Chapter 11

One week after their successful game in Jersey, the Riders lost to the Houston Texans in front of a cheering Texas crowd. More than Mike’s body ached. He’d been the starter, and he blamed himself for the loss. A close game—six points. Just one stinking touchdown difference. Why hadn’t he released the ball sooner? He needed to trust his wide receivers to be there for the catch. They’d never say it, but maybe the guys were glad Vince Shepherd would be back next week as starter. 

After a late flight, he stood in the kitchen doorway, watching his wife scribble on a pad, columns of figures marching down the page.

She was at it again. Her damn budgets. He earned more than enough for all of them. Why didn’t she get it? Maybe because he’d lost the game today? His gut twisted. “What’s the balance this time? Do we eat tomorrow?”  

“Mike!” Her face lit up, and some of his tension dissolved. “You’re home. I’m sorry about the game.” She came over and kissed him.

“Hmm…this is just what I need…plus a sandwich.” He gently rocked her in his arms, his libido roaring to life. Until he walked toward the table and picked up the pad. “You don’t need a line-item budget anymore. My money is your money.” Except she’d insisted on separate checking accounts. Glancing at her exasperated expression, he knew she wasn’t buying it.

“Every family needs a budget,” she said, “and our family is no exception. I just laid out a fifty-dollar security deposit for Emily’s violin. Fortunately, it’s returnable as long as there’s no damage to the instrument. Plus there’s a twenty-five-dollar monthly rental charge. You talk like there’s a never-ending supply of money, and that’s not true.” She walked to the fridge and started pulling out packages. “Bologna sandwich? Or chicken drumsticks?”  

“Chicken’s good. And I’m glad about the violin. Emily needs it.” He picked up Lisa’s pad and saw the sums for Social Security orphans benefits for the four kids, and Lisa’s salary. “Put all this in the bank. Save it. Earn interest.”

“No,” she said, adding some lettuce and tomato to the plate. “We’re using that money for general household expenses. You’re paying the rent and utilities, and you bought us a car. You’re not responsible for the kids’ costs, too. I am.” 

“Damn it, Lisa! You sound like a broken record. You don’t have to worry anymore. Haven’t I provided for us? Money’s not a problem now.”  

“That’s not the point. You’re doing more than your share. I have to do mine. Food, clothes…and…elective—”

“Enough!” he interrupted. He’d never recognized her stubborn side before. She was a terrier. Maybe a bulldog.  “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you—be smart and invest the money.”

Dead silence. Stony silence.

He’d blown it. He understood that the second she jumped from her seat, before she raised her chin and stared into his eyes. “You don’t tell me what to do, Michael Brennan. You ask. I’m not one of your teammates looking to you for every play.”  

What did the team have to do with anything? He was just trying to put her fears to rest. 

“In football,” he said softly, “we all have the same goal and work together. We should be doing that here, at home, but we’re not. You and I are not on the same page with major stuff. Hell, we’re not even using the same playbook.” 

He took his plate and headed for some late-night TV, vowing never to mention finances to Lisa again. 

“What major stuff? What are you talking about?”

Her voice stopped him mid-stride. He placed his dish carefully on the coffee table and turned. “How can you not understand? You’re so into being a family, but you toss me aside every damn time I want to help. I love you, Lisa, and I’m happy to help out. Don’t make money an issue between us. If we’re truly a family, then my money is your money. One checkbook pays the bills. That’s how it works.” 

“Not in my family. Separate checkbooks, separate responsibility for assorted bills.” She peered up at him. “What else? Are there other items on your complaint list?”

He’d been holding back, trying to give her time and space. But he couldn’t turn down an opening. “We need to have fun again.” He held up his hand in a stop motion. “I know, I know, we’re not like typical young marrieds…but the point is, we are young. Twenty-three. Don’t you think we’re entitled to…to have a social life? Party a little?”

Her eyes couldn’t open wider, her complexion as white as a sheet. “My parents are dead in the ground, and you want to party?” 

“The first anniversary is coming up. One year. I give you that. But, Lisa, we can’t bring them back, and I want us to have a normal life. As close to normal as possible. And that means having friends and fun. I want us to go house hunting together after the season. Boston’s our home now, so let’s really become part of it.”

