Chapter 12

On a warm May evening in 2010, almost a year and a half since the accident, Lisa placed two pizzas in the middle of the kitchen table and waited until everyone had taken a slice. “I have good news and I have bad news,” she began. 

“No bad news,” Jen said immediately, her pizza dropping to her plate. “I don’t want any more bad news. Not ever again.”

Lisa squeezed Jen’s hand. “It’s nothing traumatic…just that I met with my grad school advisor today.”

“That’s so cool,” said the teen. “Why’d you scare me like that?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” said Andy with his mouth full.

“Me, neither.” Brian’s voice.

“What’s an ad…advisor?” asked Emily.

She couldn’t win. Lisa rolled her eyes and glanced at Mike, whose shoulders were already shaking. His return glance had them both laughing out loud. It wasn’t the first time the kids had innocently set them off, and Lisa had to admit they needed more laughing moments. 

“So, here’s the deal,” she continued, aiming her remarks at Mike and Jen. “The good part is I can go back without losing credits for the one term I’ve already completed. The bad part is that I have to wait until next spring instead of the fall because of the way courses are scheduled. Classes travel together, so I’d pick up in the second term where I left off.”

“Lisa! Do you know what this means?” asked Jen, a wide grin covering her face. “Next year, we’ll be students together at Boston University. That is really so cool. Yay, us!” 

“I agree,” said Mike. “That is very, very cool, Lis. Congratulations.”

Despite all the “cool,” she wondered at the heat rising to her face. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. I’m disappointed with the delay, but I’m…content. After talking to my advisor, I’m beginning to think that someday, I really will have the initials J.D. after my name.” She looked at the boys. “That means juris doctor, a doctor of law.”

Her advisor, Attorney Eileen Kerry, had been encouraging but realistic. “I’m a wife and mother, too,” she’d said. “And the juggling’s not easy. You’re coping with a lot, but I’ll reserve your place in next year’s entering class. I’ll be available for you at any time. I hate to see a good mind go to waste.”

The attorney’s compliment had warmed her through and through. When she’d thanked her and said good-bye, the woman hadn’t seemed in a hurry for Lisa to go.  

“Also think about your current career,” she’d added. “Teaching a high school class—and getting results—could be just as challenging, maybe more so, than practicing law.”

Teaching? A great career for someone else. She gave her students her total attention, but her heart had been set on becoming an attorney since she was a kid watching courtroom dramas and cheering when justice triumphed.

After the meeting with her advisor, she’d meandered down Commonwealth Avenue in a daze. She’d finally done it. She’d taken the first step—a major step—toward turning her professional goal into a reality. Mom, I’m going to make you proud of me.  

“Hey, Lisa?” Andy’s voice broke into her daydreams.

“Hay is for horses. What?”

“If you went to see your ad-vis-or today, that means you cut school. How come I can’t cut school?”

“Because I said so!” 

“Ouch.” But Mike gave her a thumbs-up and locked onto her brothers. “No cutting school or you’re grounded from sports. Forever.”

The boys glanced at each other, nodded in silent understanding, and kept eating their pizza. 

She turned to Mike. “How do you do that?” 

Brian spoke. “We’re not pissing him off.” He nodded at Mike. “I wanna play real ball when I get to high school, not just at the Y. I wanna play everything. Football, basketball, baseball. So does Andy.” 

“Yeah. We’re not taking any chances.”

 “But you’re not afraid to tick me off? I’m your sister, and I’m the boss!” She wondered if Mike was holding more sway simply through gender or by some type of osmosis. “And by the way,” she added, “the correct words are want to, not wanna. I also don’t like that other word you used.”

They sighed, exaggerated sighs. “You’re a girl. You don’t understand anything.”

A gender issue after all. Or so the boys thought. Mike glanced at the ceiling, whistling tunelessly, and Lisa poked him.

“You’d better clue me in, big He-Man, because I need to know everything that goes on in their heads.” It was the least he could do. A discussion wouldn’t take too much of his time, especially in the off-season. 

“I’d be happy to provide pointers on raising boys,” he said. “Or you could ask my mom. She’s experienced.” He grinned and tousled each boy’s hair. 

