Chapter 22

A spotless kitchen greeted her when she arrived home. Not a crumb on the counter or floor. Not a plate left in the sink. Even the dishtowels were folded and stacked. Whew. Maybe she should leave the house more often.

She heard faint sounds from above and glanced at her watch. Almost eight. On the early side to prepare for the night. When she looked up, Mike stood in the kitchen doorway.

“They’re good kids, Lisa, and smart.” He waved his arm. “They cleaned up for you. And I guess for me. They sense something’s wrong, and we need to tell them.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re right,” she whispered. “It’s just that procrastinating is easier.”

“But it doesn’t get the job done. Summer’s coming. Training camp and preseason games. I’ll be busier with the team soon, and we need to get our act together.”

He was right about that, too, and she had to look ahead.  “Well, I’ve made one decision. I’m not going back to Woodhaven.”

His head jerked back. “Woodhaven? Are you nuts? Why would you have even considered it? The kids live here now. And so do you.”

His response flew at her so fast she needed to take a breath before replying. “You’re having a great night, Michael. Three correct conclusions within five minutes while I’ve agonized for months to get there.”

His eyes moved slowly from her head to feet and back up again. “Where were you today?”

Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. She had nothing to hide no matter how much he ridiculed.  “Woodhaven.”

“Geez! Why?”

He’d never understand that with all his decision-making, he’d plunged her headfirst into extra chaos after the custody battle. Their quick marriage and the move to Boston had instigated turmoil on top of grief. But it didn’t matter anymore.

“I went to Woodhaven to visit my parents.”

Now his eyes widened, any trace of fatigue gone. “Okay,” he said slowly. “How did it go?”

“Better than expected.” Considering her run-in with Irene and the tour of her old home. 

“You’re almost smiling,” he said, amazement lingering in his voice. “It must have been a heck of a visit.”

“But I’m not going back.”

“Great decision, Lis. How would I have seen the kids regularly?”

She’d never thought of that. Her surprise showed, and he could read her like a book—as he often said. Oh, well…

“Dammit, Lisa. How selfish can you be? I don’t care what in hell those legal papers say, I’m taking the kids part of the time.” He walked toward the basement door. A workout waited. 

She collapsed onto a chair. He’d been thinking ahead, as usual, and she’d been looking backwards. Her futile attempts at apartment searching had been just that. Half-hearted. Woodhaven had been the constant lure. Until now.

Grabbing The Globe, she scanned the real estate section. Then reread it slowly. Nothing was getting past her.  

#

Irreconcilable differences. It’s just not working out. Convenient catch phrases to describe reasons for a divorce, but not language the kids would understand. Or want to understand. So, Mike took a different approach after dinner during the same week Lisa visited Woodhaven. 

“Hang on a minute,” he began in the moments between the table being cleared and the kids disappearing upstairs. He got their attention and motioned them to sit down again. 

“What’s going on?” Andy asked, his eyes narrowing and his gangly arms braced on the table. 

Mike’s eyes met Lisa’s. Her lips were pressed together, but she nodded.

“Well, something is going on,” Mike began slowly, “so we need to sit here for a while and talk about it.” Three pairs of young eyes were glued to him, and he took a deep breath. “Your sister and I need a little break from each other.” He spoke quietly and soothingly, but he needn’t have bothered making the effort. 

Brian jumped to his feet. “No breaks! No divorce!” he yelled. “That’s what a little break means in the end. We don’t want any breaks.”

“Here’s what we can do,” said Andy, his intense gaze traveling between Lisa and Mike. “We already thought of it because…because…things don’t feel right in this family. And we’re not stupid.”

“Right,” said his brother. “Listen to Andy.”

“Brian and I will go back into our old bedroom, and Lisa can have the top-floor suite—Jen’s probably not there for much longer—or you can keep your master bedroom, Mike. Everyone can have a big place all of their own.”

If only it were that simple. 

He glanced at Lisa. Wide open, her violet eyes were almost black. Her mouth made an O.  

