Page 55 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
The waitress appears suddenly with our breakfast. Steak and eggs for both of us, fulfilling the ritual. I pick up my fork and knife and point them at the steak.
“I’ve got about twenty million invested in low index funds,” I add. I still check my bank app every night. I still wake up sweating from dreams where the money’s gone and Ellie’s little again, crying because we’re out of cereal. I can’t stop running from that version of my life. I finish with, “But I still feel like it’s not enough.”
Coach takes a bite of his toast and asks, “Not enough for what, exactly?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. For Ellie. For me. For everything. What if my career ends tomorrow? What if I can’t get another sponsorship deal? I thought if I had five million, I’d feel safe. Then I thought another five, or another ten would do it. But it turns out I always worry. What if I make a terrible mistake and my hard work vanishes overnight?”
Coach doesn’t look up from his steak as he cuts it into careful pieces.
“You’ve done more than enough, son. You should feel secure at this point.”
“I don’t know if there is any ‘feeling secure.’ Something can always happen.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then gently, he says, “You can’t control everything, Ryan. You can try, but someday something’s gonna hit you sideways. It won’t matter how much money you’ve got saved.”
That’s the only way I’ve survived. Controlling everything. My image. My game. My goddamn feelings. Especially the ones that wear eyeliner and call me an asshole with a mouth like honey and venom.
His words piss me off more than I want to admit. I hate when he’s right.
“Let’s change the subject,” I say. “Tell me about your Little League team. How’s that going?”
His eyes light up. Coach T isn’t the most talkative person. He’s never been that way. But he’s animated when he talks about the types of players he’s working with and his plans for them.
He carries most of the conversation while I demolish my steak and eggs. Then I push the plate away, toast untouched.
He snags my toast and smiles. “I love Waffle House toast. I don’t know what kind of bread they use, but it’s so buttery and crisp. Always perfect.”
It’s an important part of the ritual. Meeting for lunch here.
I smile as I get out of the booth and pull out my wallet. “I should go. Gotta get some shut eye. I have an elimination tomorrow on the reality show. Have to send two girls home.”
He eyes me carefully. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good.”
I pick up the check and he looks at me, pinning me in place with his gaze.
“Ryan,” he warns.
I shake my head. “Are you kidding? You took me and Ellie in when we were kids. Paid for meals and hockey and Ellie’s ballet. I can certainly cover one little meal after you raised a hockey superstar.”
He looks like he wants to argue but lets it go.
I go up to the register and pay, then we walk out of the Waffle House together.
He stops by his car and looks me up and down. “You know you can always call me, right?”
I nod.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, kid.”
I freeze. Those three words are sacred. Dangerous. The last time I said them, my mother left and never came back. I can’t risk putting them on anyone else’s shoulders.
It’s not that I don’t want to say it back. I love Coach. I try to make it obvious through my actions. But that word is only for Ellie. No one but my little sister gets to hear it come out of my mouth.
So I just nod again. “Thanks, Coach.”
He squeezes my shoulder and then lets me go.
