Chapter 20

A week later, at the end of February, Mike sat behind the wheel of his BMW on his way to meet the guys at one of their new hangouts, The Players Club. Here everyone was a “player,” although not necessarily an athlete. The common denominator among patrons was full pockets.

He and Lisa had a tacit détente since the Super Bowl especially since Emily had enjoyed herself and had come to no harm at the parade. With a big brother on either side of her, it wasn’t surprising. He wondered why Lisa couldn’t see how beautifully the kids were doing. She chalked up the parade as Mike having gotten his way and was stressed until the kids arrived back home.  

When he’d grabbed his jacket a few minutes ago, she’d barely looked up and didn’t ask about his plans for the evening. He guessed she was too busy supervising homework or preparing for her debate team.  

He shrugged and stopped for a red light. Soon it wouldn’t matter. They’d stay together in the house until the end of the school year. Lisa’s request, for the kids’ sakes. Hell, he’d given it his best shot, but it wasn’t working. He still could hardly believe it. He’d once thought they’d become closer as time passed. Instead, she cut him out, and her actions demeaned him. Either she didn’t understand or didn’t care. 

Hanging around with his teammates allowed him to pretend. Pretend he was free. The light turned green, and ten minutes later, he pulled into the club’s parking lot and exited his car. Other young professionals were making their way to the front door. Each time it opened, he heard the tinkle of glasses and murmur of conversation. Exactly what he wanted and needed. 

Lisa. They’d communicated well only in bed, and damn if he could figure out what that really meant. Love? Habit? Nervous release? Every time he thought about it, he grew more confused. The sooner they cut their losses, the better. 

He pulled the club’s door open and was surrounded by party sounds—music, laughter, noise. His spirits lifted, and Mike made his way inside.  

#

“Mike, over here.”

At the bar, Darrell, Dave Steinberg, Tyrone Fox, Nate Dixon, and about half the guys who lived in the city were keeping a seat warm for him. Mike joined them and ordered a beer. 

“They’re setting up a place for us in the back,” said Darrell. 

“Good.” Other patrons had recognized them and were coming over, shaking hands, talking about the big game. Mike smiled and chatted. Fans made the business, the big business known as professional football, and none of the guys minded a brief hello. 

As they retreated to their own room, a fellow Mike didn’t recognize joined them. 

“Bruce Jamison is a financial planner,” Darrell began. “A financial advisor. He’s been working with a lot of pro athletes, not just in football. Let’s face it, guys. We earn a lot of money, and most of mine is either sitting in a bank earning a little bit of interest or I’ve spent it.” 

Mike noted the nods around the table. He belonged in that group but remained still, not wanting to show his cards, at least, not yet.  

“Hell, I’ve spent more than I’ve saved,” said one of the newer guys.

“That’s why I’ve been talking to Bruce at his office,” continued Darrell, “and brought him here so you could meet him and get educated about money. We need it.” He grimaced and sat down. 

Just how much had Darrell invested and in what?  Not that Mike had a sophisticated knowledge of the markets. Even his twenty-year-old sister-in-law knew more than he did, and he had almost seven years on her. Mike’s interests lay elsewhere. His responsibilities to the team took up most of his time and concentration. So his money sat in a bank, earning basic interest, which was a shame. He could do a lot better. 

Of course, he also bought things with it, like his BMW for winter and the Corvette for summer, the house in Beacon Hill, a new car for his dad, a down payment for his brother, winter coats and ski equipment for the kids. The kids’ stuff was just chump change. He’d bought jewelry for Lisa—diamond earrings, a diamond bracelet. She’d smiled and thanked him, but he could almost hear her calculating how much money he’d spent…or wasted. No one could accuse his wife of being a gold digger.  

Now, he was curious about this investment advisor. Mike had just earned an eighty-eight-thousand-dollar bonus for winning the Super Bowl. He could play the market with that and see what happened.

“So tell us a little bit about yourself,” Mike invited after finishing off his longneck.

