“Flowers—that’s what you should’ve brought.” I look down at the dish in my hand and wonder if I have time to go back to my apartment to drop this off and then head to the nearest flower stand. There is one on almost every corner, especially near the waterfront. Surely, I can find a lovely bouquet on a Sunday afternoon.
“Are you going to come in?” I hear Reggie’s voice before I see him. I whip around and almost lose the dip. I grab a hold with my free hand and try to steady myself.
“How’d you know I was out here?” I ask, remembering that his father did the same thing to me.
“We have a camera that tells us when someone gets off the elevator.”
“But there are other apartments up here,” I point out.
“You used our code,” Reggie says as his eyes roll. It seems I should know all of this already.
“Huh,” is all I can muster. Reggie holds the door wider and welcomes me, much like his father. He’s wearing a mini version of his dad’s jersey, and so is the tornado running toward my legs, except Roxy’s is pink.
“Autumn,” she says, except my name comes out more like Au-um, but who really cares. She can call me whatever she wants because she’s cute. Reggie takes the dip from my hands which allows me to crouch down and visit with his sister.
“Aren’t you the cutest thing ever,” I say as I tug on one of her pigtails.
“I wanna braids like you, but no one do dem for me.” She shrugs.
“I can braid your hair for you.” Her eyes go wide, and she reaches for my hand. I give it willingly. She tugs me into the other room where Julius’s parents are standing. They look as awkward as I feel right now.
“Hello,” they say, stepping forward. “I’m Susan, and this is my husband, Roger.” There is no mistaking that Julius is their son. Staring at his parents, I find it hard to pinpoint who he looks like most. Julius has his mother’s smile, nose, and cheekbones, but his height and build definitely comes from his father. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Roger and Julius are twins and not father and son. They have the same dark hair, blue eyes, and olive skin tone.
“Dat’s not yous name,” Roxy says. “Yous gamma and dats gampa.” She crosses her arms for emphasis.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand to shake theirs. “I’m Autumn. Thank you for having me over today.”
Susan waves my words away. “We are happy you could join us.” She motions for me to follow her into the living room, where now, instead of the area in front of the sectional being clear, there’s a table there—filled with food. “Are you hungry?”
“Of course.” Roxy pulls me to the sofa and demands I sit next to her. Reggie returns with a glass and a can of Sprite for me.
“This is what you had when we went out to dinner,” he says as he hands it to me.
“Thank you for remembering.”
Susan and Roger take turns asking me questions. Some of which Roxy answers for me. I’m surprised she remembers things so clearly. When they ask about working at the station, I tell them that I love it and love being in Portland.
“Where are you from?” Susan asks.
“Texas, but I went to school in Chicago.”
“Your parents?” she asks.
The question catches me off guard. “Um, my dad is from Boston, and my mom, New York.”
“How’d they end up in Texas?” Roger asks.
“My dad took a job with NASA, and they moved him to Texas. I was born there. Julius tells me that you live in Michigan?”
Susan nods. “We do, normally. With everything going on right now, we rented a place not far from here. We’ll go back once the season is over.”
“I know Julius appreciates you being here.”
“There isn’t any other place we’d rather be,” Susan says.
“Except at the U of M games,” Roger adds, earning a hard eye roll from Susan.
By the time halftime starts, I’ve stuffed my face so much that I’m ready for a nap. Roxy’s curled into my side, fast asleep. But I did manage to braid her pigtails for her. She told me she plans to grow her hair as long as mine so we can be twins because our hair is the same color. According to her, we almost match.
The Pioneers are up by two touchdowns, per Reggie, when a voice echoes through the house, “Guest arriving.”
“Who’s here?” Roger asks.
“How would I know?” Susan says as she gets up. I’m trying to focus on the game, but my mind is too curious about who might be here. Would Julius’s friends come over, uninvited? I know it’s not Peyton because she travels with the team.
“Oh, dear,” I hear Susan say from the hall. I don’t know who I expect to walk in, but the person who enters is a woman wearing Julius’s jersey, with her blonde hair all done up, and a pair of tight white pants.
“Mommy,” Reggie yells from the couch. He trips over his own feet trying to get to his mother, while every nerve in my body seizes. I haven’t moved a muscle by the time she comes toward me with Reggie attached at her side.
“You can leave now. Their mother is home. Your services won’t be needed anymore.”
“I’m not the sitter,” I say, but she doesn't seem to care. “I’m—” I stop talking when Roxy stirs. Elena goes to her, jabs her elbow in my side, and picks her daughter up. Roxy cries out.
“Elena, maybe let Roxy wake up a bit before you hurt her,” Susan suggests calmly.
Roxy rubs the sleep from her eyes and looks at me, and then she looks at her mother. “Down,” she says, but Elena ignores her. “I want down.” This time she starts kicking until Elena has no choice but to set Roxy onto her feet. She comes running to me and throws herself onto my lap. I don’t look at Elena because I can feel the daggers piercing my skin.
“It’s okay, Roxy.” I pick her up and set her next to Susan. “I gotta go home, but I’ll see you at the park in a couple of days, okay?”
“No, stay,” Roxy cries.
Susan holds onto Roxy as she starts to cry. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to say something that could likely hurt Julius’s divorce case. I tell Reggie I’ll see him later, but he doesn’t respond. I don’t really expect him to with his mom in the room.
No sooner does the door shut behind me, I hear it open again. Stupidly, I turn and look only to find Elena coming toward me. “I’m back now, so whatever you have going on with my husband, it ends now.” She turns and walks back into the house. The door clicks shut, and I expect silence. Yet, all I hear is screaming.
Thirty
Julius
The game was brutal. There is no other word to describe it. The hit I took late in the fourth has made it hard to breathe. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that my chest guard protected me tonight. If it wasn’t for the pads, I think my chest would’ve caved in. What makes this pain I’m feeling worse is that the referee didn’t even throw a flag. Even the instant replay, which was for the benefit of the hometown crowd, showed the severity of it, and yet nothing. I can only hope there is a fine coming down from the league, but I won’t hold my breath. Not that I can right now anyway.