Page 61 of Broken Secrets
“You’re part of my life. I want you there.”
He nods and takes my hand, and he leads me through the crowd. Each step feels surreal, like I’m walking through a dream where impossible things happen on soccer fields under Friday night lights.
My mom sees us approaching first.
“Olivia,” she says as we reach the edge of the stands. Her voice is steady, but I can see her hands shaking. “I’d like you to meet some people.”
Jeremy steps forward, and suddenly eighteen years of questions and fantasies collide with reality. He’s not the abandoning villain of my mom’s worst stories, but he’s not the perfect father of my childhood dreams either. He’s just a man, a middle-aged electrician from Michigan who looks nervous and hopeful and proud all at the same time.
“That was an incredible goal,” he says, and his voice is rougher than I expected, like he’s been working up the courage to speak these first words to me for hours. “I’m so proud of you.”
The simple statement hits me harder than any of the elaborate reunions I’ve imagined over the years. No dramatic speeches, no desperate apologies, just a father telling his daughter he’s proud of her after watching her succeed.
Emma can’t contain herself any longer. She practically launches herself down from the stands, wrapping me in a hug that smells like airplane air and unfamiliar shampoo but somehow feels exactly right.
“I can’t believe I just watched my sister win the championship!” she says, pulling back to look at me with those familiar eyes. “You were amazing out there! Dad and I were screaming so loud I think we annoyed everyone around us.”
“You were really here the whole time? Watching the game?”
“We got here right before kickoff,” Jeremy says. “Your mom called us yesterday and said if we wanted to meet you soon, we should do it while you were doing something that made you happy. She said there was no place you were more yourself than on a soccer field.”
I look at Mom, who’s been standing quietly beside Robert, letting this reunion happen without trying to control or manage it. “You planned this?”
“I thought about our conversation the other day, about how I’ve been selfish and controlling for eighteen years.” Her eyes are bright with tears she’s trying not to shed.
Derek squeezes my hand, reminding me he’s there. “This is Derek,” I say, suddenly remembering my manners. “My boyfriend.”
“The goalkeeper,” Jeremy observes with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Derek. That was some fine work back there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So, I’m learning.”
Emma bounces between us like she’s powered by springs. “This is so weird and wonderful and I can’t believe it’s actually happening. We’re really here, you’re really you, and you just won your championship game! It’s like something from a movie!”
Other families are starting to clear out of the stands, and I realize we’re drawing curious looks from classmates and parents who know my family situation. Or thought they knew it, anyway.
“Maybe we should go somewhere more private?” Robert suggests with his usual diplomatic timing. “Celebrate properly.”
“Yes,” Mom says quickly. “Let’s go home. I made dinner, just in case you were hungry after your flight.”
“You made dinner?” I stare at her. “You cooked actual food?” She doesn’t like to cook when anxious, only under a lot of stress but if she were stressed, she wouldn’t be here.
“I may have ordered catering and transferred it to our own dishes,” she admits. “But the intention was there.”
Jeremy laughs. “Some things never change, I see.”
“Well then, shall we head home? I’m sure everyone has a lot to catch up on.”
As we walk toward the parking lot, Emma falls into step beside me while Jeremy and Derek engage in that careful conversation men have when they’re trying to figure each other out.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I tell Emma. “Two days ago, I thought maybe I’d get to video chat with you this weekend. Now you’re actually here, and you watched me play.”
“Mom didn’t want me to come,” Emma says quietly. “She’s still pretty angry about everything that happened between her and your mom. But Dad said I had the right to know my sister, and that this was important enough to override her feelings about it.”
“What’s she like? Your mom?”
“Complicated.”
