The classic line from the television causes me to giggle against the couch cushion my face is smashed on.
Oliver loves this show. It’s the one he always has playing in the background when I’m not insisting on watching ESPN. His friends also love it and while it took me a bit to get into the awkward humor I’m glad I did. It helps make late nights in my hotel room feel less lonely when it’s too late to call. It manages to help me feel like he’s close by when he’s not. Except now. Now, it reminds me he’ll never be close by again and that all good things usually come to an end.
“You’re actually watching this show with her?” My father asks my mother who is curled up in the recliner. “You think it’s funny?”
She gives him a sweet smile. “It really is!”
“Mom just likes their accents. You know she’s a sucker for a Brit.”
The grumble out of my father results in me and my mom laughing.
He moves around to be in my line of vision. “What do you say we go grab a quick dinner and watch the Hellcats’ game? Cliffsworth. Highland is playing in Miami.”
Oh God…. My spirit is truly broken. I would rather watch more of The IT Crowd than anything sports related. God what’s next? Abandoning my candles?
“Go on,” Mom sweetly spurs. “It’ll do you some good to get out of the house, London. You’ve been on that couch for almost two days.”
“So that’s what smells,” Dad teases. “I thought you were burning those awful Star Sensation incense again. They smell like burnt asphalt and athlete’s foot.”
When I don’t jump at the chance to tease back or at very least counter with something his shoulders plummet.
“We can go to Polly Olly’s for dinner….”
The temptation to bury my sorrows in a mountain of potatoes pulls me off the furniture. Not sure if potatoes can heal a broken heart, but they’ll damn sure numb it.
After a quick shower and change into an oversized Hellcats jersey, with knee high forest green boots and a matching cardigan, Dad drives us to the next big city over in his Mercedes SUV.
At the casual dining restaurant, the waitress sits us outside and at a table less likely to draw attention.
Once we order our usual, he asks, “Wanna talk about it?”
I flick my oversized white sunglasses down over my eyes. “No.”
He nods, but doesn’t push. “Did you finish reading the script?”
Disappointment in myself comes barreling towards me. “Shit. Sorry, Dad. I just-” I shake my head still not ready to admit everything between me and Oliver is over. “Time got away from me.”
“Usually does.” His smile graces itself at the table. “It’s one reason I like you having Oliver around. You’re usually a bit more on time.”
My emotions force my mouth to run away before my brain can stop it. “Yeah, well you can just get used to me being late again.”
His eyes widen. “Things are over?”
I swallow the sorrow. “You could say that.”
Or assume that since I stormed out and he didn’t bother coming after me. Or calling me. Or texting me.
Another wave of sadness rolls through me and I bite, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay,” Dad backs away from the subject quickly. “Have you read any of the script?”
“Some.”
“And what do you think so far?”
I shrug. “It honestly didn’t move me or fill me with that spark , but I could be wrong. That could just be me .”
He shakes his head. “We won’t do it then.”
“Dad-”
“I trust you Little L. Not just because you’re my daughter, but because you know passion when you feel it. You always have. You act on instinct and it’s one reason you’re so damn good at what you do.”
“Then why can’t I be a better ‘girlfriend’?!”
The curveball shoots his eyebrows to the top of his bald head. “What?”
I give my hair a relaxing ruffle.
When I don’t answer, my father waves a hand at me, commanding an explanation.
“If love were a sport, I’d be an epic failure.”
He gives me a sarcastic frown.
“It seems like I can never get anything right…I don’t call enough. I don’t attend enough ‘playdates’ with his family and friends. I don’t…lead him around my life like some sort of show pony. I hate trying to make him dinner. I am terrible with picking up the apartment and the absolute fucking worst at remembering we made plans.…” Guilt grabs me unexpectedly. “I deserved this. Being with Oliver was being with someone so far out of my league, I should be disqualified from ever dating again. I don’t know what the hell the cosmos were thinking, but I guess splitting the two of us apart Saturday was its way of correcting the problem.”
Our waitress places our meals down in front of us.
Before I have a chance to pick up one of my truffle tater tots, my father’s hand lands on top of mine. “I need you to listen and take what I’m about to say to heart, London. Do you understand?”
His tone is more somber than I can recall it ever being.