“I’m afraid, boys,” she began, “that’s not the answer. I-I know this isn’t easy…I’m looking for a new place nearby.”

Emily hadn’t said a word yet. Mike wondered how much of a setback this would be for the sensitive girl. They might be kids of his heart, but he had no authority, as Lisa had so clearly pointed out during their marriage. The hell with authority. Lisa would probably screw it up. He wasn’t letting the kids go without a fight.  

“I have an idea, too,” said Mike directly to the teens. “You guys know we’re a team, so even though we can’t arrange this legally, how about reserving all day Saturdays and Monday afternoons just for us? No exceptions.”

“But I want you every day. I want you ‘legal.’” Emily walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His lids closed, and he swallowed hard.

“You’ve got my phone number, sweetheart. You can call me any time at all,” he said, “even when I’m at the stadium. Andy and Brian, too. You guys come first.”

But the girl stepped back and shook her head. “I don’t think we do. Not us. Not Delaney kids. Because we keep saying good-bye to parents, and that’s not a good thing.”

Her words rang out as clearly as a church bell on Sunday morning. Total silence followed. The twins, without a word spoken, instinctively took their places on either side of their younger sister, their complexions pale and mouths compressed. In silent accord, the three left the room together.

Staring after the kids, Lisa said, “It’s your house, Mike. Don’t move out. It’s not necessary. I’ve been thinking… Summer’s coming. We can visit my aunts and uncles until I find a place.”

“No. You and the kids stay here. I’ll check into a hotel for a while.”

“Bad idea. Paparazzi.”

True. And he wasn’t up to dealing with the photographers yet. “Then I’ll stay with David and Nancy until I find a condo.”

“They’ve got two little kids—”

“So I’ll live in the basement.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I think we’re more mature than that. I’ll take the boys’ old room until I rent an apartment.” 

His staying would give the kids the wrong signal. A new apartment would uproot them again. “I’m going for a run.” He moved toward the front door.

“That’s better than a bar, I suppose.”

He let the door slam.

#

Death by a thousand cuts. A simple explanation and the most accurate. That’s how Mike explained the separation to his parents and to himself. They’d been aware. He’d told them more than a week ago that things weren’t good at home. But no details.

A thousand cuts. Lots of details. Some cuts left a deep mark. Like the day the boys told him they were keeping his official scrapbook with them. They weren’t handing it over to him or anyone else when he moved. The press releases about him and the Riders were still their job. No one had to articulate their reasons. As long as they had the scrapbook, they still had Mike. He’d said it was an excellent idea and grabbed each of them in a bear hug. Great kids. None better. 

Lisa was right in some ways. They didn’t hate each other. But hurt ran deep with Lisa. She blamed him for “charging in on a white horse” after her parents were killed. For thinking he had to “rescue” her. She wouldn’t have gone along with it again. Not with him or anyone. That was another conversation. But he’d spoken up, too.

“You’ve never asked me what my life is like on the road. You’ve never bothered to go with me. But do you ever wonder about it? Do you know how many opportunities I’ve had? How many women throw themselves at me? But I’ve never betrayed you. Not once.

“So when we talk about who’s been cheated in this marriage, I’d say it’s me. You shut me out of what’s important. I wanted the joy of being a dad to your sisters and brothers, but you insisted on creating a wall, a line I couldn’t cross. Until I’m forced to interfere. I wanted the responsibility of supporting this family, but you always threw your own money—orphans’ money—in my face. Give me a break! And I wanted to have children with you, children of our own. But…no. Again, we do what Lisa wants.”

So what if she’d cried? “I’m no good for you,” she said between tears. “Not what you need.”

“And what would that be?” he asked.

Her broken smile almost killed him. “What you need,” she’d said softly, “is a wife with no baggage.” She paused a beat. “And I know you won’t have trouble finding one.”

They couldn’t live together anymore. They were destroying each other. And neither of them was happy.

It had taken him three days to staunch the bleeding from those thousand cuts—or at least slow it down enough to make an articulate phone call.  

