More Than a Memory

8 | if nothing else

"Jones is looking good this year," he says thoughtfully as he maneuvers the car through the mounds of game traffic and onto the highway. "He's stacking up those receiving yards already. I just wish he wasn't such a dick."

I laugh at that, still getting used to Dad's newfound ideals on life, his call for human decency now that he's unearthed a shred of his own again. He didn't used to care what the players did in their down time or about their theatrics on the field. He was always the first to speak out against what he deemed ludicrous fines and penalties when one of them was properly reprimanded for unsportsmanlike conduct or uncalled for celebration tactics.

And I'll tell you what, Steven Jones is sort of an over-the-top dick. So, to hear Dad call it like it is says something, especially when he's got a soft spot for wide receivers because that's the position he used to play.

Dad glances over at me, his face serious. "Has Danny committed anywhere yet?"

Speaking of wide receivers...

When I don't answer right away, his head drifts forward again as he goes on, "I keep checking the newspaper but I haven't seen anything."

"He's not going to college," I explain to him, even though it's the last thing I want to discuss right now. "He's, uh... last I heard, he was going to some trade school upstate to get his crane license. He wants to work in construction."

"Are you kidding?" Dad's fast retort is immersed in shock but I can't say I share the sentiment. Skipping college and jumping into the workforce is the most natural thing for Danny. I wasn't surprised at all when he told me a while back about his plans. Dad, however, apparently didn't see it coming, despite his very opinionated thoughts on the matter just a year ago. "Wow," he mumbles. "What a waste."

My head bobs up and down robotically and Dad seems to pick up the off-putting energy that's practically oozing out of my pores at the mention of my old friend.

Old friend. Old friend. Old friend?

"I'm sorry," he offers with regret. "I shouldn't have brought him up."

"It's okay, Dad." I say, unable to stop the recollection of that very conversation last year before I got hurt. The one where he basically doomed Danny to trade school, saying he'd never amount to anything.

Now, it seems like all of Dad's opinions are changing and I'm left trying to keep up.

He's vaguely aware of the situation unfolding in my circle of friends, old and new, and where he might not have given a shit about our meager affairs in the past, I can tell he feels bad about how things are going these days. However, regardless of that, he and Mom are taking a neutral stance on the matter. All of the parents are, really. They're encouraging us to figure it out on our own and that's fine I guess.

It's just funny to me what a year can do, when I remember how badly I wanted Dad to accept my friend back in those days. And now, I'd give just about anything to hear him reduce Danny's talent and ambition into a low class insult again. To hear him say something, anything, that would align with my ill feeling toward the guy, validate my judgment on him. But it's no use.

We both know it would be a lie and my gut knows Danny doesn't deserve that. I just wish I could get my head and heart on board. I wish I'd never said a fucking word to him at that party. I should have just skipped it entirely, gone to the shelter, and spent the evening with Sophia. I never should have stayed for that stupid drinking game because now, I have far too much information I really didn't want.

Those visuals are crawling around in my brain, spinning my gut, and suffocating ny heart in regret. All I want to do is wipe away what I heard, forget the look she gave him and the way she laid her head on his shoulder after. But I can't.