Page 2 of The One I Want
“You really think me retiring is a dealbreaker?” I ask. “Is that really the reason?”
She shrugs. “Mostly. I started thinking about life without you playing.”
“Do you mean without my contract or with me being home more?”
I want her to say it. Say it’s about the money. Because somewhere over the years, my sweet wife became a person obsessed with wealth.
“Both,” she admits. “For example, what would you do? Just sit around here all day? You wouldn’t work at all?”
Well, that was saying it without saying it.
“I thought I’d take some time off, but eventually I’ll do something,” I say. “But you know I have plenty of money put away for this exact reason. Plus, now I’ll be home during the day. I won’t be gone for days at a time in the season. I’ll be able to help take the kids to school. I know you hate the carpool line. I’d be glad to do it. We’ll travel, we’ll take vacations. We can do anything.”
“Where would we live?” she asks, crossing her arms like she’s throwing a temper tantrum.
“Uh, here?” Why is she asking this? Does she think that when I become a retired player on the Nashville Fury that we have to move out of the state?
“That’s a lie,” she accuses. “You can’t wait to get back to Rolling Hills with your boys. Hell, Oliver is probably planning your welcome home party as we speak.”
I blink a few times because I’m totally confused. “When did I ever say that I wanted to move back to Rolling Hills?”
“I heard you talking to Simon last week. I know your plan. I bet you and your little troop can’t wait to be reunited. And living next door to your parents? Exactly the life I envisioned.”
I don’t even acknowledge Cara’s sarcasm. It’s not worth it right now.
Maybe years ago I would have moved back. Being in the same town with Oliver, Simon, and Shane was the dream. The four of us reunited. But I knew Cara would never go for it, so I put that thought to the side. Happy wife, happy life, right?
But why now is she thinking that this is happening? I did talk to Simon last week. Yes, he’s a real estate agent. If I did want to move back, he’s the one I’d call. But it wasn’t about...oh.
“You misunderstood,” I say. “Yes, Simon and I were talking, like we do regularly. He was asking me if my parents were interested in selling their rental because it’s currently between occupants. I made the joke that if my mom had her way, she’d have it set up for us to visit all the time. That’s it. I never even considered moving back to Rolling Hills. And do you think I’d just make that decision? That I wouldn’t talk to you about that?”
“I don’t believe you,” she says. The more and more she talks, the more and more she’s sounding like a spoiled, petulant child. “But I don’t want Rolling Hills. I don’t even want Nashville. I’ve been stuck in this city for twelve years with you. I’ve been stuck in this house. When I married you, I thought we’d travel the world, or at least the country. But no, you’ve played for the same team your entire life and vacations are to fucking Disney World.”
“I’m sorry for being good at my job and my team wanting to keep me,” I say sarcastically. “Are you really mad that we didn’t have to move every three years every time I got a new contract?”
“I’m mad that I’m now thirty-five years old and I have nothing to show for my life.”
Wow. That fucking stings. And is she even taking into consideration the kids, or is this all just selfishness talking. “Really? Nothing to show for your life? That’s really what you think?”
She shakes out her shoulders, trying to put up an air of confidence. “I do.”
The more this conversation drags on, the more I’m realizing how many things I had to have overlooked or ignored over the past few years. Yes, I knew retirement was a sticking point for her. But to say that her life—ourlife—was a waste? Wow. I didn’t expect that.
Maybe it’s because I still think of her as the girl I met at Kentucky our sophomore year of college. That girl who didn’t see me as a paycheck. Hell, at that point, I didn’t even know if professional football was in my future. I had to redshirt my freshman year due to injury. I wasn’t starting. I was just a guy who could say he played on the football team.
But she loved me. She was at every game, my number painted on her face and her smile waiting for me after every game. I loved her. She loved me.
Or at least I thought. Apparently at some point over the years she started loving less of me and more of my salary.
I don’t know when that started happening, or when all of a sudden she hated being a mother. We started trying for Emerson, our oldest, within months of being married. I remember her singing to her belly every night. There wasn’t even a debate on having Hank and Magnolia. It was just what we wanted.
Wasn’t it?
I feel like our entire marriage is now playing back in my head in some sort of sped up slow motion. Though I still don’t remember at what point she went from the woman I married to the woman she’s become.
I do know that our problems seriously started the first time I mentioned retirement. It was two years ago. If we’ve had a hundred fights since then, ninety-five of them were about that.
Is this why she stopped coming to games? Or family events? I’d always ask her if she was going to the wives’ luncheons, or the family days that the other wives and kids would have, and she’d always have a reason to not go. Though, she always had a reason to go on some sort of shopping splurge. And she had a detailed list of why she needed a fifteen-thousand-dollar Hermes purse.
