Page 20 of The Other Side of Wild
“Oh, so this isn’t a date?” I groan as my head falls back behind me. You’d think my mom would be a bit less intrusive at the age of twenty-eight, but nope. Not the case.
“Amy cut the man some slack. He’s leaving hockey to be a carney.”
“I’m guessing you talked to Tate, and he didn’t give you the full context of the situation.” That grade-A jerk wad. We agreed we’d talk about this over family lunch. I’m sure he laughed as soon as he got off the phone. In fact, I’m almost positive he had that smile that rivals the Grinch before he stole Christmas stretched across his face.
“I did, yes. He said you two were going to be sitting in dunk tanks and running sports-related games at a carnival.” My dad’s voice a mix of confusion and disbelief. Ridiculous, this family.
“Okay then. Yes, that is accurate; however, he left out the most important details, such as the fact that it’s a charity event put on byThe Tampa Today Magazineto raise money for youth sports. Their goal is to fully sponsor at least two hundred kids next season for whatever sport they choose to play. The dunk tanks are happening, yes. However, you only get to dunk athletes if you purchase game tickets, which also goes toward their goal. The sports games are going to be set up as ‘beat the pro,’ it gives the kids a chance to try out multiple sports and see which one they like best if they don’t have a favorite already.”
I can practically hear his eyes bug out through the phone. There’s an audible inhale, I brace myself because I know what is coming.
“You two are part of a charity event that benefits youth sports, and you didn’t think to tell me about it?! That’s my bread-and-butter, Greyson William. What were you thinking?” If I could get my hands around Tatum’s throat right now.
“Dad, I figured this was a conversation better suited for our next get-together. And I told Tatum that when I spoke to him about it.”
He sighs, fingers tapping against whatever surface his phone is on, “While I appreciate the sentiment, there’s a lot I could have been doing to help.”
Hannah pulls out of my hold and places her hand on my shoulder. “Hi, Mr. Wilder, Mrs. Wilder. My name is Hannah, and I work forTampa Today; I’m covering the Hawks this season. Greyson here kindly offered to help me plan this event. He told me that you sponsor an entire hockey team every year; I think that’s amazing. The world needs more people like you.”
“Well,thisone certainly seems polite.” My mom says under her breath, not as quiet as I’m sure she thought she was.
“Amy, leave the kids alone.” Dad chimes in, “Thank you, Hannah. It’s a blessing to be able to help kids play the sport that has held such a big part of my heart for a very long time. Is there anything I can do to help you reach your goal?”
Hannah doesn’t miss a beat, “We could use auction items as that’s what will drive the most donations. However, we could always use more help getting the word out. The more people we have talking about it, the more buzz it creates, hopefully driving more attendance.”
Her calm demeanor as she speaks conflicts with the tension I see in her shoulders. As soon as my dad started talking to her, her shoulders made their way up toward herears. The light grip she had on my shoulder tightened just a bit. Interesting.
“I’ll call some buddies, and we can get some signed jerseys from the geezer crew.” We nod as if they can see us and thank him.
Hannah and I fill my parents in on some of the smaller details of the event. My dad oohs and awes every so often as Hannah explains the different businesses that will be in attendance.
Most of the booths are small local businesses, from food to gifts to artwork and so on. She basically brought a farmers’ market to the carnival. A carnival that professional athletes will be participating in, giving these small shops a huge chance at getting marketing they’d normally have to pay thousands for. Athletes draw crowds, and bigger crowds mean more exposure; more exposure means there’s a possibility for increased sales for these businesses. Which, in turn, helps support their families. It’s a win for everyone.
Finally, we get my parents off the phone when the pizza gets here. I grab her a slice, put it on a plate, and hand her a napkin and some parmesan cheese before taking a seat on the barstool next to her. “Sorry about them, they can be a bit...Much.” She was mid-bite; I got the cheesiest, pun absolutely intended, smile around her pizza. I can’t help but stare as she chews.
“They seem awesome. I wish my parents were more like that.” She winces as she says it, almost like she didn’t mean to.
“Tell me about them?” I hold my breath as I wait; I pushed too far, didn’t I?Dang it, Wilder. Dial. It. Back.But to my surprise, she answers.
“My mom and I are closenow; we weren’t until I moved out here. I have a brother, Eli, who is five years younger than me. He and my mom were always inseparable growing up.” She’s playing with the edge of her plate to distract herself.
“And your dad?” She freezes.
Clearing her throat, she straightened herself out a bit, still not looking at me. “He died before I left for college.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Placing my hand over where hers has resumed picking at the side of her plate. She scoffs.
“Sorry. I’m um—I’m not sorry.” Scratching her forehead with her other hand, she finally looks at me. “He wasn’t a good man. At least not to me. His literal last words to me were, “I’d hate to be you.” And that’s Dennis Lowery in a nutshell.”
I’m sorry, what? Hold the phone. “He said what? I’m going to need some context here because there’s no way that wasn’t a joke. Right?”
She looks over at the couch with a longing expression. “Want to go sit?” I ask, hoping it doesn’t break the circle of trust we’re currently in.
“Please.” She whispers
She’s quiet as she sits down on the far end of the couch; I gave her the blanket I bought after I saw one at her house. Figured if she ever came over here, she’d appreciate it. I smile as she grabs it and wraps it around herself, snuggling into the softness of it. I may or may not have sprayed it with my cologne over the past few days: the good one, Sauvage.
I don’t know how long we sit in silence, but I don’t like it. It’s reminiscent of Kara and I’s relationship. Any time I wanted to talk about something deeper than surface level, I had to drag it out of her. It was like pulling teeth. The feeling I’m getting here is eerily similar. I can’t take it. “Are you okay?” I finally ask.