“I see.”
I scoff.
He huffs. “Don’t dismiss me because I’m young. You’re going through some shit.”
“What do you know about it?”
“You’re having your worst year in football. It’s getting close to Christmas, and it’s a tough time for you.”
I cut my eyes at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Last year, you got in a mood over the holidays. You stalked around all pissy and shit. You didn’t put up a tree or come to my Christmas party.”
“Sorry.”
He kicks at the gravel. “I’m going home next week. I’ve got four sisters and all these aunts and uncles coming. They think I’m the shit, you know. They’ve got a big party planned. Lots of homemade pies and cookies. I was wondering, um, do you have plans over the holidays?”
My face feels hot, and I look up at the gray winter sky. No, I don’t. I have distant relatives, but when they see me, they ask for money, and I usually give it. I went to Virginia last year, and when a cousin asked me to invest in his political campaign, I agreed, then left as soon as dessert was cleared. “Sure, I have plans. I’ll go to Virginia. I have family there.” My gut twists at the lie.
“And your mom?”
“She’s going on a trip to Vermont with some of the residents at Greenwood.”
Jasper fidgets. “Ah, I see. Well, I’m your Robin, Batman. I’m your bestie. Yeah, I know Ronan was your number one, and he was your age and wise and all that, but I’m the one now. I’d love for you to come to Utah and meet my family. My sisters will piss their pants, but you can’t touch them, feel me? They’re off limits, bro.”
Jesus. He’s feeling sorry for me.
“I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer.”
“You can tell me stuff,” he adds. “Make some peace with what’s bugging you. How do I say this—what’s the word ... you’re like, at critical mass. You’re at the zero hour, and you can go either way: figure it out or blow the fuck up.” He mimics an explosion with his hands.
My lips twitch. “Blowing up sounds ominous.”
“Then don’t.”
Oh, if only it were that easy. He’s right about one thing. I’m at a turning point. Then I recall Francesca’s “crossroads.” A long sigh comes from me as I tuck my hands in my joggers. We have that in common. Does she have holiday plans? I enjoyed our walks; then she stopped showing up. She said she didn’t want to have dinner with me. I shake my head. It’s not often I get turned down cold.
“Talk to me, Big T.”
I kick at a piece of gravel as I face him.
No one can understand abuse unless they’ve lived it.
The constant fear.
The absence of security.
The crawling sense that you’re not enough and never will be.
He grew up in Utah with a good family. What will he think of mine?
“My mom and I—shit, she had a manic episode and didn’t even call me. The director had to fill me in. I don’t know; she’s been back forfive years, and I just thought that things would be better between us, but they aren’t. Toss in football, and my head is spinning.”
He looks out over the field.
“She’s still upset about your dad, yeah?”
I rub the scars on my wrist. “Yeah.”