,” I say, sounding like an idiot. Of course it’s me. Who else has my George Strait ringtone?
“Look, Colin, the doctor will be in any second. I’ll call you when we’re done here,” she says, clearly annoyed with me. I’m not sure what I’ve done, but it’s something that’s pissed her off. Then the meaning of the words that she’s said register in my head. Doctor? In any second? That means she’s not on the road.