Page 2 of Lines We Cross
The stairs proved difficult in my brace, but I managed it, all the while knowing Mom had her eagle eye on me, noticing every little thing. I’m sure the change in me was startling too. All the usual swagger and joking was gone, sucked out of me the second I felt that pop in my knee.
“Son.” Dad came from somewhere in the house, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, his usual sweater in place. He embraced me, the aftershave he’d been using forever hitting the back of my eyes with a heat I didn’t know what to do with.
“Dad. Good to see you. You haven’t changed a bit.”
And he hadn’t. Same strong muscles and commanding presence. Maybe a bit more gray at the temples, but contrary to Mom’s teasing, he looked healthy to me.
“Come sit down, Max. Let me get something to put your leg on.” Mom tugged me into the living room and I sat carefully, my leg extended out in front of me. She came back with the footstool from the front porch chairs, and with a nod from me, lifted my leg and put it on the stool with care.
Dad sat in his recliner and Mom sat next to me. When I gave her a side-eye look, she swatted my arm.
“You don’t come home for twenty-nine months, I’m going to sit right by your side and soak you in. Deal with it.” She stuck her lower lip out and my dad chuckled.
I teased her, but it felt good to know I was wanted somewhere. That I could be stuck in a cast and yet my parents didn’t think anything of it. I put my arm around the back of the sofa and leaned into her.
“Sorry, Mom,” I whispered.
She would know what I meant. She patted my knee, and just like that, all was forgiven.
That’s the thing about family. They accepted you. Always. Unconditionally. I knew now that not all other families did, but mine was one of the good ones.
“Start talking.”
That’s the other thing about families. They call you on your bullcrap. Especially Mom.
I sighed and launched into it, knowing this discussion was coming and having resigned myself to it on the ride over.
“So you saw the game where I took the hit in the eighth inning, right?”
“I’ve never liked the Sliders,” Mom muttered, venom in her tone.
I swallowed a laugh. “I know, Ma, but he didn’t mean any harm. Just hit me at the wrong angle and my knee couldn’t take it. The surgery was supposed to be easy, but when they got in there, there was more damage than what showed on the MRI. I have one more day in this immobilizer and then I’m supposed to start up physical therapy.”
Dad looked at me expectantly when I quit talking. “And? Are you going to be able to play again?”
That pit in my stomach was back but I had no time for it. I shrugged, keeping it light. “Sure. I just wanted a bit of time off. Figured I’d make a vacation out of it.”
I could feel Mom staring at the side of my head.
“You might as well just say it, Mom. You might explode if you don’t.”
She huffed. “I’m just wondering what all the boxes are in the back of your truck, then. If you’re only staying for a little bit and then going back to San Francisco to play ball.”
She might be getting old, but she never missed a thing. Woman had eyes that took in every detail. She would have made a good spy or detective back in the day.
I lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I started packing and just kept on going. Figured you wouldn’t mind if I stored some of my things here.”
Mom patted my knee again. “Of course we don’t mind. You know that. Well, I plan to keep you busy while you’re here, so do your PT and then expect to hang out with your mom in exchange for room and board, you hear me?”
Words to strike fear in any kid’s heart, but I was a man now and that plan sounded just about right. A little family time to heal my soul as well as my knee was just what I needed.
“Only if I don’t have a curfew.” I nudged Mom playfully.
She snorted. “Don’t worry about that. You’re a grown boy and I’m just happy to have you home. Just be home before midnight.”
“Mom…”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and caught Dad’s eye. He had a little smirk on his face that said “what did you expect?”
