I don't think I've ever heard Dani speak in such a dismissive term to something I've ever said before. "Excuse me? Is that your professional opinion?"
“It is," Dani says, only a touch of heat in her voice. "I love you, and like I said, it hurts for me to say this, but pull your head out of your ass. You're miserable, Troy's down there in Florida tearing people apart and collecting fines like some people collect Slurpee cups, and your daughter is on the borderline of rage. And it's because of your decision, not his. He asked you to go to Florida. Hell, he begged you to at least let the two of you try the long distance thing, and you cut him off at the knees. Tell me, did you at least tell him in person this time, or did you write him a letter or maybe send a text message?"
I stop, gawping at her. "That's low, Dani. That one was real low."
Dani nods, her eyes reflections of my own pain and hurt. "Maybe. But I won’t stand idly by as my sister and the second best man I know in the entire world tear themselves apart. Not again. I love you, but you’re wrong in this, and all three of you are paying the price."
I get up, setting my cup down. “You might be right. I need to go. I . . . I need to think."
There's no rancor in Dani's voice as she walks me to the door and opens it for me. "I'll still be here, if you ever want to talk with me again."
I nod and squeeze her hand. She maybe has pissed me off, but I still love her. "I know. I love you, Sis."
"I love you too. Go think."
When I get home after driving the long way back in order to spend more time thinking, I see that Mom has already had Laurie change into her pajamas, and the two of them are sitting on the couch, snuggled up and reading one of Laurie's Little Golden Books. "I'm back. Mom, I need to apologize to you. I know you're just trying to be helpful."
"Thank you, sweetheart. Would you like to take over? I need to use the bathroom.”
"Actually, I'd like to talk to Laurie. You spent a lot of time today coloring at the Gallery. Think you can you show me your pictures?"
She moves off Mom's lap so that Mom can leave the living room, but she doesn't say anything. I go over and sit down next to her, taking her hand. "Laurie? Can I ask you something? Are you angry with me?”
She barely moves her head, but the tiny nod she gives me nearly breaks my heart. "Mama wants to understand. Please help me understand. I know that sometimes, kids don't always say things that are troubling them, and I was hoping that you might be able to show me. I thought your pictures could help. Could they?"
Laurie nods again, and I slide off the couch, getting on my knees in front of her. "I promise, no matter what you drew, I won't get mad, and I won't raise my voice or yell or anything like that. I want us to not be angry, to be good together again."
Laurie nods and gets off the couch, going over to the chair where she'd put her little school bag and bringing it back. "Don't be mad, Mama," she said in the tiniest voice I've ever heard her use as she unzips the bag and takes out the sheaf of papers inside. She hands them to me, and I see the top one, a man in a black shirt and white pants, wearing a black helmet and a number 51 on the front. The second is another giant 51, and the third brings tears to my eyes as the three stick figures that make up the family—the man and little girl with blond hair, the woman with auburn—are separated, frowns and tears rolling down their faces.
"Oh, Laurie," I moan, putting the papers aside. "Mama has been so foolish."
I pull her close, hugging her. "I want Daddy back.”
"I want him too, Laurie. I need him too."
Chapter 26
Troy
"Troy Wood! We love you!"
I look up as I leave the practice facility to see the group of fans that have assembled around the gates. We've won two of our last three games, and the way the team is rolling, we've got a chance at maybe making the playoffs. With the success comes the fans again, and apparently, I'm becoming a sex symbol in Jacksonville, because for the past two weeks, I can barely leave the stadium without having women almost throwing themselves at me. Actually, one woman did throw herself at me, hurling herself into my arms after the team got back from a road win at New York.
The guy I used to be would’ve been loving it. They are Florida girls, after all, sun tanned and bikini toned, and they are lined up when I occasionally pause to sign autographs. It's part of my tradeoff with the team. They keep the league off my ass other than the fines for my arm tape, and in return, I sign more autographs and do some more photo ops.