“We were, dear,” he agrees, “but Booker never looked like this after one of his games.”
Ollie smiles beside me and then winces because I know the movement makes his eye throb. “It’s fine, Fallon,” he says. “You’re right that Booker never had a shiner like this, Mr. Nolan. We don’t have fights like they do in the pros, but things can get physical sometimes.”
“So, we can expect more of this in the future,” Gran asks, gesturing to Ollie’s swollen face. “I thought they cut back on all the fighting because of brain injuries?”
“Yes, ma’am, they did,” Ollie answers politely. “But you won’t have to worry about my mug looking this ugly in future family photos. I’m not turning pro after I graduate.”
Ollie’s told me he never aspired to go pro, unlike some of his teammates. He doesn’t have the size or the speed necessary for the big leagues, but he loves the game, so he’s still out there giving it all for his team even though there’s no long-term benefit in it for him. To me, that’s pretty admirable, but my grandparents have jumped onto another question.
“If you’re not playing hockey, what line of work are you in, son?” Grandad asks, cutting into his steak and taking a bite.
“I’m still exploring my options,” Ollie says diplomatically. It’s code forI have no cluewhat I’m going to do next, but that doesn’t worry me. He has so much intelligence, passion, and energy, that I have no doubt someone will see his potential, even if his own father ignores it.
“Well, what’s your major? What courses do you take?” I can tell by the expression on Grandad’s face that he’s skeptical.
“I’m a philosophy major, sir,” Ollie says, as I swallow the last of my wine. This is not going well.
“Philosophy?” Grandad repeats as though it’s the most absurd course of study someone could choose. “Are you going to law school after you graduate?”
“No, sir, that’s not an area of interest for me.”
“Is making money an ‘area of interest for you’?” Grandad persists. I know he’s doing it out of love for me, but he’s taking things a step too far. “What about when you have children,” Grandad continues. “Will your ‘area of interest’ really matter if it’s a question of putting food on your table?”
Ollie’s unfazed by the interrogation, and I wonder if it’s because of all the scrutiny and judgment he’s faced from his dad. He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze before calmly answering Grandad’s question. “Fallon and I haven’t talked much about having kids, but if we do go that route, I’m sure it will be years in the future. We’re planning to travel and see the world together.”
You’d think my grandparents would be thrilled to learn that I have a traveling companion, but they’re both still stuck on the idea that Ollie and I might choose not to have kids.
This dinner is turning into a disaster, and I have to do something to stop it. “If you’ll excuse us, Gran and I are going to the ladies’ room.” My grandmother’s eyes go wide at my pronouncement, but good manners finally prevail, and she steps away from the table at the same time I do.
The moment we step into the restroom, I turn to face Gran,What are you doing? Why are you grilling Ollie?I ask.
Darling, we are doing this for your own good. You two married sohastily, and we want to be sure that Ollie is a good fit for you. We love you so much and we remember all too well how you struggled after your parents’ divorce. We don’t want you falling back into bad habits.
I blink at her, not sure I’m processing what she’s saying. It’s true that I went through a rebellious phase, but it started long before my parents split up. I was guilty of typical teenage stuff, like breaking curfew and drinking on the roof of my best friend’s house. My marriageisn’tan act of rebellion, I tell Gran.It’s an act of liberation. Ollie and I bring out the best in each other and I need you and Grandad to understand that.
Darling, we are worried about you. Jumping into marriage with a man you’ve never even dated? That’s risky behavior, Fallon.”
Before I can articulate a response, the restroom door opens, and two women walk in. Gran smiles politely and heads for the door. I understand what she hasn’t directly said. Our conversation is effectively over. I follow her back to our table to check in on Ollie. He’s sitting across from Grandad with a stoic expression on his face, and it doesn’t change when I sit next to him. The server comes to collect our plates and though I’ve barely touched my salmon, I push my plate aside. When we’re finally able to leave, I give cursory hugs to my grandparents before retreating to the warmth of Ollie’s car.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened tonight. With Ollie, I’m happier than I ever have been, but two of the most important people in my life can’t see that, and I don’t know what to do about it.
32
Ollie
Coach Novotny presses the Play button on his screen for the fifteenth time. JT, Coach Van, and Coach Baylor all watch with the same rapt attention they’ve given to the fourteen previous views of this two-second play.
My mind should be on the footage we’re watching of our opponents. It should be on tweaking our strategy for the game we play tonight at Olmsted University in Houston.
And it is. Well, it has been for the last two hours. We’re in a conference room at our hotel prepping for the game and watching game tape. But right now, my mind is replaying different footage, and not the fun kind that Fallon and I recorded. Nope. I can’t stop thinking about the dinner we had a few nights ago with her grandparents.
I cringe, remembering the questions her grandfather pelted me with while Fallon was in the restroom with her grandmother. If I wanted someone to tear me apart and criticize all my life choices, I could have just called my dad.
Besides, he didn’t like any answer I gave him, and I didn’t like any of his questions. No, I don’t know whereexactly I’ll be in ten years, other than by Fallon’s side. And no, we don’t have any plans to start a family soon. We’re a family just as we are right now. I played along as well as I could, but it wasn’t easy. And the fact that I showed up looking like I’d just lost a fight didn’t help my cause.
But Fallon’s close with her grandparents, so as rocky as the other night was, I’m willing to try again if they are.
That dinner was brutal, but the next one will be better, I know that for sure. If the last few weeks have shown me anything, it’s that Fallon and I are a great team. “We’re a great team. A phenomenal team,” I say, belatedly realizing that I’m voicing my thoughts aloud when four pairs of eyes give me quizzical looks.
