The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(5)
My phone buzzes and I glance down to see the preview of texts from Hollis and River.
Hollis: Dude, you there?
River: If I were you, I’d seize this opportunity. Take it.
“Shit,” I say, rubbing my palm over my right eye.
“You know I’m right.” Hutton bumps his shoulder with mine. “Look, I have no clue how a trip to Germany can bring you . . . peace or closure, but what if what Pops wanted comes true? What if it gives you a place to find yourself? To end up feeling grateful and not angry?” What I wish is that Pops had spoken to me about this. Told me these words rather than write whatever is in his letter. But at least he took the time to write something.
“Yeah. I guess. Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He snags a Funyun from the bag. “You should know that by now. And when you text River and Hollis back, let them know just how right I am.”
That makes me chuckle. “Never going to happen.”
He scoffs. “Always depriving me of my glory.” And before I can respond, Hutton wraps his arm around me and pulls me into a hug, giving me a good slap on my back. “Love you, man.”
I return the embrace, not ashamed of showing one of my best friends affection. “Love you too, man.”
After a few minutes of silence and staring at the ocean, Hutton takes off toward the house to go to the bathroom. “I’ll be right there,” I say.
When he’s out of sight, I reach into my pocket and pull out the note. Bracing myself, I unfold it and read.
Hey Kiddo,
Because I know you well, I know you’re probably angry at me and your parents for not telling you about my sickness. But I didn’t want you to lose focus on your goals. And you know what? I’m sad I won’t get to hug you one more time too, because you give the best hugs. I’m sad I won’t be able to sit beneath the oak tree with you one last time, sharing bad jokes and wise anecdotes. But I’m not sorry you’re not seeing me deteriorate. We had so many great times together, and if there is one thing I’m thankful for in my life, it’s you.
Please go on this trip and enjoy seeing a part of the world I wanted to show you myself one day. Please open your eyes and see the bigger world through a wider lens.
Love you.
Pops
Chapter Two
CREW
“Did you get something to eat?”
“Yes, Mom,” I say with a sigh into my wireless earbuds as I walk through LaGuardia International Airport.
“And did you go potty?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Not old enough for me to stop worrying.”
I find my gate—Munich, Germany, written above the door. “You were the one who encouraged me to go on this trip.”
“That was your father. I was willing to hold you to my bosom until everything was okay.”
“I’m twenty-two, Mom. Being held to your bosom is far too disturbing in so many ways at this point.”
“Marley, let the boy live,” Dad says in the background.
“He’s flying across the world, so I’m allowed to worry,” Mom shoots back, and then her voice softens when she repeats, “Did you go potty?”
“Nope, planned on wetting myself on the airplane.”
“In that case, you’ll be thankful for the extra pair of pants and underpants I made you pack in your backpack in case you soil yourself. I’m always looking out for you, Crewy Bear.”
“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?”
“Do you realize how much I love you?”
“Yes,” I sigh, remembering the tears she shed this morning when she and Dad dropped me off at LAX. Mom clung to me for what felt like ten minutes until Dad pried her off me. She then texted me all the way up to my takeoff and then called when she knew I’d landed in New York. I had an hour layover, got off the phone to grab some food—went to the bathroom—and called Mom back to let her know I would be boarding soon. Pops sprung the extra buck and put me in first class for the trip from New York to Munich. Could not be more grateful for that since the flight is a red-eye and the seats in first class lie all the way down.
From the overhead speakers, an airline attendant says, “We’ll now start boarding our first-class passengers for United 182 to Munich. Please proceed to our first-class line.”
I see a line of people start to move toward the gate door and take that as my cue to get off the phone.
“Hey, Mom, they’re starting to board.”
“Oh . . . okay.” She pauses and I can imagine her trying to get herself together. “Well, I packed you some gum in the small pocket of your backpack, you know, in case you have to pop your ears. I know you always have to deal with that when flying.”
I smile softly to myself. Of course she did. We’ve made the cross-country flight to New York several times a year ever since I can remember, and every flight, I always need to pop my ears. It became tradition that Mom bought me a new pack of gum for every trip.
“What’s the flavor this time?”
“Polar Ice. Figured some fresh breath wouldn’t hurt, and the mint will calm any nerves you might have.”
“You saying I have stinky breath, Mom?”