Pointers. About all she could expect. How about some hands-on help supervising homework, getting them ready for baths and bed, putting lunches together in the mornings? He’d never volunteered to take any of it on. 

She clenched her jaw, cracked knuckles. Drew a breath. She imagined their custody courtroom scene as they’d waited for the verdict, and buried her frustration. In the end, the kids were hers. The judge had given her the ultimate responsibility. A wise decision. The one time she’d asked Mike to take her place at a teacher’s conference, he’d been late, and the boys’ teacher had left for the day. His good intentions needed a lot of follow-through. She couldn’t count on him to shoulder the work equally on the home front.

“Pointers would be nice.” 

#

Wednesday, September 23, 2010

The Boston Globe—Sports

BRENNAN IS THE MAN

FOR RIDERS

Mike Brennan is the new starting QB for the Boston Riders it was announced today after 35-year-old Vince Shepherd’s retirement from pro football. The succession came as no surprise after QB Shepherd was slammed to the ground and sustained a third concussion in Sunday’s game. Brennan took his place and brought in a win with a bullet pass to Darrell Sommars, who ran the ball to the end zone after the two-minute warning.

Shepherd will recover, but “Enough is enough,” he said on Tuesday from his hospital bed. “If I don’t kill myself on the field, my wife will do it for me.”

The Riders are in good hands. As a backup QB, “Cannon Arm” Brennan has garnered attention as one of the NFL’s rising stars. With his arm strength and quick release, his fast feet and smarts, he’s both a crowd pleaser and a management pleaser. In his last full game, he threw for 226 yards and completed 19 of 23 passes for a win.  

“We’re getting real comfortable with him,” said Sommars, the wide receiver who caught Brennan’s last pass for the winning TD in Sunday’s game.

“I’m looking forward to the challenge of leading this team to many victories,” said Brennan. “Vince Shepherd has been a great help to me since I was recruited, and I don’t want to let him down.” 

Talented and modest, too. 

#

Mike’s career had shifted gears, reinforcing his love for and dedication to the game. There was nothing in the world he’d rather do with his life than play in the NFL. Maybe when he was old, say, forty or so, he’d come up with another plan, but for now, at twenty-four, he was in the best place at the best time for making his mark. 

At the kitchen table in their Charlestown rental that evening, he began folding the paper, Andy and Brian standing on either side of him.

“Wait! What do they mean by modest?” Andy’s nose crinkled as he spoke. “That’s a girl’s word. We brag about you all the time. Don’t we, Bri?”

As usual, the boys’ world view put him in a good mood. He leaned back in his chair, ready to riff on the article with them.

Lisa’s horrified, “Oh, God. You don’t really brag, do you?” made him pause. And listen.

“Remember, we talked about this,” she continued, her index finger wagging at the twins. “If you’re making new friends only because Mike’s your brother-in-law, then you’re not making real friends. Dropping his name to impress people is called…well…name-dropping.”

Brian shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, Lisa. We got each other, so we don’t need anybody else, and besides…”

“…we’re gonna move again anyway,” inserted Andy with a shrug. “So, we’ll hafta meet new kids and make new friends in the new school.”  

If Lisa’s complexion got any paler, she’d become a ghost. When she didn’t bother to correct the boy’s pronunciation, Mike handed the paper to Andy. He needed private time with his wife. “How about you and Brian updating the scrapbook now?” 

“Yes, sir!” The boys scrambled upstairs to their room, which housed the “official” record of Mike’s career.

Taking charge of Mike’s scrapbook was a job the twins had given themselves and took seriously. A healthy diversion for them, something “important” they could do and enjoy at the same time. More significantly, Mike thought it nudged them forward rather than backward into dangerous, emotional territory. Distractions worked to refocus their minds.    

He watched Lisa slip papers into the kids’ “mailboxes,” devised from stiff manila envelopes and labeled with their names. He and Lisa had one, too. He still couldn’t decide if his wife’s organizational skills were sublime or absurd, but he knew they worked for her. As Lisa had explained, the kids were trained to put all school notices into her mailbox, and that was the whole point. He’d vote for anything that made life run more smoothly. 

