Ryan: I’m in town for a game. Can we meet up?
The text came in two minutes ago, and I’ve been staring at it ever since. He never responded to any of my messages when I was in California last, so hearing from him now is surprising, to say the least.
Me: Of course. I’d love that, son. When/where?
Ryan: Can you meet at the café down the block from the courthouse in an hour?
Me: Yeah, I can make that work. See you soon.
The next forty-five minutes are spent getting very little work done. I’ve got a few large cases coming up that I need to prep for, but this is more important. This deserves my focus. So, after I pack up my briefcase, I head downstairs and toward the café. It’s a little family-owned place that I used to meet Lorelei—and Ryan before he graduated high school—at for lunch when work kept me busy enough to have to stay late frequently.
It holds a lot of memories, and I’m hoping him wanting to meet here is a good sign.
The door dings as I walk through it, Beatrice, the owner, glancing up from behind the counter and smiling as she sees me.
“Mr. van der Meer!” Walking up, she gives me a quick hug. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“I’ve been doing okay. How are you?”
“Oh, you know, same old,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “Doing good.”
“Great to hear. I’m meeting Ryan. Is he here yet?”
“You know, as a matter of fact, he is.” Throwing me a wink, she points behind her. “He’s in the back, honey. I’ll be back to take y’alls order shortly.”
As I make my way to where he’s sitting, I’m hit with an overwhelming wave of nerves. I want this—no, need this—to go well, and I don’t know what I’ll do if it doesn’t. I miss my son so much it physically hurts sometimes. I round the corner, his burly form coming into view. His back is to me, a USC hoodie on, and his light brown hair slightly longer than I remember it. He took after my size, but has his mom’s features, the best of both of us.
I slide into the booth, his pale eyes glancing up from his phone, meeting mine. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Ry. It’s good to see you.” Shaking out of my coat, I set it beside me in the booth. “How’ve you been?”
“Been alright. The season’s almost over, so I’ll get to relax a bit soon.”
“You’ve been having an amazing season. I’ve been watching every game.”
Ryan and I used to talk football all the time. When he was a kid, he’d watch the games with me on my lap every Sunday. We’d even travel together to go see them. It was our thing. I was so proud when he got accepted to USC, even though a large part of me hoped he’d stay closer to home.
It’s been years since we’ve watched or gone to a game together, and almost as long since I’ve talked to him about his own football. I barely know my son anymore, and that thought is crippling.
Ryan’s eyes narrow. “You have?”
“Of course, I have. You’re my son, and I’m so proud of you.”
He watches me for a moment, like he can’t tell if I’m telling the truth. “Yeah, it’s been a great season for us. NFL scouts have been to a few games.”
My eyes practically bulge out of my head. “That’s incredible, Ryan!”
Beatrice steps up to the table, a small smile on her face. “What can I get you boys to drink?”
“I’ll have a Coke, please,” Ryan grunts out, eyes glued back on his phone.
Meeting her eyes, I say, “I’ll have one, too. Thank you.”
When she walks away, I wait to see if he’ll put down the phone and we’ll continue the conversation.
He doesn’t.
Blowing out a sigh, I clasp my hands on top of the table. “So, I was a little surprised to hear from you.”