Tears flowed down her face, and he felt like a heel. “I’m struggling to get through each day,” she said, “and I don’t even know what fun means anymore.” Her hoarse voice hinted at silent sobs.  “The thought of another move exhausts me. And I-I…you…oh, God…I’m afraid you married the wrong woman. And I should have stayed back home.”

His stomach tightened. He stepped toward her and cupped her cheeks. “You’re my one and only, Lis. I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Maybe,” she said, her head tilted back so she met his gaze. “But is marriage supposed to be a roller-coaster ride?”

How the hell would he know? “I’ve never been married before,” he said with a shrug, “but I understand the first year’s the hardest for every couple.”

“We’re no ordinary couple.” She deftly pushed his hands away from her and turned toward the stairs. “Enjoy your sandwich. Good night.”

#

Lisa ran up the one flight and into the bathroom. She grabbed a towel and clutched it against her stomach. The butterflies inside began their familiar tarantella, and she forced herself to take some deep breaths.  She couldn’t remember her parents ever fighting. She always pictured them laughing or chatting, no stress. Her aunts and uncles also seemed relaxed and happy. 

Now she wondered if marriage to Mike would be one more problem added to her list. As if the kids weren’t enough. The sports pages were filled with Mike Brennan stories, all positive accounts. Was he buying into it? Was that why he wanted the big house, the big social life? 

One day at a time. One day at a time. Her mantra with the kids had held her steady so far. If no crisis arose in a twenty-four-hour period, she gave thanks. But she hadn’t counted on husband issues shaking her fragile balance.    

#

“Let’s go, Jen!” Mike raised his voice as he waited for his young sister-in-law at the front door. “If we don’t leave, the creeping crud will get us.”

“I’m coming,” came a faint reply.

But Jen took over a minute to finally appear, duffel bag in tow. “I wish we were all going.”

“So do I, but not with all that coughing and fever.”

The three younger kids were sick and in bed with Lisa supervising. He and Jen were off to Woodhaven for the weekend during the Riders’ bye week. Mike had been looking forward to a little family time, but now he also wanted to escape the germs living in his house.  

Jen gave an exaggerated shudder. “The twins have a hundred and two. Get us outta here. How could the Riders survive if you were sick? Even though Vince Shepard’s starting again, you still have to be his number one backup.”

Mike chuckled as they got into his old Camaro. “Keeping track of the team? Well, thanks for your support.” 

“Anytime.” 

That was her last word for ten minutes. But as Mike covered the miles on the Mass Pike, he felt Jennifer’s glance. A troubled glance.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing.”

Right. Teenagers gave him a headache. Especially the female gender. But he’d learned a bit about Jen since he and Lisa had gotten married. And now, he just waited.

“I think I’m a little excited about going back,” she finally said. “And a little scared. It’s my first time since…you know.”

“Since we moved to Boston?” 

“Yes.”

“For me, too.”                      

“It’s different for you. You don’t have a reason to be nervous.”

Poor kid. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. My mom and dad are looking forward to having us visit. So, don’t worry.”

But the kid’s smile was forced. She wasn’t concerned about his folks, so he probed. “I bet your friends will be glad to see you again.”

“Maybe…if I can find them.”

Just as he’d suspected. She’d had issues with Stephanie and some other friends before the move to Boston. He’d bet she didn’t even know their plans. 

“I suppose you called some of them before we left?” he asked.

“Yes. Stephanie. But it was almost like talking to a stranger. Just like before we moved.  I just know she doesn’t want me. And she’s so close to Mary Beth… They’re happy I’m gone because”—her voice hitched—“then they can forget about everything that happened and feel safe again. Now, I’m just a girl they used to know.”

A girl who was more perceptive than most adults. Surely more perceptive than he’d ever been at that age.  

“Let’s give Mary Beth the benefit of the doubt. It’s Friday night. Where do you think they are?”

“Steph said she didn’t know their plans for sure.” A grin slowly marched across her face. “But I’d guess in the stands—if it’s a home game.”

“How about we drive to the high school, stroll around until you find your friends, then see what you want to do. If we can’t find them, we’ll just go to my folks’ house.”

She seemed to brighten. “Deal.”

But the field was dark when they arrived, and Mike made a U-turn and headed out. “Sorry, Jen.”

“It’s okay.” But her voice trembled. “We tried. I’ll just call around in the morning.”

