“You must be Josie,” she says, smiling. That’s when I see the resemblance. She doesn’t share her dark hair or green eyes with her son. Not her fair complexion, either. But that smile? The perfectly straight teeth that never even needed braces, the singular dimple, and the full lips? Yep, Van got those from his mother.
She opens her arms and leans forward to hug me, then stops and holds out her hand. Almost immediately, she withdraws it, and nearly knocks over her drink in the process. “Oh, jeez. Can you tell I’m nervous? I’ve been hearing all about you for ages and I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Stephanie Donohue, and this is my sister-in-law, Beth.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I say, calming down a little because now I know I’m not the only one who’s feeling a little anxious. Mel introduces herself and we settle into our seats.
“We knew it was you!” Beth says, clearly excited to be here. “Van said to look for the prettiest girl we’ve ever seen and there you were, purple glasses and all. Here, scooch over, Steph. She’s not going to have a good view of the ice.”
We all shuffle down a bit, despite my protests. “I’m a short girl. I’m used to obstructed views.”
“Nonsense!” Beth says. “You need a good seat. How else will you keep track of what’s going on?”
“Beth is our resident sports fan,” his mom confides. “She’s a one-woman cheering section. Van made me promise not to bring the whole family because we can be overwhelming, to say the least. But I couldn’t leave Beth at home. Her play-by-play is better than anything you’ll hear from the announcer’s box.”
Beth beams. “There’s no point in coming to a game if you’re not going to watch every minute of play,” she says, pulling out a scoresheet and a pencil.
I tend to think the point of coming to a game is to watch my boyfriend as he dominates the game he loves. And to eat buttery popcorn that can’t be duplicated in the microwave. That’s plenty of motivation for me, but clearly Van’s Aunt Beth is a hardcore fan.
“See what I mean?” his mom says, nudging me. “Beth is going on the road with me next year. We’ve already decided to make it to as many of Van’s pro games as we can.”
“Damn right we will,” Beth agrees. “Have you ever traveled in an RV, Josie? Tom and I rented one a few summers ago and took it down the East Coast. It was great. It’s a hotel room on wheels. I keep telling Steph we should all go in on one and take it around the country to Van’s games next year.”
“And I keep telling her no. I’m not sleeping in a giant car just because it has a fold out couch. Put me on a plane any day. Besides, Beth, he could get drafted by Portland. That’s what the scouting report said. You really want to drive a vehicle that big all the way out west? You can’t even parallel park in Center City.”
“But you don’t need to parallel park these beauties! You just take up six spaces in a parking lot,” Beth says matter-of-factly. “How much fun would that be? We could see the sights. Isn’t there a giant potato in Idaho somewhere? We could have our picture taken with it. Back me up here, Josie. You’re up for road tripping, right?”
Stephanie and Beth go back and forth about the best modes of cross-country travel and Mel chimes in with tidbits about national landmarks.
I’m not following their conversation because it just reinforces what I’ve been dreading: Van is leaving. And the funny thing is, I want him to go. He was meant to play this game. He was meant for bigger things, just like my brother. I want them both to pursue their passions.
But I want to pursue mine, too.
It’s just not as fancy, not as flashy. It’s bus stop pick-ups in the rain, carpooling to activities, and hosting sleepovers for a bunch of rambunctious tweenagers.
The practical part of my brain needs to know how we’d make it work, what the logistics would be. And the worrier in me stresses that Van would feel pulled in too many directions, that my attention would be divided, that life in the suburbs would pale in comparison to life on the road. I can hear my mom’s voice in my head, warning me not to borrow trouble. And I can hear my teenage self-replying that borrowing trouble is what I do best.
That’s one thing in my life that hasn’t changed.
“What do you think, Josie?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, realizing I’ve totally zoned out and gotten stuck in my head again.
“Mashed potatoes or twice-baked? Tom says it’s sacrilege not to serve mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving, but I like the twice-baked ones better. They have all that good, gooey cheese on top.”
Ah yes, back in my comfort zone. I can answer questions. It’s kind of my thing. “Well, the filling for twice-baked potatoes is just mashed potatoes, right? So you could serve those to the people who love them, and make a half-batch of the twice baked ones. And you could use the extra skins later, right? Justsprinkle some of that extra cheese and add some crumbled up bacon, and you’ve got a snack.”
Beth looks at me like I just solved the riddle of the Sphinx. “You are a genius. No wonder my nephew is smitten!”
I smile and focus on the ice as the announcers begin to introduce the team. I’m here to watch the game, not to spiral into despair. But I’m a genius, right? I can do two things at once.
34
Josie
Thanksgiving is a tough holiday for my family because it’s also the anniversary of my parents’ accident. We started a tradition a few years ago that makes the holiday a little easier to handle. The younger kids are in Florida with my grandparents. Levi and I get a bit of a break and the kids get to relax and spend time with Gram and Pop. We do the same at Easter and for a few weeks every summer. Parenting four children full-time would be too much for my grandparents at this stage in their lives, so this arrangement works well. Typically, I stay at school and work in the library while Levi goes to some gaming convention, but this year I’m not shelving books or cataloging new releases.
I’m spending the break with Van and his family and though I was a little nervous about all the peopling, it’s exactly the distraction I need.
Van and I had a full day. We visited his old high school and I met his coach. We caught up with a few of his friends and cousins for coffee and I’ll admit, I was a little nervous. But I shouldn’t have worried at all. Van took the best care of me. He was constantly holding my hand or including me in the conversation, filling me in on all the inside jokes.
