She’d found her spring, he guessed. Too bad she’d left the rest of them stuck in winter.
He dialed the phone.
“Axel Kristiansen,” the voice boomed out.
“Hey, Dad.” Harlan forced his body to relax. “How’re you doing?” He wished once again that his dad would let his little sister have her own phone. That way, he could’ve just called her and bypassed all this.
His father said, “You calling to apologize? To tell me you’ve remembered what you owe me?” His voice was just a little bit slurred.
Breathe. In and out.
“Nope,” Harlan said. “I called to talk to Annabelle.” He left it there.
“What’s everybody’s going to think,” Axel said, “if I tell them you’re not coming for the Super Bowl after all? And not only that—what about the thing I have planned for tomorrow out at the dealership? We’ve got half the town coming for that. Am I supposed to tell everybody it’s off, because my son, the big hero, can’t be bothered to show up and support his home town? Even after he lost the game?”
“Tell them what you want,” Harlan said. “I already told you I wasn’t coming.”
“This town made you.” His father’s voice was rising now. “Every coach who took his time to help you, every teammate you ever had, every business that sponsored you. Don’t you think you owe them?” Harlan didn’t answer, and he went on. “Hell, don’t you think you owe me? Who went to bat for you with the coach when he didn’t want to play you, sixth grade? Who kicked your ass when you got lazy and made you get back out there and run another two miles? Who workedhisass off for all of you after your mom ran off? All so you could get what I got cheated out of. Now you’ve got it, and you think you did it all by yourself, don’t even think you owe me the courtesy of showing up for an event that’ll put food on the table. What the hell kind of gratitude is that?”
There was so much Harlan could have said, but there was no point. Axel’s voice had gotten even louder as he talked. How many beers down was he now? Six at least. No point, not after six. So instead, he just said, “Not gonna happen, Dad. Put Annabelle on, will you?”
“Are you on your way, or what?” Axel said.
“No,” Harlan said. “I’m not on my way. I’m not coming.” No point dressing it up. He said again, “Put Annabelle on.”
“Go to hell,” his father said. And hung up.
Harlan sat a minute, until his heart rate slowed. Then he got up, drank a glass of water, grabbed the phone again, and emailed his sister.
How’re you doing? I heard great horned owls hooting tonight and saw a bison. I’m in Wyoming. Just as cold as North Dakota, but more animals.
No answer. She was probably at a friend’s. He hoped so.
He needed to move, but he was stuck here. There wasn’t even a gym. What kind of hotel didn’t even have a treadmill and a universal machine? Failing that, he needed a drink, but since thinking that you needed a drink was the first step toreallyneedinga drink, he was going to have something else instead.
Maybe even hot cider.
* * *
Dyma asked, “Where are you going?”
Jennifer paused on her way out the door. “Just down to the lobby to make a phone call. I might hang out down there and read my book, too.”
Dyma set down her calculator. She’d been sitting on the bed with a notebook in her lap doing calculus equations, or whatever you called calculus problems. “Impossible,” was what Jennifer would have called them. She had to admit, in totally honest moments, that she wouldn’t have been Dyma even if she’d been in Dyma’s position, meaning, “a non-mother.” Her Mary Tyler Moore job would’ve been in something involving more talking and not nearly as many numbers, that was for sure, and itdefinitelywouldn’t have involved Bernoulli’s stupid equation, which she still didn’t really get. Which meant it would also have paid just about nothing, because that tended to happen when you didn’t understand calculus. Why was that?
Dyma said, “Are you going back to meet him?”
“What? No. Of course not.” She was calling her grandpa, if only because she needed to touch base with real life. And maybe because the person she wanted to call most of all couldn’t pick up anymore.
“Oh, yeah?” Dyma scrutinized her some more, then said, “Except that you probably are, because if you were meeting him, that would be the exact wrong outfit to do it in, and even you would know that.”
Jennifer would have loved to say something snarky back, but since Dyma was right, she couldn’t think what it would be. She’d washed off her makeup and changed into yoga pants and moccasin slippers when she’d thought she was going for “reading on the bed,” and she couldn’t be bothered changing now. Yeah, she was pretty sure nobody was going to be hitting on her.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she finally said anyway. “Maybe Ski Shop Guy’s down there right now. He seemed pretty desperate.”
Dyma sighed. “Mom …”
“Yep,” Jennifer said. “See you in a while.”
