Page 86 of Lose You to Find Me

He stops a few feet away. “Hey. I don’t know if you remember me, but I played with you before you graduated. I’m—”

“Wells,” I say for him. “I know.”

His face lights up. “Shit. Awesome. A few of my buddies said not to bother you because of—” He abruptly cuts himself off. “Er, well, I saw you and wanted to see if you got the invite.”

I blink. “What invite?”

“To coach.”

To…?“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wells, the delusional sophomore, nods enthusiastically. “A bunch of us were talking about it, and we all agreed you’d be a perfect addition to the new staff they’re trying to grow here. You know the game, the turf, and all the old plays. Plus you’re familiar with the team. It’d be perfect. Better than the fuckwads they’ve got wandering around scratching their balls and acting like they know what they’re doing. I don’t think the new staff knows what the hell is happening half of the time.”

“Look, Wells. It’s nice I was brought up for consideration, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’m sure whomever they’ve hired will do the job just fine.” I don’t bother pointing out that we’re not exactly a Division I school or anything. The staff that comes in is going to be subpar at best.

Hell, they can’t be any worse than the people they let go, considering the major lawsuits that could have been on the school’s hands otherwise. Coach Pearce, who’d been an exceptional coach who earned Lindon a lot of trophies over the years, didn’t have the best moral compass. He was willing to look the other way when one of his players was accused of doing some sketchy shit to women at parties because he wanted to make sure he was kept on the team. Who knows what else he let some of the guys get away with?

Wells’s shoulders drop defeatedly. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, but maybe after…” He stops himself again. “I just mean when things die down—” He winces, face turning red at the poor choice of words that definitely hit me straight in the gut.

“Wells?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking while you’re ahead.”

He presses his lips together, the color on his cheeks darkening before he nods.

I glance at the time on my watch. It’s old but the band is new. It’s one of Dad’s old watches that Mom kept in her jewelry box after he stopped wearing it. Mom gave me the band and told me to keep it the other day. I didn’t want to because it felt wrong to take anything of his. It felt…final.

But having it on my wrist oddly makes me feel like I’m close to him.

Backing up, I say, “I’ll think about it, but don’t hold your breath.”

Will I actually think about it? Probably not. I’ve had enough on my mind lately that’s left me too preoccupied. I’ve been debating even staying at the school or if I should consider other options.

Dad was insistent that I let go of some of my classes because he didn’t think I’d need them to run the store, and I know he’s not wrong. Maybe it’s time to really think about where I’m going with my life since shit is about to change.

Wells nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “You got it. But just so you know, they’re willing to pay for staff members’ master’s degrees while you’re working for them as long as you get your degree here. And I know you’re studying for your MBA, so…” His shoulders lift. “I don’t know, man. It’s just something to consider before you turn it down.”

I look back to Wells. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

*

Mom is stressbaking again. I can smell something sweet and fruity as soon as I walk in the front door, and it gets stronger as I walk down the hall to the kitchen. I check in on Dad, who’s sleeping in his chair, and twitch when I see the color of his skin.

Closing my eyes, I collect myself and head into the kitchen, where Mom is pulling a pie out of the oven. As she sets it down on the stovetop, I say, “He’s turning yellow.”

Mom tries to smile, but it doesn’t hold. “I know, sweetie. They did bloodwork and it’s in his liver. We knew it would happen though. Things spread in this stage.”

My nostrils flare with anger, but I force myself to breathe through it. “Why do bad things happen to good people?”

My mother is quiet for a long time, staring at Dad’s favorite dessert. She’s been doing that a lot, even though he never eats any of it. It makes her feel better. She gives it to the nursing staff or our neighbors and sends some home with me to give to the boys.

“I don’t know, Caleb. I really don’t.”

Leaning against the counter, I prop my chin on my hand. “How are you holding up? No bullshitting me.”

She eyes me, still hating me using bad language around her. At least there’s a little normalcy in our lives. “I’m not sure. It’s always going to be your father. I’m…processing, I suppose. For what comes next.”

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