Page 70 of Mr. Broody

She shuts it quietly and walks down the steps wearing flannel pants and a Minnesota sweatshirt. My Minnesota sweatshirt. Damn, it still looks good on her.

“You still have it?” I ask as she sits next to me.

“It was in my closet.”

I nod because of course it wasn’t with her while she traveled the world so she could throw it on during cold nights or just to remember me. God, I need to stop living in the past and move forward with the way things are now.

“Thanks for coming out,” I say, resting my forearms on my thighs and staring at the concrete steps.

“Where’s Bodhi?” she asks.

“Conor’s at my condo. He was happy to have a break from a night of listening to Tweetie’s headboard hit the wall.” When I messaged our group chat, I was surprised Conor was the first one to say he’d hang at my place in case Bodhi woke up. Maybe it’s just because he’s worried he got traded for nothing if I can’t keep my head together, but I’ll take it.

“So, what’s up?” Her voice is quiet.

I glance down the street, thinking we should walk, but for some reason, I don’t stand. I steel myself before I speak, not having any idea how this conversation is going to turn out. “I’m sick of this feeling, Jade. This hole I have inside me whenever I think of you.”

She sucks in a breath. “I know.”

I don’t doubt that she does.

“So, what do we do about it?” I take off my hat and toss it next to me, needing to weave my fingers through my hair.

“I don’t know.”

I turn toward her, and she draws back, so I stop the line of conversation. We can get back to it. Instead, I ask another question I really want the answer to. “Why are you teaching?”

Her shoulders fall, and she sighs. “Why do we have to go back to this?”

“Because it’s a really big fucking question, Jade. I let you go. I let you out of my fucking grip so you could go and find yourself. And I thought you did, what with all the beautiful photos you’d post. Pictures that make people stare in awe at the magic you found in the world. But then you come back here and decide to teach first grade? I want to know why you’re hiding in a classroom instead of out on the streets with your camera.”

She shakes her head, standing and walking down the rest of the steps. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me it was worth it.” My voice cracks a bit. “I want you to tell me that the decision I made eight years ago was the right one.” I stare at her while she paces, shaking her head as though I’m wrong. “Come on, Jade, tell me.”

Silence descends over us on the dark street. It’s as if our roles have reversed, and I’m the one looking for immediate gratification while she’s the thinker.

“Just talk to me?—”

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know.” She stops walking back and forth and looks at me with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I feel more lost than ever right now.”

Never able to see her cry and not soothe her, I rush down the stairs and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly, just as I did the day of her grandma’s funeral. Her hands grip my sweatshirt, sobs racking her back.

This isn’t why I came here tonight. I didn’t want to upset her, but this back and forth between us needs to stop if I’m going to be able to help my team win the Cup and be the father I should be to Bodhi.

“Come on.” I take her hand and lead us down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out when we get there.”

“Who are you?” she asks once we’re a little farther down her street.

“What do you mean?”

“Where is my usual calm and poised Henry? This demanding answers thing is new.”

“Do you not like it?” I ask, worried that maybe I’ve changed more than I thought in the years we’ve been apart and who I am today isn’t appealing to her anymore.

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