His parents’ sorrow, the pain he heard in their voices—but then his mother’s, “I knew this wouldn’t work,” led him to The Players Club and to a bottle of single malt. It was a good place to hang out for a while, at least until he settled into some new digs. Yeah. New digs. A bachelor pad. A luxury condo on the waterfront sounded good. The warehouse conversions had become a big deal in the Boston real estate market over the last few years. He’d choose one with three bedrooms in case the boys and Emily wanted to stay for the night. 

He nursed his drink. He loved the big townhouse, but the kids would be miserable moving again. Ironic that Lisa would have to stay in a place she’d never liked because it was best for her siblings. Swimming through a fog. That’s what they were all doing.   

Now, he banged his glass on the bar and nodded at the bartender. “Fill ’er up.”

#

Wednesday, July 8, 2013 

The Boston Globe

ALL AROUND THE TOWN

Super QB Mike Brennan has been seen All Around The Town on most weeknights at the city’s hottest spots including his usual, The Players Club. During the holiday weekend, reliable sources placed him in the Hamptons, New York’s summer playground on Long Island for that city’s young urban professional crowd. He’s on the move. But is he making a move on someone new? His elusive wife, Lisa Delaney-Brennan did not accompany him on his vacation in the Hamptons. She was absent when he spoke at the gala fundraising dinner for Boston Children’s Hospital last month. Here’s the question: Will Lisa Brennan be at the stadium this season rooting for her man…or not? 

Check back on these pages as All Around the Town follows this story.

#

The single life had beckoned, the life he’d never had the chance to embrace before. Ha. He figured he’d have to get used to it. The holiday weekend in the Hamptons was a start. Fast and fun. He’d gone with a teammate and wound up hanging with some guys from the NY Giants. The teams weren’t in the same conference, so no harm, no foul. And who cared when every last one of them had women on their minds and in their sights? It had been a great weekend, and he hadn’t been left out. He was beginning to enjoy blondes. They’d eased the pain for a while.

In his new condo along Boston’s waterfront, Mike gave the gossip column a quick glance and headed for the business section. He didn’t need to read celebrity news about his life. He’d lived it for three months now, handling reporters with a “no comment” comment. He’d bought the new digs quietly through his lawyer and his real estate contact, but it was only a question of time before the news would leak, and the paparazzi would besiege him again. An announcement of his and Lisa’s separation via the Riders organization would come at the end of the month during training camp. The piece would state only the facts. No details about reasons. Nothing about the kids.

How long would it take this empty million-dollar apartment to feel like home? He’d bought big, with a mortgage, so the kids could stay over whenever they wanted. They’d already visited and approved. The boys and Em were armed with cell phones with all his contact numbers listed. Damn! If only Lisa could have seen them as truly one family. But she couldn’t get past her fears and what she saw as responsibility to Robbie and Grace. Not to mention the legal paperwork. So what if the kids weren’t his by decree? Paper didn’t count in real life. The boys and Emily had been unanimous about that. 

His conscience niggled him. She couldn’t count on him, she’d said. Maybe he didn’t know how to give her the emotional support she needed.  Maybe he really was Peter Pan.  How many men played games for a living? And he intended to keep at it until he was too old or too injured. Maybe he was still a boy. 

Or maybe their lives had been based on too many schedules—school, football, music lessons, work. So much to do in twenty-four hours they’d simply forgotten to schedule in the marriage part. Their fourth anniversary was next week. Not much to show for it and certainly not much fun. 

He sighed. It was so easy to blame the other. He’d had dinner with David and Nancy a few times and loved playing with his niece and nephew; he inhaled them. His brother called him almost every day just to talk, to check up on him, more likely. But that was okay. Their relationship had always been solid, except for the time Mike had wanted to buy the couple a house. Now, David worried about Mike’s finances, and Mike had grinned. “I’m still employed at a damned good wage.”

Later that day, he’d be leaving for Nantucket, where his running back, Jack Miller, had a place. They’d do some fishing, eat fresh lobster, and run miles around the island. They’d also get blitzed. Sounded good to him. But he had to get back early Saturday in time for the twins’ baseball game. 

