Page 131 of My Wife
She and Dad tag-teamed me, and her suggestion to forgive was the real disaster because I can’t do it. It’s impossible. I’m a horrible human. Nothing will change that. Even if she still accepts me even after what happened in high school, she wouldn’t want to be with a guy who can’t forgive himself.
As I said,disaster.
So is the first period of the game in Pittsburg.
We’re put through our paces and tested, first by an offensive cluster, resulting in two penalties and a point against us. Our assists are out of sync and we repeatedly lose the puck. My head is everywhere but on the ice.
During a break, we regroup in the locker room. Everyone is in a foul mood, grumbling, and shooting accusatory glances, casting blame for the lackluster play.
It’s not until we get the countdown warning for the start of the next period, that I realize I’m hanging around over a dozen guys who’re acting how I usually do.
It’s miserable.
Or perhaps Jessica is rubbing off on me.
Gripping my hockey stick like a tour guide with an umbrella, I whistle. “Gather ’round. We have to be out there in two minutes. I don’t care what you do during those one hundred and twenty seconds, but when you hit the ice, I want to see you smiling. Force it if you have to— during the next twenty minutes, we have to come back and get ahead. Got it?”
They’re all silent except for the rise and fall of inhales and exhales.
I arch an eyebrow and demonstrate what I mean.
Someone screams like they just experienced a jump scare. Another guy slow claps.
“Just showing you how it’s done,” I say, leading the way to the tunnel.
* * *
When I return to Cobbiton,I’m married. A father. Jessica is a mother. And we live together.
A spark of excitement burns along a wick, but when I get to the loft, it’s empty. Quiet. Lonely.
My footsteps echo as I go down the hallway to check on the crab. A few of KJ’s toys were left out.
I lower onto his bed and adjust the head of his favorite plastic soldier figure.
A lot changed fast in my life. I was alone and sinking, not sure how to handle it. Then Jessica entered the picture, shining light, bringing warmth and companionship. The kind I didn’t know I needed, wanted.
When we first met, I said that I didn’t need or want anything. I was wrong. I need and want her.
The front door opens and laughter filters down the hall.
Jessica hollers, “Home sweet home.”
I meet them in the entryway. Jessica has a bag over her shoulder and a box in her arms. Grandma Dolly also has a bag. I help them unload. Jessica doesn’t have more than a car full of belongings. While the assumption was that she’d move in with me now that we’re married, we didn’t discuss sleeping arrangements.
Once the last box is stacked in the hall, Jessica signs and speaks to Grandma Dolly, “Are you going to be lonely without me?”
The older woman smiles warmly and signs. “I’m getting my craft room back. Plus, I expect to see you Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at least.”
“Don’t forget games,” I add, having offered her a permanent seat in the VIP suite.
KJ rushes toward us, holding his little soldier man, apparently pleased the head is fixed. He signs, “Thanks, Daddy.”
I don’t know how he knew I repaired it, but my heart melts.
I’m a father and it’s my job to fix things. I’m no handyman by any stretch and wouldn’t be able to do much more than hang framed photos and build a bookshelf from a kit, but I’m now the guy KJ and Jessica are going to turn to when things need repairing.
This thought follows me for the rest of the day. I become borderline obsessed with fixing the random things around the house like the leaky faucet, a squeaky door, and the wobbly table leg that Jessica, with her aggressive positivity, says is a reminder that not everything is perfect. She also got a stapler with rainbow staples, but it jammed, so I fix that too even though I still don’t understand why someone needs colorful staples. Lastly, I spackle the hole I punched in the wall in the home office, promising myself not to do that again.