Jamison spoke well, and Mike listened, recognized the prominent investment house he represented, managing one hundred million dollars in investments balanced between managed money, tax-free bonds, and annuities. The words spun in Mike’s brain.  

“And I never had a client complain about me!” The man chuckled, ate dinner, and distributed business cards before disappearing.  

Mike tucked one in his shirt pocket. 

Darrell stood, took a step toward the bar, and turned back to Mike. “There’s a lot of chicks hanging out tonight. Are you going home or staying around?”

An easy question. What was there at home for him?

“Oh, I could use a little conversation…a little noise…a little music.”

His friend looked away for a moment. “I hear ya’,” he said, “and I’m sorry.”

Mike shrugged. “It is what it is. Rocky times happen with every couple. It’ll pass.” Not that he believed it. He and Lisa had an understanding. 

“Yeah,” said Darrell. “In the meantime, you can count on us.”

“I intend to, pal. I intend to.” He headed toward the bar. And later, called a cab to take him home. 

#

Two weeks after the dinner, Mike made his way through the business district to Bruce Jamison’s office with a blank check in his pocket. The man worked for one of the largest brokerages in the industry, a name familiar to anyone wanting to invest.  To Mike, that was an endorsement in itself. And then there was Darrell’s financial statement, which Mike had seen last month. All good signs.

An hour after first shaking hands, Mike left the man’s office, the blank check still in his pocket. He wasn’t ready to hand over eighty-eight thousand dollars. Little things had niggled at him during the visit—the man’s small office, the gaudy jewelry including rings to rival Mike’s Super Bowl rings.  Most important, Jamison’s boast of performing miracles with money. 

Mike believed in miracles on the gridiron. He believed in Hail Mary passes. He believed in medical miracles. New discoveries in the labs, new therapies for patients. And the miracles of healthy babies. But he didn’t believe in financial miracles. Money trees didn’t grow in the backyard. 

Jen once said that, someday, when she handled a large portfolio-a hundred million or more-she’d have the largest office in the firm! A corner office with windows. And she’d be respected by everyone. Although he didn’t know if she was being realistic, he could picture Jennifer in exactly those circumstances. And his picture didn’t match Bruce Jamison’s environment. 

Mike made split second decisions each time he touched the ball during a game: pass, throw, or run with it. Today, he ran and took his check with him. But he’d learned something. He’d spend part of the off-season doing due diligence, educating himself on financial matters. Ignorance was costing him too much. Ironically, Lisa, who valiantly budgeted their expenses, couldn’t criticize him for past financial failings. She understood big finances less than Mike did. 

#

As spring came slowly to Boston, Lisa scoured the real estate section of the Globe. She’d have to find a new place for her and the kids to live, and that wouldn’t be easy. Or affordable. Not to mention another change of school for the younger ones. The understanding with Mike about their future had not left her heart lighter one bit. But it clarified the future. 

Once more her constant companion, a yellow legal pad, lay next to the newspaper as she worked on a new budget. She had to be practical, but the thought of asking for alimony induced a wave of nausea. The thought of telling the kids about her separation from Mike made her queasy as well. They’d hate it. They’d hate her. Maybe they’d hate him too. Such a mess. They weren’t a long-term couple who stayed together for the sake of the children. The kids weren’t even Mike’s. 

Her hand paused. Her breath caught. Mike would not agree with that thought. He’d argue about legal nonsense. Exhaling slowly, she admitted what she’d always known: Mike loved her siblings. 

Naturally he did. He was one of them. An older sibling, a playful big brother. Not a dad.

The kettle whistled just as she heard the key in the door and approaching steps. 

“Still up?”

“Going over a few things. Want some tea?”

He pulled out a chair and glanced at the table top. “Good God, Lisa. Are you still driving yourself crazy with your budgets? I thought that was over.”

Carefully returning the kettle to the stove, she asked, “Changes are coming again, Mike. You know that. And I have to be prepared.” 

He reached for the pad. 

“Stop that!” She tried to grab it, but was too slow. 

