Page 84 of Sportsball is for Lovers

twenty-seven

. . .

Jared

Sunday brunchwith the Hershkowitz family was not high on my list of things to do while in Scottsdale. It’s not like we could conceivably say no, though. We traveled all this way to see the family. The least we could do, Bubbie Myrna sniped, was sit down for a meal.

Sadie is practically shaking as we get out of the ride-share. She doesn’t want to be here. As much as I’m not looking forward to it, I know my job is to support her.

So I will.

Taking her hand in mine, I kiss the back of her knuckles. She gives me a faint smile, distracted.

“Hey.”

She looks over at me, focusing on my gaze. “Yeah?”

“We’ve got this. We can do this,” I tell her firmly. “I’ve got your back.”

This time, her smile is more genuine. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Or me, you.” I shake my head. “Good thing we’re not keeping score.”

“We’re not?” she jokes as she rings the bell. “I thought it was a competition.”

“Nah. The only competition is how many orgasms I can give—oh, hello,” I cut off abruptly as the door opens.

Sarah, the second eldest sister, is staring with wide eyes. “Hi,” she says, a bit woodenly. She shakes her head as if to clear her mind. “You know you don’t need to ring the bell.”

Sadie shrugs. “I don’t live here.”

Her sister’s eyes fall. “I suppose not.”

Sarah is a few years older than me at thirty-four. She’s a pharmacist at the local hospital and has two kids, a girl who’s four and a boy who is almost two. She was the nicest of the three sisters I met yesterday.

Not that Talia wasn’t nice. She was fine, just a little boring. Then again, she’s a lawyer. They’re usually pretty boring. She has three kids—an infant plus two in school. I don’t know their ages because she didn’t tell me and, frankly, I didn’t care enough to ask. They’re young.

Tamar was the sister that accosted us in Sadie’s former bedroom. Can’t say I’ve been eager to talk to her.

Mr. and Mrs. Hershkowitz seem… average. He’s a Pharm.D. and a professor at the local pharmacy college. She owns an enormous catering business. Based on the spread yesterday, she does fairly well for herself.

Mrs. Hershkowitz is sitting in the armchair holding a baby. I think it’s Talia’s kid, based on how small it is. I don’t know baby size or age milestones. None of my friends in Denver had kids, and the people I’ve met in Boston aren’t in a baby stage of life quite yet. The only time I see kids is online when I keep up with my old college friends. It’s a little weird that I’ve never met the children but I know how old they are and read about all the trials and tribulations of raising them.

It just cements my desire not to have children. I’m sure they’re fine. When Yoni has a kid, I know I’ll love it. It’s not a lifestyle I want for myself. Especially if I get another job that requires me to be on the road for six months of the year, the last thing I want is to virtually abandon my child for the sake of my career. That’s not cool. It’s only setting them up for abandonment issues.

It’s bad enough that I’ll have to leave my partner for all those trips. Sadie, I believe her when she says it’ll work for her lifestyle. She wants space. She wants independence. My being on the road will give her enough alone time that she can decompress between writing her books, working at the bookstore, and all her travel.

Mr. Hershowkitz comes into the room, his big walrus mustache twitching with dissatisfaction. I think that’s his default setting.

“So you decided to join us,” he says loudly.

Sadie flinches. “We got caught in traffic.”

We’re only a few minutes later than anticipated. Hardly enough to get upset over.

“Come, sit,” Mrs. Hershkowitz says. “I want to meet your boyfriend.”

A little boy grins. “Aunt Sadie has a boyfriend.”