I instantly nod.
“Love isn’t a sport in which you win or lose. It is one that is all about how you play the game and who you play it with. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that the two of you love each other, but the truth is London, you have a habit of treating those in your life like tourist attractions. We have to beg you to pay attention to us, to come back to us, to spend time with us because your passion leads you all around the world.”
“You’re saying I’m too obsessed with my work?”
“No, I’m saying there is more to life than work. It’s alright to love what you do and let it be a part of who you are, but it shouldn’t be the only thing you are. I made that mistake, London. It cost me time with your sisters. It cost me a healthier relationship with you. Hell, it almost cost me your mother. You have to learn to let what you love to do and who you love find harmony.”
My shoulders fall.
“I don’t think Oliver is out of your league any more than you are out of his. I think that maybe he just occasionally wants to be reminded you’re doing more than playing the same sport. That you’re on the same team . That you share some of the same goals….And maybe once in a while you remember to share the ball. You’ve always been a ball hog.”
Reaching for one of the tots, I scoff, “I have not!”
“Oh, from the day we gave you one,” he laughs at the same time he grabs his fork.
Dad shifts the conversation away from the topic I’ve spent two days crying over and onto more fond memories of me growing up. However, the inspirational message from before isn’t lost in the endless anarchy of my mind. It plunges into the cracks of spirit and mollifies the pain.
“Highland is losing,” Dad grumbles from our floor seats. “ Again .”
“It’s just a rough start to the season,” I try to reassure, watching Milo Davis sink a three pointer.
“It’s more than a rough start, Little L. We’re already out a point guard and MacMiller is quickly proving why he spends more time on the bench than he ever does in a game.”
I lift my phone to take a recording of Milo. He steals the ball from the Mustang player, passes it, gets it passed back and makes another flawless three pointer. His speed, precision, and focus not only ignites the fire inside of me I always feel when watching athletes put their passion into it, it reminds me of watching my father play in his early years.
“You should make Milo an alternate.”
He darts his attention to me.
“He’s really good, Dad. Make him an alternate this year and recruit him next.”
“I agree,” Oliver’s voice surprisingly states from beside me. “As long as you keep the clause in his contract about not trying to date the boss’ daughter.”
Shock at his presence sends my jaw to the floor.
He offers my father one of the beers in his hand. “Otherwise you’ll be out another player next season too.”
The chuckle they share simply spreads the awe further.
Oliver holds out a plastic cup for me to take. “Sunshine.”
Unsure of what to say, where to start, or how to fathom his presence, I simply take the drink.
“This is really good,” Dad hums. “Is this your brother’s beer?”
“Yes sir.”
“This should be sold at the Highland games…” He stands to his feet and gives me a pointed look. “And Milo should be an alternate. If you two will excuse me. I have a few phone calls to make.”
My father strolls down the side of the court for the private exit.
Oliver doesn’t waste a moment apologizing, “I’m sorry, Sunshine.”
The nickname makes me whimper.
“I’m sorry I didn’t go after you when you left on Saturday. I’m sorry I let my stupid insecurities force me to pick that fight.” He lets his pinky hook around mine. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I wanted you to be someone you’re not.” Our eyes lock as the halftime buzzer booms. “I love you just the way you are, London. And I don’t just want you. I need you in my life. You are the light that keeps me from dying in the dark. This is me having the guts to go after what it is I really want. You .”
Another swoon slips out.
“We can take this relationship whatever direction you want at whatever pace you want-”
“ We want.” The correction receives a smirk. “We’re not just two souls co-existing, Oliver. We’re one and…we gotta get better at acting like it.”
His eyes light up at the same time he nods his agreement.
“We’ll work on finding our flow . For now…what do you say we watch this game, go back to our apartment, and have sex on the balcony?”
The crimson coat his cheeks take alleviates any lingering agony. “You wanna light up the night again, Sunshine?”
Leaning into his embrace, I look up and confess, “I just want us to disappear for a while and forget the rest of the world exists.”
He tightens his hold, plants a kiss on my forehead, and whispers, “You are my world, London.”
Adrenaline thrums through my veins and I let the truth I was too afraid to admit before fall freely. “I’m ready for you to be mine too….”