He also planned to host a kickoff party for the Riders’ gang and their wives, a time to bond, and something he’d never done before. The work would have been too much stress for Lisa. Stress! That’s what caterers and cleaning services were for, and he’d hired both for next week. His spirits lifted at the thought of the party. Of getting himself back on track. He’d work hard, preparing for a game, and play hard in between. 

That’s what single guys did, that’s what celebrities did, and it was about time he enjoyed the good life instead of feeling like an old married man. He’d turned twenty-seven last month. Old? Hell no! His life was just beginning. 

#

On Saturday morning, Lisa drove to the field early, the boys anxious to warm up with the rest of their team, anxious for Mike to watch them. Afterwards, they planned to go off with him for the rest of the day and do guy things—whatever that was. But Lisa had her doubts about the entire arrangement.

“Mike might not come today,” Lisa said. “Isn’t he in Nantucket?” 

“I reminded him before he left,” said Brian. “He knows.”

But it was a gorgeous Saturday. Why would he want to leave a beautiful beach and ocean for the hot city? 

“He’s with his pals,” she said. “He might forget. I really wouldn’t count on him.”

The way they could count on her. 

“He’ll be here. At least by the third inning. That’s what he said.”

She bit her tongue, thinking of the endless number of games she’d attended through the years, cheering for her brothers. Winter basketball and summer baseball, she was there. True, she’d managed only a couple of Brian’s football games last year, but that was the best she could do. As with Mike, she’d closed her eyes whenever Brian was on the field. She was her brothers’ biggest fan, but she would have skipped today’s game if she knew Mike would definitely show up. He’d already kept the boys overnight after a couple of Saturday games, however, and might not have felt the urgency of seeing them today. 

With a John Grisham novel in hand, Lisa made her way to the bleachers and chose a shady spot to enjoy the story while she waited for the game to start at ten. Jen was sleeping in after a party night with Doug and some new friends she’d made at her internship placement.   

The day was all hers—a luxury. Emily was away at a music camp run by Itzhak Perlman and his wife in Long Island. Thanks to Ms. Merri for pushing Em to submit an application, including a disk of her playing. According to Jill Merriweather, if Em were accepted, she’d be nurtured and mentored with a faculty-to-student ratio of two to one. The teacher had insisted it was perfect for Emily. 

But of course, Em had been very nervous about leaving the family for six weeks. Stay or go? Stay or go? Lisa and Mike had been in accord this time. The child needed to develop both musically and emotionally. 

“And she deserves the chance,” said Mike. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Em is as true to her instrument as I was to football.” His eyes gleamed when he’d looked at Lisa, and she’d known he’d fight her if she disapproved. This time, however, she didn’t argue, simply asked a question.

“Did you say she was far ahead of any other child in the school’s orchestra?”

“Yes. Not only in technical skill but her musicality…her interpretation is…so sensitive, so unusual for one as young as she is.”

She’d met Mike’s gaze. “Do you see any downside in this?”

And despite Ms. Merri’s presence, he’d said, “Thank you for asking my opinion. It’s the first time.”

In the bleachers, Lisa sighed a contented sigh. The day ahead had no conflict, no stress. No thinking! A day of happy things. Summertime, and the livin’ is easy…  She hummed to herself as she opened her book. Summer. It used to be easy; it used to be the best time of the year. She and Mike…so long ago. Nope! Don’t go there. Since he’d moved out—what, two months ago?—she tried never to look back. Maybe she should have done that years ago like Jen had done as soon as she’d finished that quilt. Somehow, Jen had stopped dwelling on the past as soon as she’d sewn her last stitch; somehow, she’d successfully focused on the present. As Lisa was doing now. Or trying to. 

One thing she knew for sure—Mike’s absence made the house a stress-free zone. No more arguments. No more disappointments. No more gossip about him and her.  

All was well now. Except at night when the house was too quiet. And the bedroom too lonely. And she found herself reaching out for him. So puzzling.  But she missed their intimacy.

She buried those thoughts and opened The Street Lawyer.