“Toiletries, school uniforms, lunches….” His eyes scanned the list.  “Rent, gas, electric….” He twirled toward her.  “What the hell is this all about?”

“We talked about it…

“And you think I’d leave you in poverty to worry about-about toiletries?” His pitch rose with an inflection of disbelief.

She winced, then said, “Lower your voice. The kids don’t know.”

“Yeah. We have to work that out. But this…this is ridiculous.” He threw the tablet across the room and watched it fall to the floor.  “I just earned a wad of money on the big game. It’s yours. All of it. Money’s not a problem for me.”

“That’s because you have it!”

“And you don’t?”

“I didn’t earn it!”  She picked up the kettle and poured hot water into two cups, and on the countertop. “Oh, what’s the use? You never understand anything.”

She hated when his eyes gleamed like they did now. 

“Try me,” he said, pushing his chair back and stretching his long legs to full length. “Let’s get down to it.” He leaned back and waited.

She stared at him totally confused. “We’ve been through it all before.” 

“Summer hasn’t come yet, Lisa. Try again.” His gleam became a challenge.

“Oh, pul-ease. I’m too tired to play games.”

“I dare you. In fact, I double dare you.”

I dare you. From the old days. When they were carefree and young and happy. Lisa Delaney did not run away from dares.

“Where to begin, where to begin.” She paced the kitchen. “Of course, the accident. No parents. And I took on the kids, and you know what happened? Lisa got lost. Cooking, cleaning, monitoring, working, round and round and round, lost in the mundane. And I never knew how well I took care of them, and you thought I was terrible and babying them. And all I could do was try, but deep down inside, way down…you know…that place where the truth lives?” She grasped the back of a chair, her fingertips turning white. “I didn’t even want to take them on. I was so scared.” Her voice hitched; her throat quivered. “But I had to,” she whispered. “They turned to me. They needed me. And I loved them. So what was I to do?

“But you?” She pointed her finger at him. “You always criticized me, my parenting—how and why this and that—and you bought them things, big things. Skis and skates and computers and games. Can that make up for a mother or father? You think money’s the answer to everything. And I don’t understand that. You weren’t brought up that way. And that’s just for starters.”

She was panting now and tasted salt on her lips. Rubbing her face, her hands got soaked. And Mike brought her a tissue.

“God, Lisa, you were once my biggest cheerleader, and now I can’t do anything right. I’m not a shrink. I thought money would make you feel secure, but obviously not.” He crouched in front of her. “What can I do to help you? To help us?”

The clock chimed midnight. “I don’t know. The answers have to come from inside me. And sometimes…still…I’m overwhelmed. Look outside. It’s late and dark, and tomorrow the sun will rise, and then the day will turn to night again, over and over. But I can’t find the rhythm. I try so hard, but everything’s out of kilter. And I have to be vigilant. My folks were wiped out. The kids…you…could be, too.”

“Oh, geez…”

“Love’s a scary word, don’t you think? There’s so much punch into that one little syllable. Sometimes I’m not sure what love is anymore. Or how it’s supposed to feel. Because if what I’m feeling is love, it doesn’t make me happy, and I think love should make people feel happy. Don’t you?”

“Go on.”

“Remember that picture? The one of my college graduation?”

He nodded and remained silent. 

“Yesterday, I stared at that picture,” she continued, “and I thought, That’s what happy looks like! I was young, with everything ahead of me. Mom said, ‘Follow your dreams,’ and I tried. You know I tried. But instead of following a dream, I was just going through the motions. I miss Woodhaven. I wish…I wish…”

“Yeah. We all wish, but nothing’s the same back there. You know that.”

“The heart yearns. The head knows better.” She sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mike. Nothing’s turned out the way we thought, the way we wanted it. I don’t even like football anymore.”

He grunted. “I noticed.”

She rose. “I’m so sorry about that, and about not…not…wanting more children in the near future. You deserve better.”

“Well…maybe we both deserve better.”