Alone with Lisa now, he saw that “smooth” wasn’t on her agenda. He sat back in his chair, knowing he’d need awhile to convince her of the move. Adapting to new ideas had become difficult for her, something he’d learned since their marriage, when he’d had to talk her into that!

“Come on, Lis. Out with it.” Her beautiful face—that shadowed face—it got him every time. 

“This house is working out fine, and I don’t want to move and uproot everyone again. You heard the boys. The kids will have to change schools…and what about Emily’s violin…and—”

“This move will be the last. I promise. Emily can continue with Ms. Merri privately. Imagine how much better she’d be with one-on-one lessons.”

A gamine smile lightened her face. “Em is good, isn’t she? I mean…she started only last year, but even I can hear the maturity she brings to it.”

“Even you?” The modest person around here was Lisa. “Honey, you sing like a bird. You’ve got an ear for music. I’m following your lead with Emily and her violin. I trust your opinion totally in this.”

Half a truth. He didn’t need Lisa to tell him that the violin meant to Emily what a football meant to him. By fourth grade, he’d thrown that ball with his buddies every day after school. Emily, now in fourth grade, practiced her instrument every day, too, without being prompted.  

“We may be young, Lis, but we’re not stupid. Owning a house is an investment,” he continued. “We’d have a tax write-off. Paying rent indefinitely makes no sense at all.” Warming up to his subject, Mike prepared to unload the big guns. 

“Isn’t that exactly what your folks thought? Isn’t that one of the reasons they came to Hawthorne Street? And when you sold it to your tenants last year and paid off the mortgage balance, you still came out ahead. The profit went right into the bank. As it should have.”

Her brow furrowed, and she remained quiet. Score one for him. She was listening. At least, her practical side—about ninety percent of her makeup these days—was on the alert. In financial matters, it was a hundred percent.

“There are other reasons, too,” he continued, “reasons that make sense. We need more room. Jen’s in college now but lives at home. I know, I know.” He put up his hand to forestall her protest. “It was her choice to stay, and we didn’t push her to a dorm. But she’s got no place to study, no privacy here. Sharing a room with Emily is not helping Jen. She’s coming home later and later from the college library, and we’re both uneasy until she walks through our door.”

He watched Lisa pace, rubbing her hands together, twisting her fingers against each other, twisting her wedding band—all her usual nervous mannerisms. His instincts screamed for him to hold her, comfort her. He found himself halfway to his feet but then reclined again. If he cuddled her and sprinkled kisses, she’d accuse him of trying to manipulate her. She’d done it in the past over money issues, like when they’d bought their new bed. He hadn’t wanted to stint on a mattress; she thought cheap was good enough. They’d ended the argument having fantastic sex before buying a top-of-the-line mattress, so she might be onto something, but he didn’t think so. She just needed to be held.

“And then there’s me,” he said quietly. She turned sharply, her brows raised. He nodded at her. “Yes, me. I’ve been wanting a home gym with a treadmill and weight training stations as well as a hot tub.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got a professional training center at the stadium to use any time, night or day.”

“True, but I’m playing complete games now, every week during the season. Football’s a tough contact sport. The latest research shows that the effect on a guy’s body after playing a single professional game is equal to him being in a car accident.” 

Her natural color disappeared. Her eyelids fluttered.  “A…car…?”

He ran to her. Stupid, stupid choice! He shouldn’t have told her. In a moment, he held her in her arms, supporting her entire length and weight. “I’m sorry, Lis, so sorry. I was simply trying to make my point.”

“But is it true? Verifiable?” she whispered, “Or are you just trying to get your way?”

Keep your cool. He tamped down his anger, but damn it! She could frustrate him like no one else on earth. He worked hard. He was trying his best to support her. And then she accused him of…of selfishness?  Of being a me-first selfish husband. Before their marriage… No, he amended, before the accident, she was the sweetest, funniest, happiest…and most trusting woman. They seemed to be working out of different playbooks now.  

He led her to their living room and continued to support her as she lay against him on the old blue couch from Hawthorne Street.  

“I’m not answering that question, Lis,” he said quietly. “You’ll have to make up your own mind about my motives and…character, I guess. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the same guy now as the guy you married. The same Mike Brennan from Woodhaven, Massachusetts.”

