The One & Only(145)

“Okay. Well, I better get back to the movie …”

“Oh … okay. What are you watching?” she said, clearly not ready to hang up. “It’s a Wonderful Life?”

I resisted the urge to tell her that was her father’s favorite movie, not mine, and instead said, “No. A Christmas Story. You know. ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ ”

“Ha. Yeah. Right … Well … enjoy the movie. And your night,” she said.

“You, too.”

“And what about the game? Have you decided about the game?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. We miss and love you. Merry Christmas, Shea.”

“Love you, too, Luce. Merry Christmas,” I said, hanging up and thinking, Ain’t nothin’ merry about this Christmas. Nothing wonderful about this life.

I was being dramatic, for sure. But then again, getting your heart broken at Christmastime is pretty fucking dramatic.





Forty-five





I ended up extending my trip and staying at my dad’s through New Year’s, filling my days and nights with classic New York distractions. I dined at fabulous restaurants, strolled through museums and art galleries, even went ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Meanwhile, I didn’t watch SportsCenter or read the sports page or check a single bowl score for a whole week. A personal record.

It didn’t begin to mend my broken heart—I still thought of Coach virtually nonstop—but at least it allowed me to more clearly analyze my life. Since Mrs. Carr’s funeral nearly a year ago, I had vowed to get out of my rut, shake things up. I had certainly done that. I had changed everything. Yet here I was, no better off, and quite possibly in the worst spot I’d ever been in. I told myself that there was nothing to regret. That sometimes you won—and sometimes you came up short. Or, in Coach Carr’s words: Sometimes you get the bear. Sometimes the bear gets you.




On the third day of the new year, and the afternoon of my departure, my father and I went for a long walk in Central Park, just the two of us.

As we arrived at the boat pond, he cleared his throat and said, “So. Shea. Can we please talk employment for a moment?”

“Mine or yours?” I joked, bracing myself.

He smiled. “Yours.”

“Okay,” I said, telling myself to keep an open mind. I really couldn’t afford another strategy.

“Do you think you’ll go back to work at Walker? In the athletic department?”

I shook my head, adamant. “No. That’s the only thing I’m sure about. I can’t make that my whole world anymore. As easy and tempting as it is … it would feel like going backwards.”

My dad nodded his agreement. “Do you think you want to stay in journalism?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m very good at it.”

“You’re great at it,” my dad said. “I’m so impressed with your stories, Shea.”

“Thank you … I think I’m pretty decent at it, too … I didn’t get fired for my writing. I got fired because I couldn’t be objective.”

“Okay. Right. But you could be objective in another town … covering another team. Right?”

I shrugged. “Probably.”

“So let me throw this out there. I know you could find your own job, and I don’t mean to imply that you can’t, but I do have two pretty high-up connections. One at ESPN, the other with the New York Post. I’m not sure what the position or pay would be, but I’m pretty sure I could get you some interviews.”

“And so … I’d live here?” I said. “In the city?”

“Well, for the Post,” he said. “And in Connecticut for ESPN. If you want a little distance from Astrid. A.k.a. Ass Face.”

I looked at him, startled, and said, “How …?”

“You let it slip once. A long time ago. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her.”

I felt my neck grow itchy and hot. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“Honestly, it’s okay. It was funny—you must say it a lot not to have caught yourself … She can be an ass, but her heart’s in the right place. Most of the time. She really likes you. Admires you, too.”

I wasn’t sure I believed that she admired me, but I did have the sense that there was at least a modicum of respect there. “I like her, too,” I made myself say, thinking that at least I didn’t hate her anymore. It felt like a small miracle.

“So what do you think about the jobs? Do you want me to put in some calls?”