Chapter sixteen

In all the years she had known Craig, she'd never once seen him like this. But the silence was nearly unbearable. Unfortunately, she didn't know any inspiring sports quotes to cheer him up.

" It's really a nice evening. I think we should grill out, " she said. " And I think we should ask your parents to join us. We owe them." She rolled her eyes. God, she must be desperate to want Arlene over here.

" I'm not really in the mood, babe."

She tucked her blond hair behind both ears and stood staring at him. His eyes were glued to the TV, a TV that stood dark and silent. Even his cell phone remained quiet.

" Craig, it was a good game, " she said hesitantly.

" Good? We lost by one fucking point. You call that good? "

She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard him use the f-word in years. But she tried again.

" You went to State, Craig. You made it to the final game. You're acting like you got blown away."

" Blown away? We were picked to win. We should have won." He shook his head. " Goddamned call. It wasn't a foul. Jesus! Anybody could tell it wasn't a foul."

She sighed. " Okay, fine, " she murmured. I tried.

She went through the kitchen and into the garage where they kept the freezer. She took out four steaks, then hesitated, finally tossing two back in. If he didn't want his parents over, she certainly wasn't going to invite them. She feared she would end up entertaining them while he sulked in private. But no, sulking is always better when you have an audience. So, she pulled out the other two steaks after all.

And after a call to Arlene to let her know the mood her son was in, she went about catching up on the laundry she'd missed while they were gone. When she walked through the house to go upstairs, Craig was still in the same position, staring at the TV. She knew it must be devastating to lose the championship game, but still, they'd at least made it that far. How many teams could say that? She opened her mouth to say those very words but stopped. What did she know about it?

She methodically unpacked their luggage and piled up their dirty clothes to take downstairs. And she thought she had time to shower before his parents would be there. She was about to go into Angie's room to retrieve her clothes when the door opened. Craig stood there, his face drawn, sullen.

She raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged then motioned to the bed. " I could use a little attention, " he said.

" Attention? "

He walked closer. " Yeah." He took her hands and pulled her to him. " It's been weeks since we've made love."

Try months.

She stepped out of his embrace, holding him at arm's length. " You don't want to make love, Craig. You want to have sex."

" And? So? "

" And so I don't. Besides, your parents are coming over any minute."

" I told you I wasn't in the mood, " he said loudly.

" Well they're coming over just the same. We're having steaks."

" I swear, Jill, can't we spend one night alone? "

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. " Since January, you have been gone nearly every night of the week with basketball. Don't talk to me about spending time alone."

" It's my job, for Christ's sake. You know that."

" Oh yes, I know."

" And it's not like I didn't ask you to come with me. You just never want to."

" Well, like you said, it's your job."

" What's that supposed to mean? "

She turned around and gathered up an armload of dirty clothes. She shook her head. " It means nothing, Craig. But I don't care to join you in your pity party. You should be proud of how far you and the team went. These are kids, Craig. They look up to you. Is this what you want them to see? "

" You just don't understand, " he said. " You never did. It's not just a game, Jill. It's about life."

" So the message you want to portray is that you lost the game, you lost at life? Give me a break. They're sixteen, seventeen years old. How sad is it if you make them believe that this weekend was the most important event in their young lives? They've got their whole life in front of them."

" Yeah, well I don't, " he said angrily as he turned away.

" And it's always about you, " she murmured. She closed her eyes, finally letting out her breath. He wasn't worried about the kids and their frame of mind, he was just concerned about himself. It was what made him a good coach—the fear of failing. It was also what made him a horrible coach.

Later, after steaks and after his mother had effectively consoled him, he was able to turn on his cell phone. It hadn't stopped ringing.

So as soon as Arlene and Carl left, she poured a glass of wine and retreated to the back deck. The nights were still cool but not unbearably cold. The sweatshirt she'd pulled on was plenty warm enough.

She sat down and put the swing in motion with her foot, enjoying the quiet finally after three days of basketball. She wasn't even going to allow Arlene's remarks about Angie make her feel guilty. Angie was at Shelly's. And yes, it was a school night. But no, she wasn't a horrible mother. Angie had called, asking if she could stay over. After talking to Shelly's mom to make sure it was okay with them, she said yes. Their evening of rented movies and pizza sounded more fun anyway.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to relax after the whirlwind weekend they'd had. And as always, when she allowed them, thoughts of Carrie crept into her mind.

She'd intentionally kept her at bay, trying hard to blend in with the family, to enjoy the basketball weekend like the others were. Even at night, as she lay in bed, long after Craig had gone to sleep, she'd purposely shut her mind to any thoughts of Carrie.

But now back home, back in her familiar surroundings, alone in the quiet evening, she allowed them to come. And it wasn't difficult at all to conjure up Carrie's face, her smile, her salt-and-pepper hair that stood in all directions... and the pale blue eyes she'd grown to love.

Love?

She opened her eyes quickly, her heart pounding nervously in her chest. Love? She relaxed. Yes, love. Carrie was a friend. In fact, a good friend, a best friend, really. So that stood to reason she'd feel something for her. Surely.

So she closed her eyes again, again putting the swing in motion, knowing, thankfully, that tomorrow was Monday. She smiled as a familiar peace settled over her.