The Sixth Man Read online

  Alex felt his entire body go stiff. His hands started tingling the way they did when something frightened him. He thought, I should have seen that one coming. But he hadn’t.

  “Isn’t he a lot younger than you?” he said.

  She laughed. “Actually, I thought that too. I told him I was thirty-nine and probably a little too old for him. Turns out he’s thirty-six. He just looks younger.”

  His mom, he knew, looked younger than thirty-nine.

  “So…you want to go out with him?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t really feel like seeing anyone for a long time….But I think I’m ready to give it a try now, and he seems like a nice guy.”

  “And he’s good-looking.”

  “Doesn’t hurt.” She smiled. “But if it’s going to bother you, I’ll tell him no. I didn’t give him an answer yet.”

  “Did you tell him you were going to talk to me about it?”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position if I ended up saying no and he thought it was because of you. I said I hadn’t dated anyone yet and that I needed to think about it.”

  Thank God for small favors, Alex thought.

  “You want to go, though, don’t you?” he said.

  She looked him directly in the eye. “Not if it’ll bother you,” she said. “But yes. I think it’s time.”

  Alex sighed. “You should do it.”

  “Sure?”

  “Sure.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek as she stood up. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her look so happy.

  “So they’re going to dinner tonight?”

  “Yup. I think he’s taking her to the Oyster House downtown.”

  Christine nodded. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of it. Supposed to be the best seafood in Philadelphia. It’s really nice.”

  Alex and Christine’s date wasn’t nearly so fancy. They’d decided to ride their bikes to the mall and get pizza. The day was surprisingly mild for December, and Alex had found that riding his bike wasn’t that difficult since his fingers were free. Christine’s mom had volunteered to pick them up at the mall after the movie.

  “So how are you feeling about this?” Christine asked.

  Alex realized he had been holding a slice of pizza in his good hand and staring into space for several seconds.

  “I guess I have to be okay with it, don’t I?” he said. “I just wish it had been anybody but my basketball coach.”

  She nodded. “I get that.”

  He looked at her. “How did you feel when your parents started seeing other people?” Christine’s parents had been divorced for a while.

  “Honestly, I was too young to understand it,” she said. “Now my mom has been going out with the same guy for a long time, and he’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone my dad goes out with. Which is fine with me. I don’t think there’s anyone serious.”

  Alex nodded. “Well, who knows. Maybe they won’t like each other.”

  “What if they do?”

  “I’ll deal with it when I have to.”

  “Did Coach Archer say anything about it when he picked you up for school the last few mornings?”

  He shook his head. “No. I guess he figured I’d bring it up if I wanted to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?”

  “You did bring it up with me….”

  “I know. But I’m done now.”

  The best part of the day, as far as Alex was concerned, was walking through the mall and seeing the way the other guys looked at Christine. She wasn’t dressed up—jeans, sneakers, and a red-and-gold Lions hoodie—but she was still hard to miss. Her long black hair wasn’t tied back the way it usually was for school. Alex wished he could wear a sign that said, YES, SHE’S WITH ME.

  He also liked the fact that she was so easy to talk to. She was smart and funny, and—perhaps most important—she knew at least as much about sports as he did. And a lot more about dealing with divorced parents.

  Alex didn’t really see much of the movie. His mind was on other things. Finals, which he thought he’d squeaked through okay. Friday night’s game, which Chester Heights had won easily. And his mom’s date, which he kind of hoped wouldn’t go so well.

  He also spent a good amount of time wondering if he should put his arm around Christine. He was on her right, so his good arm, the left one, was available. But then he remembered his dad warning him about putting your arm around a date at the movies.

  “Once you put your arm there you can not remove it,” he had said. “If you remove it, your date will think you don’t like her, and there will be hell to pay when the movie is over. So you have to leave it there. And, after a while, your arm is going to go to sleep. Then you are going to feel pain like no pain you have ever felt. You will wish you were in a dentist’s office having your teeth drilled.”

  Alex knew his dad had probably been exaggerating, but still. He kept his hands in his lap—and thought about how he really missed doing things with his dad.

  After the movie, Alex was hungry again, so they found an ice cream shop and ordered cones.

  “What’s your favorite sport?” Christine asked as he was trying to keep his cone from dripping all over his hand. They were sitting at a table in the food court.

  “To play or to watch?” he asked once he had the cone under control.

  “Play,” she said.

  He hadn’t really ever thought about that. He knew that a lot of guys his age had been focused on one sport for years. His best friend in Boston, Buzz Capra, had gone to live at a tennis academy when he was eleven. He heard occasionally from Buzz by email and knew two things: he was now ranked number twelve in the nation among fourteen-and-under tennis players, and he was miserable.

  “Probably baseball,” he answered finally. “I love to pitch and I love to hit. Basketball’s a lot of fun too, but I’d say I like baseball the most.”

  She looked surprised.

  “What about football?” she said. “You’re a very good quarterback, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  He smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I like football. But it beats you up. The practices are hard. It might be my best sport, but I enjoy baseball and basketball more.”

  She nodded.