“Is that how you really see it?”

“Yup.”

Lisa shook her head, sighed, and didn’t meet his eyes.  “People change. Circumstances change. The Mike Brennan from Woodhaven was not a starting QB for the NFL. Nor did he live in a big city with four kids and a wife.” 

“Who he’s trying to support as best as possible. In every way possible. Like he promised at the beginning. So give me a break here, Lisa. I am telling you again that this house is too small for us and does not give us any equity. Not one penny. And we need to invest.”

Seeming to regain her strength, she pushed against him to a sitting position. “Okay. You’ve made your point, and I’ll admit you make sense.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you told me about needing the gym to keep you safer…”

“Don’t turn into my mother,” he joked. “Let her be the one to worry. Let’s you and I try to have fun.”

A smile. He got a smile from her. 

“So how many bathrooms am I going to have to clean in this…this mansion we’re buying?”

He chuckled again, relieved that his instincts were still on target. And that Lisa was still using her rational brain. He knew she’d come around. “You’re not cleaning any bathrooms. We’ll get a cleaning service. In fact, we’ll get one now.”

“Oh, no, we won’t. I’m not wasting money on something we can do ourselves. Saturday is cleaning day around here.”

She sure hadn’t married him for his money, or even potential money. In the old days, they’d talked about their dream careers and their challenges. Never about the money they’d earn. She wanted to fight for justice; he wanted to throw a ball. He had the impression she still thought his money was irrelevant, more like a necessary evil, despite the four kids. Well, it wasn’t irrelevant anymore.

“I’m the starter now, Lis. If all goes well, my next contract will be higher. Do you understand we have no money problems? We can afford a cleaning service. We can afford to buy a townhouse in the Back Bay or in Beacon Hill,” he said, naming the two most expensive neighborhoods in Boston.

“Beacon Hill?” she whispered. “That’s for blue bloods, not for working-class people like us.”

She made his head spin with her need to find problems. Shifting on the sofa to look directly into her beautiful eyes, he said, “What world are you living in? Blue blood is out! It’s all about green these days—the color of money. And our money spends just as easily as anyone else’s, even those families living in Beacon Hill.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice trailed away for a moment, her hands restless. She focused on her college graduation photo hanging on the wall. “I can’t wrap my mind around that much money. I’m going to law school so I can defend folks who need a voice. Not to live an elegant life.”

She was harder to coach than the ten other starting players on his team. But at least the starters hung on to his every word. Lisa resisted every word, always questioning, examining. A lawyer without a degree. He took a deep breath and tried another approach. 

“What did you think was going to happen as my career grew?”

She rose from the sofa and began to pace. “Well…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about later on, but you make a good point.”  She eyeballed him. “I suppose I had a few other things on my mind,” she defended herself, “like taking care of four kids and just getting through the day.”

“Which you’re doing amazingly well,” he said calmly, praying for patience.

She crumbled. Instantly. Her lips trembled, her chest heaved, and tears rolled. “Do you really think so?” she squeaked. 

He was by her side in a second, his arms around her. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “Bottom line? No.”

“With the kids, you get an A-plus.” He allowed his voice to linger, hoping she’d pick up on what he didn’t say. He missed her. 

“Every single day,” she began, “I ask myself what my mom would do, what my dad would advise. I never know if I’m good enough.” Her sobs lessened, and she wiped her eyes with her sleeves, exactly like one of the twins would do.

Mike had his answer. Lisa hadn’t heard his unspoken question at all. Her head and heart were so focused on her sisters and brothers she had nothing left over for him. Time. Energy. Interest? No wonder he’d been feeling lonely.

Back off. He had to back off or be miserable. Grace and Robert had died less than two years ago. The kids required a lot of attention, both physical and emotional. Sometimes Emily wouldn’t let Lisa out of her sight.  

And yet…and yet…despite his rationalizations, a sharp pain pierced his gut. He wanted Lisa’s attention, too.

Coughing, he stepped away from her, squared his shoulders, and inhaled slowly, deeply. 

“I’m calling a Realtor to start the search, and we’ll move when the school year ends. By that time, I hope you’ll be able to wrap your mind around our life—yours and mine.”