Chapter 3 - I Crossed My Own Front Door
We won by nine.
I scored thirty-two.
The postgame reporter asked how I felt about my “second-half takeover.”
I told her my teammates created good spacing.
She asked about the courtside incident with Ethan.
I said the arena was reviewing it.
She asked whether I wanted the security officer fired.
I said:
“I want my son spoken to first.”
Then I left.
Marcus called twice.
I didn't answer.
The team media director tried to stop me outside the locker room.
“Caleb, there are already clips online.”
“Tomorrow.”
“The phrase he used is getting attention.”
“Tomorrow.”
“What should we say?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
“I don't know yet.”
That surprised her enough to get me out the door.
Ethan rode home with me.
The envelope stayed on the center console between us.
Streetlights moved across his face.
After ten minutes he said:
“Are you mad?”
“At you?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Marcus said you might be.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“He didn't say those exact words.”
“What exact words did he say?”
Ethan stared out the passenger window.
“I think Mom wants me there.”
“For this conversation?”
He nodded.
I let it go.
For once.
Our house looked exactly the same.
That annoyed me.
I had spent eleven nights acting as though something enormous had happened.
The porch light still flickered before settling.
Ethan's bike still leaned against the garage wall.
Nora's herb planter still had two dead basil stalks she refused to throw away.
I parked.
Did not take the envelope.
Ethan noticed.
“Dad.”
“I said I'm coming home.”
“You are home.”
I looked at the front door.
He understood before I did.
He got out.
I took the envelope.
Nora was standing in the kitchen when we entered.
Gray sweater.
Hair tied up.
Bare feet.
Nothing cinematic.
She saw me.
Then Ethan.
Then the envelope.
“You opened it?”
“No.”
Her shoulders lowered a fraction.
I took off my coat.
Put my keys in the bowl.
The same bowl where they had sat for eleven years.
Nora watched.
“You don't have to perform this.”
“I’m not.”
“You haven't crossed this room in almost two weeks.”
“I know.”
Ethan put down his backpack.
“I’m hungry.”
Nora looked at him.
“Pasta's in the refrigerator.”
“Can I eat upstairs?”
“No.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
He took the container and disappeared into the dining room, which apparently qualified as not upstairs.
I held up the envelope.
“Now?”
Nora nodded.
I opened it.
One sheet.
Her handwriting.
Five lines.
Caleb,
Marcus told me you asked him to find you a new city before the trade window closes.
You told me the team was the one pushing this.
Ethan says Marcus gave him a third version.
Before you call Marcus, ask your son what he heard.
Nora.
I read it twice.
Then looked at her.
“The team has been taking calls.”
“I know.”
“That's not the same as me asking out.”
“I know.”
“You wrote that like I requested a trade.”
“Marcus wrote me that like you requested a trade.”
My eyes narrowed.
“He contacted you?”
“For weeks.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She almost smiled.
“You first.”
I looked toward the dining room.
Ethan was not eating.
He was listening.
I sat down.
“Come in here.”
He carried his bowl to the kitchen table.
Nora sat across from me.
Ethan took the chair between us.
I hated what that looked like.
“Tell me what Marcus said.”
Ethan stirred pasta he wasn't going to eat.
“Which time?”
I looked at Nora.
Her face changed.
“Which time?” she repeated.
Ethan realized he had said more than we knew.
He put the fork down.
“Three times.”
I leaned back.
“Marcus talked to you three times?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“After practice. Then in his car. Then on the phone.”
Nora went pale.
“In his car?”
“He drove me home.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew he drove him once. I didn't know they were discussing us.”
Ethan rubbed his thumb along the edge of the bowl.
“What did he tell you?” I asked.
“He said Mom wants to leave the city.”
Nora closed her eyes.
I stared.
Ethan continued.
“He said you're the one trying to keep us here.”
Neither of us spoke.
That was not what Marcus told either of us.
Then Ethan looked at me.
“And he said if you knew I was excited to move, you'd finally stop fighting Mom about it.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Nora whispered:
“You're not excited.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Ethan's face tightened.
“He told me I didn't have to mean it forever.”
I leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
May you like
Ethan looked directly at me.
“He made me practice saying it like I did.”
