Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I wanted to soak up his energy until that confidence lived in me, too.
But as I grew up, I realized how much my mom did for me, how she was always the parent when Dad was so often the friend. And when I told my dad I wanted to go to NBU, I felt that friendship we had rub raw, saw the disappointment in his eyes, like I’d let him down.
I never had the guts to tell him how many times he’d done the same to me.
He loved me in the ways he knew how. I was old enough to understand that now, to give him grace. He never wanted to be a father, not that young, anyway, and clearly he never wanted to be a husband, either. His dreams were dashed by an injury, a career in pro ball cut short. Fortunately, he had a big enough reputation that he was still able to use that name, to start a training center outside of the city and be invited on as a guest announcer for ESPN and Fox and whoever else. He found a way to still wrap his life around that sport, even when life threw him the hardest curveball it could have.
Football was what made him happy.
But I knew for my mom, it was always me.
She’d loved me so fiercely it almost suffocated me at times, but it was the purest, most special kind of love — the kind that’s truly unconditional.
She was the only one I ever broke down in front of after what happened in high school, the only one who knew I’d had my heart broken. I didn’t have to tell her who it was or what had happened — the fact that I was showing any emotion other than joy was enough for her to know I was hurting.
I still remember how she held me as I sobbed like a fucking baby, and then she made me dinner and ran a bath for me. We never spoke about it again, never really spoke about it in the first place.
But I knew from that moment on, no matter what I went through, she would always be there.
“We got the date for senior night,” I told her as I slipped into the driver seat and fired up the engine. “November nineteenth.”
“Did you tell your father?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I wanted to make sure you would come first.”
She sucked her teeth as if even insinuating that she wouldn’t was an insult. I waited until my phone connected to the car speakers before I set it aside and continued.
“I just mean… if he comes, too. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I still love your father, Leo. I always will. And I can put up with him for a few hours.” She clicked her tongue. “Now, whether or not he’ll be able to stand how guapa his ex is at forty-five years old is yet to be seen. Might have to restrain him and those jealous little cleat chasers who still follow him around.”
A smile split my face. “Alright, mamá, cálmate.”
It was slow traffic moving through the campus, some sort of holiday market going on. I was just about to turn and take the back roads to get off campus quicker and take the roundabout way home when I saw Mary.
There was no mistaking her, not even in a thick crowd of people.
She had on a pair of cut-off jean shorts, the ripped edges dripping over her thighs like webs and letting her tattoos peek through. Those shorts barely contained her ass, and the thin, red, spaghetti strap top she’d paired with them showed a sliver of her stomach. She was walking slowly, looking at all the booths before she paused at one, turning enough for me to see there was absolutely zero chance she had on a bra with that top. A navy-blue bandana with white stars framed her hairline, and the whole picture was nothing short of a patriotic fantasy come to life.
I bit my knuckle before my hands found the wheel and turned a hard left into the parking garage.
“I gotta go, Mom. I just remembered an errand I need to run before tonight. I’ll call you later this week?”
“Whenever you have time. Enjoy your summer, that’s what I want most for you.”
I smiled as I pulled into a parking spot. “Te quiero.”
“Te quiero mas, mijo.”
I hopped out of my car as soon as I parked it, all but jogging toward the booth I’d spotted Mary at. While most of Boston was flocking down to Harborfest already, the entire city was full of events on our nation’s birthday that meant you couldn’t find a street within miles that didn’t have something going on. How could we not make a big deal of our nation’s independence, with so much history weaved throughout each and every block?