Knowing that—the gift and rarity of it—all I want right now is the ability to stop the oxygen flow, to cease the reminder pumping in my chest, because the beat feels unnatural now.
The high of playing for an audience that size rapidly dissipates as I stand back, watching those around me embrace in melancholic-laced celebration. Emotions riding high, pieces of me rattle and begin to dismantle inside my skin. For the first time in a very long time, I feel underlying darkness threaten to overtake me.
“I’ve been faithful.”
Knowing she might be here today, even knowing who for had amped my anticipation in coming and revived some lingering hope. Every bit of that hope evaporated when I saw her wearing his number—literally wrapped in his fucking name—in his arms and kissing him. That image continually resurfaces, stoking the notion I might have given so much of my love—of myself in vain. I should be riding one of the greatest highs of my life, but it feels more like a white-hot burn raging inside of me during a moment I need to be present. A moment my dad’s been working toward most of his life.
“I know you’re upset, but it can’t be tonight. This night is monumental for him.”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe, knuckling my chest, fully absorbing the depth of her plea to me the night we split. Nothing could have kept me away from being here for my parents tonight. Nothing.
Dad gently sets Mom on her feet, her beaming smile lighting up the hall before she turns, eyes searching for and finding me before she makes a beeline my way. It’s all I can do to maintain my grin as she rushes me and pulls me to her. My insides start to come apart as she murmurs her praises. “No words, baby. No adequate words will do. You just made history. That was the best surprise of my life.”
“It was Dad’s idea.”
“You both got me good.” She pulls away and palms my jaw. “There’s not a soul alive who can deny your talent now. Get ready, son. There’s no stopping this train,” she says with surety.
“Thanks, Mom,” I utter softly as my ability to keep the burn at bay falters while pieces of me begin to ignite—Natalie’s parting shot setting each one of them alight.
“I’ve been faithful.”
My wife should have been here. She should be here now, finally taking full claim to the name I gave her, along with her rightful place by my side.
I’ve given her no reason to be here, not after what I said. I pushed her too far. Even as she confessed that she was miserable, I’d laid into her with all the anger I felt—that I still feel. She did forsake me, us. She allowed her guilt to overrule what we had. I put us first, and she martyred us.
Because of that, I let the monster take over and speak on my behalf, making it clear I would never forgive her. I made the notion of there being a future for us an impossibility and slammed the door. I probably just pushed her into the decision of moving on, whether it be with the fucking quarterback I shook hands with or someone else.
Even with some of my animosity justified, the burn doesn’t lessen.
I told her she was a fucking stain because I couldn’t see anything other than another man’s kiss fresh on her lips. So, why would she be here?
“Motherfucker,” I wheeze as I try to grapple with the fallout, finding no relief in any of my justifications.
I love her. Justifiable anymore or not, I love her.
Desperate to douse the overpowering and debilitating loss, I search for distraction and spot Ben, Rye, Adam, and Lucia pulling up in the cart behind ours.
Benji appears and yanks me into his embrace with Lexi on his heels.
“That was fucking…just incredible, brother,” Benji claps me on the back, rare emotion heavy in his voice before Lexi pulls me to her, her face littered by mascara streaks when she pulls away. The chatter in the hall continues as the moment is celebrated by all with heartfelt sentiments and long embraces.
“I’m not a rock star anymore.” The emotional declaration cuts through the chatter.
A palpable stillness fills the air as every head turns to the source of the disruption where Ben sits in the cart, his eyes zeroed in on Lexi. Mom releases Lexi from her hold as she turns to face Ben while he slowly exits the cart, eyes shimmering but intent. “Do you hear me, Lexi?” He rasps out hoarsely. “I’m not a rock star anymore…”
We all wait with bated breath as Ben stills, lowering his head as if pulling together the words he’s waited a lifetime to say. When he lifts his eyes, his emotions spill over. “Now all I am,” he swallows, “is the boy you fell in love with, who turned into the man you had a baby with.”