#

Lisa could pass for eighteen today. She was still a knockout. And still his wife. If appearances meant anything, she was better off without him. From twenty feet away, Mike absorbed the picture Lisa made relaxing in the shade with her book. Her long dark hair was piled high, shapely bare legs extended to the packed ground beneath the bleachers. Cute sandals on her feet. He could spot her in a crowd at a hundred yards. Five yards was a gift he didn’t want or need.   

Lost in her book, she hadn’t noticed him yet. Good. He didn’t want to see the frowns and creases that would form, the caution that would shadow her eyes when she spotted him. Or was it anger? He remained where he was for a moment, looking at the “old” Lisa, enjoying the view and the early memories. Then he walked to the fence where the team was gathering in their dugout. 

“Hey, Mike!” Andy’s grin said it all. “You didn’t even miss the first inning.”

“Lisa thought you’d probably forget about us,” added Brian.

“Only because you were out of town,” Andy said quickly, glaring at his brother.

Mike made a mental note about Andy taking on the peacemaker role. They’d talk about it later. His research on children and divorce reassured him that Andy’s behavior was a common one. Mike had figured out that if studying videos prepared him for a game, studying about children’s behavior after a divorce would prepare him for now.  

“Coach says I’m pitching today,” said Brian, shaking out his arm.

“And I’m catching for him.”

Smart coach. The twins didn’t even need hand signals when they could read each other’s minds. Andy had the composure to study the opposition hitters and call the right pitches. He’d set up his team’s defense like a field general. But all eyes would be on Brian. Another good fit. Brian loved center stage.    

His young brothers-in-law looked so professional in their red-and-white uniforms that, if it weren’t for their smooth faces, Mike could almost forget they were young teenagers. “Remember what I always tell you?”

They nodded.

“When you’re working out there, ignore the crowd. Concentrate. And remember to have fun.”

Their identical grins cracked him up every time. He waved and headed to the benches. To Lisa.

#

If he thought his Foster Grants and baseball cap allowed him to appear incognito at the public field, he was in for a surprise. Lisa sensed his presence from the first moment he approached the neighborhood venue. She also heard the quiet chatter, then the hum of recognition as spectators realized their quarterback was simply one of the regular folks that day, ready to watch the national pastime right along with them. She prayed he’d ignore her and find a seat far, far away. He could handle the spotlight like the veteran he was; she hated it. And who knew if the paparazzi would show up. Lots of celebs were out of town now. Mike could be fodder. 

She stared at the printed page. Grisham had become her lifeline. 

“Good morning, Lis.” 

“Hi.” She kept reading.

“PMS?”

“F-U.”

“Lisa! Lisa, Lisa. You are in rare form this morning.”

She finally tipped her head back. “I was blissfully happy. Calm and at peace. Why are you ruining that?” 

“So why’d you stay around? You could have dropped off the boys and left.” He did sound puzzled. 

“Because I couldn’t count on you showing up!”

“But I’m here. Aren’t I?” A quiet delivery. A confident delivery. 

“Well, score one for you,” she said.

“It’s not a contest, and I’m not keeping score. I’ve always been there for the kids. Unfortunately, you just never noticed.”

Then why had she done all the work? All the planning? All the worrying? “I’m not having this conversation. I’ve finally found some tranquility. Why don’t you go sit somewhere else?”

She scanned the sets of bleachers. “Damn it. Look. Right by our team’s dugout,” she said, pointing. “There are a couple of stringers covering the game, maybe from The Globe. I’ve lost track of the schedule, but I think this is an All-Star game. And it won’t take a moment for them to discover you. Damn, damn, damn.”

Mike stood. “If you’re so miserable, go home. This was supposed to be a fun day for everyone, and I’m not letting you spoil it.”

Like you’ve spoiled other fun times. That’s what he meant. 

“You’re so unfair,” she said, her fist clenched. “You have no idea of the pressure…” What was the use of talking? He’d never walked in her shoes. Never tried to. She took her book and made her way to the visitor’s benches. She didn’t care where she sat as long as it wasn’t with Michael Brennan.