  “When you go to college, you’ll have to choose,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “But I’m not worried about that yet. I’m only a freshman. Right now I’m just worried about getting my wrist healthy.”

  “So you can punch Zane Wakefield in the nose?” she said.

  “There’s a thought,” he said, smiling. “Definitely a thought.”

  It occurred to Alex as they went to get their bikes and meet Christine’s mom that once they were in the car he really wouldn’t have a chance to kiss her goodbye. Which, maybe, was a little bit of a relief. He had no idea if she wanted him to kiss her or not.

  But as they wheeled their bikes to where they were supposed to be picked up, he decided to venture out onto a different limb.

  “So,” he said. “I had fun.”

  “Me too,” she said. “I think I’ve seen about eight versions of that same movie, but I liked it anyway.”

  That wasn’t very helpful. Had she had a good time because she liked the movie or because she had gone to the movie with him?

  He decided to take the plunge.

  “So maybe we can do something after Christmas, then?” he said. “Before school starts?” He knew she’d be visiting relatives for a while, then back before New Year’s.

  She looked at him and smiled that smile that made his knees feel weak.

  “Are you asking me out on another date?” she said.

  Why did girls—at least this girl—have to make life so difficult?

  He squared his shoulders.

  “Yes, I am,” he said.

  “Okay, then, sure,” she said, and then waved at her mother, whose car was pulling up.

  Alex let out a deep
breath. He’d have time to reconsider that kiss soon.

  Alex hadn’t seen his mom dressed up for a long time. He was sitting on the couch in the family room, eating Chinese food, when she came downstairs. Molly had gone to sleep over at their cousins’ house, so he would have the place to himself for the evening.

  Alex knew that his mom was pretty. His friends had told him that for as long as he could remember. Now, seeing her in a fancy dress and wearing high heels, Alex had to admit they were right.

  “Mom, you look fantastic,” he said. He had decided it was important to be a good sport about all this—no matter how queasy it made him feel.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You really think so?”

  On cue, the doorbell rang. Alex answered it. Coach Archer, dressed in tan pants, a blue blazer, a white shirt, and a pale blue tie, stood there, looking nervous.

  “How’s the wrist, Alex?” he asked as he walked inside.

  “Better,” he said. “No real pain anymore.”

  Coach Archer walked over to his date. “Wow, Linda, you look great,” he said.

  He turned back to Alex. “I promise to bring her home early,” he said with a smile.

  This was a very different Coach Archer than the one Alex saw at school. He was smiling and clearly trying to make a good impression—on everyone.

  “I’ll be waiting up for you, young lady,” Alex said jokingly to his mom. “Check in every hour.”

  They both laughed, and Alex’s mom grabbed her coat.

  “Call or text if you need me,” she said in the doorway.

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. Lots of hoops to watch. You go have fun,” he said, silently adding, but not too much fun.

  The door closed. Alex turned on the television. Villanova was playing Saint Joseph’s. He knew the game was a big deal in Philadelphia since both schools were part of the Big Five. He tried to focus but wasn’t doing a very good job. The phone rang.

  It was his dad.

  “Hey, Alex, I was hoping you’d be home,” he said.

  Alex had learned to be skeptical about almost everything his dad said. There had been a lot of promises to come visit that hadn’t been kept. If his dad really wanted to talk to him, why hadn’t he called his cell phone, which was sitting right in front of him?

  “Just watching a basketball game,” Alex said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing, really,” his dad said. “Back from LA. I was going to check with your mom to see how you and Molly were doing. Talk about your coming up here…”

  “Molly’s spending the night at Aunt Joan’s,” he said. “Mom’s out….” He paused. “With a friend.”

  If his dad wanted to know more about the friend or where his mom had gone, Alex couldn’t tell. In fact, he quickly changed the subject.

  “How’s the wrist,” he said. “Still hurting?”

  “Not as much,” Alex said. “It throbbed a lot the first couple days, but now, as long as I don’t let the cast hit anything, it’s fine.”

  “That means it’s healing,” his dad said. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. We don’t play again until the twenty-ninth. I probably won’t be back by then. But conference starts on the ninth, so I hope I’ll be ready for that.”

  “So you’ll only miss a few games—that’s not too bad.”

  “Four,” Alex said. “We played last night.”

  “How’d they do without you?”

  Alex almost smiled. “Won pretty easily. Bad team.”

  Alex heard someone talking in the background. His dad broke in. “Alex, I gotta go. Tell your mom I’ll try to call tomorrow.”

  “Dad, she’s out on a date.”

  The words came out of Alex’s mouth before he had even finished wondering if he should say something about it. The voice in the background had been female. For a moment, there was silence on the other end of the phone.

  Then his dad spoke slowly. “Well, good…That’s good….Who…is…it?”

  Alex was deciding whether he should tell his father anything more when he heard the voice again. This time the words were clear. “Dave, we’ve got to go.”

  His dad had turned away from the phone, but Alex could still hear him clearly. “I’ll be there in a minute—”

  “Look, if you’d rather talk to your ex-wife—”

  “I’m talking to my son.”

  Alex heard a spark of anger in his father’s voice that made him smile.

