Page 78 of Before We Say Goodbye
She withdrew her hand and rested it on her lap. “Come November, right?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing on the road, and maybe I don’t want to know, but it’s gotta stop.”
Tired of having to defend himself, he said, “I’m doing what it takes to sell wine.”
She cut a quick look at him, then diverted her attention back to the storefront. “Mike said you didn’t even realize he played trumpet. Is there any wonder why he’s sad? He misses his dad.”
“I thought he was still playing the trombone. Come on, same thing. Trumpet, trombone. You can’t put what he’s been going through on me. That’s not fair.”
“Otis, he’s struggling. He needs his dad, right now. Maybe if my dad had been there for Jed, then ... then things would be different.”
Otis didn’t even touch that comment. “He has me. I’m giving him everything I can. I’m giving him security. Remember, that’s the thing you told me you wanted them to have above all else. I’ve made that happen.”
Michael and Camden and Rebecca needed more than that now. Otis knew it as well as anyone.
He sat back and crossed his legs, threw an arm up on the back of the bench. His fingers grazed her shoulder. “Believe me, I don’t want to travel anymore. I’m home.”
“Jed’s using again. I can’t have you getting lost in the same cave. You owe us more than that.”
“I’m not using.”
She stood. “You need to get your shit together, or we’re going to have a problem.”
“Don’t do this, Bec. Is that a threat?”
She didn’t turn back.
Damned if the 49ers didn’t make it to the Super Bowl, and damned if Joe Montana didn’t call Otis and offer him a ticket. “I wish I had one for each of the boys and for your wife, but I’m limited.”
“No, I understand. And thank you. You know I’ll be there.”
Otis should have anticipated Bec’s reaction. They were in their bathroom getting ready for the day. Otis wore a monogrammed twill robe with matching slippers, a gift he’d recently given himself. A man of his stature should look good in the morning.
He’d decided to hit her with the news while she was fresh. “It’ll be the only trip I do this year.” It was a hard promise to make, considering it was January 4.
Bec had been wearing a robe lately. The woman who had always slept and got ready in the morning naked now shielded herself from her husband. Yeah, he knew what she was doing, that she was repulsed by him, that she didn’t want him looking at her body. Forgive him for still being attracted to his wife, for wanting to look her up and down like the old days.
“I don’t like who you’re becoming,” she said, “and you’re fooling yourself. You were barely here for the holidays. The boys don’t know who you are.Zinman. That’s the person you’ve become. Who has a license plate like that? And the robe and those slippers. We all know what you’re doing in the fields and in the cellar, picking later, manipulating the juice, over-oaking it, doingeverythingyou never would have done a few years ago. I hate to crush you, but the wines aren’t even that interesting this year.”
Now that hurt. “You’re just mad at me, so you’re not tasting them with an open mind.” He stuck his toothbrush in his mouth before he reminded her for the one zillionth time that he—and her stupid fucking boyfriend—had forced him to make white zin.
“No,” she said, “that’s not it.”
Once he’d finished brushing, he spat the paste into the basin. “Well, I tried to get the boys tickets. Joe only had one.”
“Then stay home and watch it with them. Why do you have to go to Miami?” Bec reached for her brush.
“For one, I was invited by the quarterback of the 49ers to attend the Super Bowl. This isn’t just a game. This is the event of the year.”
“You hate football.”
“It’s growing on me. Besides, it’s about being seen. Joe said he might even be able to get me an introduction to the marketing guys at TAG Heuer. Can you imagine? Your husband, that punk you met on a purple bus, becoming the face of a watch brand.”
“You know what? I far prefer that punk on the bus to who you are now.”
Otis stuck his toothbrush under the running water and ran his thumb over the bristles with ferocious intensity. “Do we have a problem here? You seem to be dropping some serious threats.”
