Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(22)

Mom laughed. “Oh gosh, I’d forgotten all about that. As soon as he was old enough to realize I was in medical school, he was all about my healing.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was your healing he was interested in,” I muttered.

“Noah!” Mom exclaimed, her face flushing again.

“Oh come on Mom, you know he had a huge crush on you. I swear, Jake must’ve come out of the womb a little hornball!”

Mom shook her head. “Well, I don’t know about that. I just used to think he needed a little extra attention, you know? Being the youngest boy with two very demanding older brothers. And Mr. Nelson certainly isn’t the most caring individual-”

“The man’s an ass**le.”

“Language, Noah,” Mom warned.

I snorted. “You know it’s true.”

Mom grinned. “Yes, it’s true, but I don’t want you talking like that.” When Mom touched the alcohol to my cut, I jumped. “Sorry sweetie.”

“It’s okay. Just stings a little.” I would dare admit that it hurt like a bitch. Once Mom finished doctoring my eye, I fixed a heaping plate of French toast, bacon, and eggs.

With a pained expression on her face, Mom sat down next to me. “I’m so, so sorry I won’t be able to be with you at the funeral today, sweetie. I tried everything to get out of this C-Section, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” I mumbled, through a mouthful of food.

“Grammy will be there, and so will Uncle Mark and Aunt Eva,” she informed me.

All through my childhood, Grammy had been the ‘stand-in’ when mom couldn’t make it to things. But there were few times that I didn’t remember my mom being there. I don’t know how in the hell she did it, but she did.

“It’s okay, Mom. I mean, you spent all of yesterday at the funeral home with the Nelson’s. I’m sure they understand, just like I do.”

Her brows creased in worry. “I hope so.” Her expression then turned quizzical. “Are you nervous, you know, about singing?” she asked.

“Yeah, a little,” I lied. She didn’t need to know I could practically hurl the entire contents of my stomach up at the thought.

“You’re going to do great, Noah,” she replied. When I didn’t answer, she patted my hand. “It’s going to be fine, sweetie. I know it’ll make Mr. and Mrs. Nelson very happy.” I shot her a look, and she smiled. “Well, maybe Mrs. Nelson at least since the Asshole probably won’t care one way or the other!”

I laughed. “Nice language, Mom.”

With a wink, she replied, “I try.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Better hurry up and eat. You need to get ready.”

The talk of the funeral had completed wiped out my appetite. I laid my fork down and pushed my plate away. “Yeah, I think I’ve had enough,” I said.

Mom nodded. “Okay then.”

“Thanks for fixing my eye.”

She didn’t blush quite as much this time. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh yeah and for fixing breakfast.”

“Once again, you’re welcome.”

I smiled at her and then hopped up from the table. I headed upstairs to take my shower. After I got out, I eyed the black suit my mom had laid across my bed. If it’s possible to actually hate a piece of clothing, I did that suit. My mom had bought it when my grandfather died. That was the only time I’d worn it. Now two years later, I had to wear it to Jake’s funeral. Who would have ever imagined? Of course, I’d had to get new pants since I kept shooting up. Another reason for Mr. Nelson to think I was a total fruit since what self-respecting 6’2 kid didn’t play basketball?

Asshole.

When I slid the jacket on, I cringed. Like most guys, I guess I’d never really dealt with my grief over Granddaddy’s death. I’d stepped up to the plate and been a man—you know, the strong, stoic one who everyone could count on, not the grieving grandson whose heart was shattered in jagged shards. My mom needed me desperately since she’d gone to pieces after Granddaddy died. As I slid on my tie, I tried to remember if I’d shed one tear since he died. The harder I tried, I still couldn’t remember the last time. I could feel the sobs rising slowly from the pit of my stomach—the same kind that had overtaken me at school. But I wouldn’t let them—not now. I had to keep it together.

I could almost hear Jake’s voice echoing through my head. Fuck dude, I’m really touched at this emotional shit-storm you’re going through just for me. Who knew you’d turn into such a sentimental pu**y over my death? You’re one step closer to growing a vagina!

Those thoughts brought a welcomed smile to my lips and a burning pain through my chest. Even though Jake ragged the hell out of me, I missed it—I missed the jokes and teasing at my expense. That was just who he was—as Grammy would say, ‘It was all part of his charm.’ I paused in straightening my tie to rub my chest. Glancing up at the ceiling, I nibbled on my bottom lip for a minute. “Hey man…Jake…if you’re up there and you’re listening, I could really use some help to get through today. I wanna do right by you—I mean, your funeral is the last thing on earth we all can do for you. So give me a little of your swagger to tackle today, okay?”