“’Atta girl. I’m proud of you, Jennifer Delaney.” Whew! The life of a teenage girl was hard.

He pulled in front of the Brennan home, cut the engine, and began opening his door. Glancing at his passenger, he realized Jen hadn’t moved. She sat immobile, eyes wide open and head turned, staring across Hawthorne Street, staring at the house she’d left only a few months ago. 

To his horror, tears started to cascade down her cheeks. He’d prefer a 102-degree fever. He tapped the horn, and she jumped. “C’mon, Jen.” He nodded toward his parents, who now stood in the doorway.

“Leave me alone!” she cried. “What do you know about anything? You don’t understand.” 

Definitely a coward, he pushed his door open, stood with one foot on the street, one still in the car, and called to his mother. “Could you grab a coat and come on over?”

“I don’t want your mother,” Jen shouted. “I want mine!”

He ducked back into the car. “I know, honey. I know.” 

“And I’m never coming back here again, and you can’t make me.” She crossed her arms and stayed where she was.

He needed Lisa. “You’re tougher than a whole football team, Jennifer Delaney,” he began, trying to soothe. “I’ve got fifty guys who jump to attention when I talk, but you…fuhgeddaboutit.” Babble, babble, babble.

Thank goodness his mom had arrived. With frantic motions, he pantomimed tears on his face before Irene pulled Jen’s door open. “I’m so glad to see you.” The older woman leaned inside and touched her head to Jen’s. “I’ve been waiting all evening for you to get here, honey, because I’ve got a project for us to do that you’re going to love.” 

Mike watched in disbelief as Jennifer wrapped her arms around his mother. A shiver ran through him. Had Lisa been right after all? Had they taken on more than they could handle? 

#

Thanksgiving 2009

Dear Mom and Dad,

We’re in Maine with both aunts, uncles, and all the cousins. The kids are having a ball. You’d be so proud of how hard Emily practices her violin. “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” is outstanding! Money well spent so far. 

The Riders are in Indianapolis, so we watched the game on television. Mike started in the second half. His passing yardage is phenomenal. He says he barely hears the crowds when he’s on the field. The sports writers say he’s tough, prepared, and smart. He is smart…about football. 

Lisa sat on the bed in the “dormitory”—the large attic bedroom her aunt had turned over to the five Delaneys for the weekend. Alone by choice, away from the tumult, she had automatically reached for her journal, the one her mom had started. Thanksgiving was a family time, a ladies-in-the-kitchen time. The football game had been a welcome distraction for her and, she suspected, for everyone. Their cheers could have been heard for miles when the Riders won the game.   

She glanced at the gold ring on her left hand, a solid piece with diamond-shaped facets. Mike wore a matching one, but not when he played ball. Nothing could interfere with his sense of touch, with his skin directly against the football. 

I look around this family gathering, and I miss you so much. Despite all the noise and conversation, the game and cheers, we are incomplete without you. There’s a hole in the family, a hole in the house—even in this house that isn’t ours. In my daily life, I’m too busy to cry. But during the quiet moments, inside the cracks of time, the yearning for you overwhelms me still.  

Everyone says the first year is the hardest. If they’re referring to marriage, they’re right. Recently, Mike and I… Well, it’s been rocky. If they mean coping with loss, they’re right again. Not to mention a first full-time job. First time running a household. First time for the family living in a big city. A lot of firsts this year. A lot of adjustments. I often want to hide away.

Her memory teased her—those exciting days as a grad student in the heart of Beantown and her ordinary life back then. She planned to meet with her advisor and reenter the law program next fall. Her detour would finally end, and she’d be back on track.   

She put her pen down and reread her words, the fingers of her left hand drumming on the notebook. Under the dull ceiling light, her wedding band lacked its usual luster. She stared at it for a long moment, then raised it to her lips and bestowed a kiss for her phantom husband. Her heart thudded at the description. “Phantom husband” fit Mike perfectly during the season. He seemed to come and go, and she could barely keep track of him. Their normalcy was everyone else’s abnormal. Their marriage certainly didn’t mimic that of her own parents’ marriage, nor, she suspected, Irene and William’s relationship, either. Of course, neither of those men had played in the NFL!  

She reminded herself that the first year was the hardest. So, next year would be better, especially after she returned to school.