  “I’ll be in the car,” the voice said.

  “Alex, I’m sorry,” his dad said, coming back on the line.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Alex said. “You have to go.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow. I—”

  “Don’t say you promise, Dad,” Alex said. “Just call if you can.”

  “I love you, Alex.”

  Alex hesitated. His dad hadn’t said that to him in a long, long time.

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  Alex tried to wait up for his mother but failed. He was sleeping on the couch when he heard her come in. He glanced at his cell phone—almost 1:00 a.m.—and pulled himself into a sitting position.

  “Alex, why aren’t you upstairs?”

  He pointed at the TV and reached for the remote to turn it off. “Fell asleep watching a game.”

  She sat down next to him and smiled. “Waiting up to make sure I didn’t stay out too late?”

  “Sort of. Did you have fun?”

  She nodded. “Yes. He’s a nice guy. He’s really upset about what happened to you.”

  “Where did you go after dinner?”

  “You mean, ‘Why were you out so late, young lady?’ We went to a club downtown. To tell you the truth, it was much too loud for me. Even when I was young I didn’t like places like that. Now I’m a middle-aged mom. It’s not for me for sure.”

  “Mom, you’re only thirty-nine.”

  “Which means I’m almost forty. Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s way past both our bedtimes.”

  That sounded good to Alex. He decided against asking her if she thought she and Coach Archer would go out again. He had a feeling he knew the answer.

  Lighting Hanukkah candles on Sunday night felt very strange to Alex without his father.

  Alex and Molly had grown accustomed to celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas. Dave Myers was Jewish; Linda Myers—the former Linda Reilly—was Catholic. Neither practiced their religion very much, so Alex and Molly hadn’t gotten any formal religious training. But their mom insisted that holidays—both Christian and Jewish—be celebrated so the kids would know something about their heritage on both sides. Which was why their home always had a menorah and a Christmas tree. Their mom sang Christmas carols, and their dad knew enough Hebrew to recite a prayer each night of Hanukkah while they lit the evening’s candles.

  Both his parents loved to tell the story of Alex’s first Hanukkah prayer, which had taken place when he was six. Alex’s own memory of it was vague, but he knew the story by heart because it had been told so many times.

  Apparently, when Alex’s mom had asked him if he wanted to say a prayer as they lit the menorah, Alex had eagerly replied, “Oh yes, I’d really like to.”

  “Then go ahead,” his mom had said.

  “Oh, God,” Alex said as he lit the candle, “thank you for inventing Christmas!”

  When his dad told the story, he would always finish it by saying, “Let’s face it, Christmas is more fun.”

  Alex had always enjoyed Hanukkah too—even though his parents had never accepted their kids’ contention that there should be eight presents for eight nights. There were usually two—one on the first night and one on the last night.

  Molly got two new apps for her cell phone, and Alex got a new Patriots sweatshirt with a hoodie, à la Bill Belichick. His mom had done her best with the candle-lighting prayer, but it still felt strange without his dad.

  “You haven’t got the accent,” Molly said.

  “I know,” Linda Myers said, looking a little sad. />
  “Yeah, but it was still pretty good,” Alex said, seeing the look on her face. “Better than I could have done.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Alex.”

  He and Molly were taking a train to Boston on Monday morning to spend three days with their dad—their first visit since the move to Philadelphia. They would be back on Christmas Eve, but their mom would be alone for three days. So, after the candle lighting, when they sat down to dinner, Alex asked his mom if she had any plans for when he and Molly were gone.

  “Mostly I plan to do nothing,” she said. “I’ll finish my Christmas shopping, try to get the house clean—unpack some boxes we’ve never opened—and relax. I’ll miss you both, but a few days of no pickups or drop-offs or cooking won’t be a terrible thing.”

  Alex decided not to ask her if she had any social plans.

  After dinner, Alex volunteered to help with the dishes, while Molly headed off to try out her new apps.

  “By the way,” his mom said as he was loading the dishwasher. “Evan’s visiting family this week, so you don’t have to worry about me out on another date while you’re gone.”

  He wouldn’t have said he was worried, exactly, but it was kind of a relief.

  “What about when he comes back?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, we’ll see,” she said.

  The upbeat tone in her voice—even in just three words—answered his question. If he had said a Hanukkah prayer at that moment, it would have had very little to do with thanking God for Christmas.

  The next morning, their mom drove Alex and Molly to Thirtieth Street Station to catch the Acela Express to Boston. Alex saw no need for their mom to escort them into the station, but she insisted.

  It occurred to Alex as they walked into the huge lobby of the station that he had never traveled by train before. The family had always traveled by car or, for a big trip, by plane. And all the teams he had played on had traveled by bus.

  “Wow, this place is gigantic,” Molly said.

  “That’s why I wanted to come in with you,” Linda Myers said.

  They found the train listed on a big board in the middle of the lobby. En route to the gate, they stopped so Alex could pick up a copy of the New York Times. He knew his dad read the Times and the Boston Globe every morning. Since his mom only subscribed to the Inquirer at home, he couldn’t access the Times online and he missed some of the sportswriters.