My pink Mercedes was a gift for graduating Stanford. It was an upgrade from the one I received for my sweet sixteen, and up until now, I’d always believed there’d be more where that came from. But, not now. Not ever again. I hated dropping it off to the dealership where my father had leased it. The general manager was gracious, but a hint of pity in his eyes told me he knew about my father’s dilemma, my entire family’s dilemma. No matter how hard my parents tried to cover this up, I knew they couldn’t for long.
“Yes, an even better car,” my mother said cheerfully, adding to my father’s delusion.
I smiled graciously, picked up a box, and headed up the long, spiraling staircase to my old bedroom.
The decorative French doors to my childhood bedroom opened to chaos. My furniture was pushed against the far wall, all accounted for by buyers, I presumed. I kicked off my shoes before stepping onto the super plush carpet so my toes would sink into the luxury one last time. This was it. Life as I once knew it was over.
The contents of my dresser drawers were already emptied onto my white canopy bed. I pushed everything into a large suitcase and moved to my closet. I reached up on my tippy-toes, my fingers searching the top shelf for the little velvet box that held my treasures. The soft material against my fingertips gave me a sense of comfort that I’d been missing. My hand gripped around the box, pulling it from its secure spot on the shelf and to my chest. I squatted on the floor and opened the little box to take inventory. I’d been living on my own since college, but Daddy was paying my bills. Now that he couldn’t, this little box of treasures was the only thing I had to make it through.
“Aww, sweetie.”
I looked up to find my mother standing in the doorway of my closet. Her hands were clenched across her chest, her eyes filled with sorrow.
“Your father had to sell everything to survive,” she murmured.
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I opened the box, stared at the empty space where my future once was, and felt doomed. “This was mine,” I said softly, lifting myself from the floor on legs that were much shakier than a moment ago.
“Katrina, be fair. He was paying your bills. You needed to finish school.” My mother defended him as usual.
“Yeah, my journalism degree, what good is that?” I snapped.
Breaking into the industry wasn’t easy, and the only way to earn your dues was through internships, which didn’t pay. That was all fine and dandy when I was Spaceman Delaney’s daughter, legendary baseball player with more money than God himself. But, what would happen to the daughter of Spaceman Delaney, baseball legend with a gambling problem that bankrupted his family?
Tears formed in my eyes and quickly made their way to my cheeks. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I knew my father had given me a good life, a magical life, but I wasn’t ready for it to end. Not just for me, what would happen to them now?
“I’m truly sorry,” my mother said, her pain evident. “Here, I managed to save this.”
Her hand extended, she waited for me to acknowledge her offering. My eyes drifted to her tightly clutched fingers and watched as she opened them to reveal a large, pink pear cut diamond ring. “My sweet sixteen ring,” I exclaimed, suddenly feeling my world lifting from my shoulders.
“Shhh,” my mother warned, placing the ten-carat ring in my hand. It was extravagant, but that was my dad. He always wanted to give me the best, and this ring was the best.
“You should be able to pay at least six months’ worth of bills with this.” Her eyes were warm and gracious. She was right. It would pay at least that, if not more. I could get a car, pay for my condo, or possibly downsize to something smaller and pay cash. That would get me by until I found a paying job.
“Thank you, Mom.” I lunged toward her, scooping her into my arms and squeezing her with all my might.
“What are you two ladies fussing about?” I quickly shoved the ring into my front pocket before releasing my mother and acknowledging my dad standing at the doorway.
With the ring in my possession and my life feeling not so desolate as it once had, my anger toward him began to melt away. “What are you two going to do now?”
Dad leaned against the door frame of my bedroom door. Mom sat down on my bed, smiling at me with an emptiness I’d never seen before. I perched my frame against the wide opening of my walk-in closet, waiting, hoping for an answer I could live with.
“We have a condo. It’s small but still close to the action.” Small traces of remorse could be heard in my dad’s voice if you listened hard enough. “And, Kitty-Kat, we don’t want this news spreading all over the place,” he continued, remorse gone. “We’re just telling people we’ve downsized and plan to see the world. Who needs a big ole place like this when we’ll hardly ever be home?”
As the delusion continued, I couldn’t hold back the emotion, and tears fell down my cheeks like a waterfall. My mother’s arms wrapped around me tightly, but the same comfort she’d offered earlier wasn’t there. I felt sick. I’d idolized this man. Millions of people idolized him. How could he let this happen?
“I want you to have this,” he said softly, bringing his hands from behind his back. He held his "Most Valuable Player" award, a large plaque he’d proudly displayed in the game room for years. Aside from his World Series ring, it was his most valued possession. I felt uneasy about accepting such a gift.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“I want you to have it,” he insisted, continuing to hold it out.
Mom released her grip on me. The plaque felt massive in my hands. I’d never held it, only admired it on the shelf in the game room where it and his other trophies were displayed with pride.
“I’ll get everything back.”
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe anything right now.
“He will, you’ll see,” my mother chimed in, defending him as usual.
My hands quivered with the award. He really was the most valuable player. I missed those days. Not only for the money. The man standing in front of me right now was much different than the one hitting balls out of the stadium.
I was certain my mother knew about his gambling problems early on, but I hadn’t. He’d done a fantastic job covering up his addiction, up until now. On the field, he was a God, commanding control of the ball, the other players, and always pushing himself past the limits of his talents. Even when my mom wasn’t able to go, Dad always took me to the games. I’d hang out in the general manager’s office while they practiced, watching from the closed circuit televisions. During the game, I’d have the best seats, often a skybox with some pretty impressive A-listers. The concession stands were aware of my father’s status, so I’d get anything I wanted. I felt like a princess, my father the king on the diamond.
“Remember the World Series game?” he asked softly.
I looked up, into the eyes that still held so much pride that they were breathtaking. I did remember. He was speaking of the last World Series, the one his team won. It was one of the best days of my life. I’d never forget it.
“You were so excited, you grabbed me from my seat and carted me around the field on your shoulders.” I sighed at the memory.