#

For Jennifer, each day that spring seemed to last forever until she could get home and check the mail. In early May, she pounced on the envelope she’d been waiting for, ripped it open, and read. Barely breathing, she twirled toward the back of the house, to the kitchen, where she expected the rest of the family to be at dinner. 

“Lisa! Mike! I got it, I got it, I got it.” She sang her own tune and continued her crazy dance as she waved the letter at everyone. 

“My summer internship with Fidelity. I got it!” She paused long enough to make her point. “I’m going to be assisting the manager of a growing mid-cap fund. Isn’t that great? Do you know what this means? It means I’ll probably have a job with them when I graduate next year. Then I’ll get my stock broker’s license…maybe one day I’ll be managing a fund, too.”

“Of course you will!” said Lisa immediately. “You can do anything you want. Just follow your dreams.”

“Amen,” Mike said. “One day you can manage some of my capital.”

“What’s a mid-cap fund?” asked Andy.

“Capital, like Washington, D.C.?” Brian’s voice squeaked.

“The boys sure take after you, Lis,” Jen said while dancing again. “I’ll be balancing your checkbook for the next fifty years. I’ll probably have to take care of all you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it now,” said Mike. “I’ve been taking an investment course online. Learning a lot. And being cautious. Who knows? After football…anything’s possible.”

“Wow. That’s great. And Mike…there’s something else.” She walked close to him and kissed his cheek. “That’s a little thank you for all you’ve done for me. I know you’ve covered the school costs my scholarships and work-study job didn’t. My suite upstairs is better than any dorm could be. I…I don’t know how to put a price on all…” She began to choke up.

“Stop right there,” he replied, his complexion ruddy. “You did all the work. I’ll be proud to watch you graduate next year.”

Mike was such a great guy. A great big brother, and she really loved him. But something wasn’t right between him and Lisa. She hoped they could work it out. Damn! They had to work it out.

“Are you going to call Doug and let him know about the internship?” asked Lisa.

“Hmm… I’ll wait until tomorrow when I see him. He’s totally wrapped up in his play.”

“Writing requires a ton of concentration,” said Andy. “Look at all the time I’m spending with the school newspaper.”

“You got sucked into the editor’s job,” said Brian. “Not me.”

“Whaddaya mean, not you? You said you’d write the sports column for me.”

“Because you begged me, not because I want to.”

Jen couldn’t help grinning. She glanced at Lisa, who made eye contact with her, and they both broke into old-fashioned giggles. The boys would never change. Funny, loyal, but with their differences, too.  

“About Doug and his new play…” Jen began, and received their undivided attention. “I may have forgotten to mention that The Broken Circle is being produced by the Theater Department in the fall. It’s not often that the university stages a student’s work. Isn’t that amazing?”

“I’ll say. So, he wrote another stage play? Not a screenplay?” asked Mike.

Lisa waved her arm in a dismissive motion. “He’s just following his artistic muse. If he starts writing poetry, you’re in real trouble.” 

Heat surged through Jen, all the way to her fingertips. Her cheeks burned, and she knew she’d turned red. She calmed herself with a deep breath before saying, “I actually think he’s brilliant, Lisa, and I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. He’s worked his butt off on this play. He’s just as excited as you were when your brand new debate team made it to the state quarter-finals last year.”

To Jen’s horror, Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “Sorry, Jen. I’m so sorry. But a playwright? If you and Doug go on together, you’ll be supporting him, maybe forever…”

“And that decision would be mine,” she said quietly. “Only mine. Maybe you should worry more about yourself.”

No one spoke. Lisa paled to alabaster, then stood, using her hands on the table to push herself up. “Finish your dinners.” She left the room, and seconds later, Jen heard the front door close as her sister left the house.

She started to run after her, but Mike’s hand on her arm made her pause and say, “Do you want to go?” 

“No. Let her be. Maybe the only privacy she can get is outside, away from us.” 

Jen wasn’t sure that’s what Lisa needed; she didn’t know what Lisa needed. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore, not even how to talk to her big sister, the rock of their family.