Page 16 of The Groupie

“One night and done. He was hot, though.” More than hot. I suffer a rare pang that I won’t see him again, but with Mamma’s health, this injury, and keeping Chuck and the Olympic officials ignorant about it, my life is already complicated enough. My phone pings as if I need a reminder. I know it’s Coach Chuck texting me again. Guess he wasn’t satisfied with my two-word response last night. I’m fine.

“Tell us about him,” Suzie says. “What did he look like? What does he do? Is there any possibility of a repeat?” She lights up like the true optimist she is. Not that I’m a pessimist, but I don’t believe in the happily-ever-after scene. I’ve been taught the ultimate lesson: that no relationship is forever, that one minute—one tragic minute—can end everything.

My mantra is live for today first and plan for tomorrow if you have a spare minute. And always live life to the fullest. Last night was living for the moment, one hundred percent living life to the fullest and turning up the dial on that. Today is about taking care of tomorrow—for Mamma Cass’s tomorrows.

“How long you staying? It can’t be long at this point in the season with the Olympic games so close.” Mamma stares at me through her rhinestone-rimmed glasses that make her eyes look like giant bloodshot marbles.

Fuck. She knows I’m hiding something.

“A couple of weeks. Didn’t you date a pro athlete once in your younger days? You have that photo of that hunky-looking football player on your bureau. When are you going to finally tell us what happened with him?” She’s told us plenty about other men, but strangely not that one. One more reason that has me wary about pro athletes, even for a fling. As if I needed another reason in addition to Chuck of the massive ego who doesn’t believe rejection is possible.

“It’s pretty obvious nothing happened with him—nothing lasting. But for a few short weeks, we had a fling. The kind a lady never forgets—and never talks about. That’s my secret memory I take out on cold gray days and run through my mind like my own private movie. Never fails to warm me up.”

“Ooh, I bet he was hot. It’s a shame it didn’t work out, but it was his loss, Mamma.” Suzie reaches out and covers Mamma’s hand with hers. The contrast between the veiny, bony and wrinkled leather of Mamma’s hand and Suzie’s smooth, creamy, and firm hand jars me. Shit. Mamma is getting old. My heart goes into overdrive and not in a good way, not like last night. No, this is fear, stark terrifying fear, that Mamma is in decline.

If I thought having my parents ripped away from me unexpectedly and swiftly as a child was a nightmare, right now, I’m wondering if it was any worse than the nightmare of watching the woman I’ve reluctantly grown to love and cherish like a parent, disintegrate slowly before my eyes. Fuck. Get yourself together. She can be fixed up. She’s not that old. She’s only in her sixties.

It’s the cigarettes doing all the damage. And that has to change. Starting with getting her into a doctor for her cough. If we can get her into shape, she should last another twenty years.

Who knows? Maybe by then, I’ll be ready to deal with…whatever.

“The problem with pro athletes, in my humble opinion,” Mamma says, “is that they’re fickle. They are literally like kids in a candy store, and I was—like any one of us are—just one more candy bar.”

“Come one now, Mamma. They’re not all like that,” Suzie says. Of course. “Ted is super, and we have a thing going on. It could turn into a special thing.”

My Suzie alarm goes off. How do people deal with big families? I have my hands and heart full worrying about just these two.

“You watch out, Suzie. Don’t make any grand plans.” I can’t help my frown.

“I know, I know. It could all get ripped away.” She touches my arm with her other hand and squeezes. “Don’t worry, Rylee. I’m a big girl. I can take disappointment if it happens.”

I want to say, how would you know? She’s never been tested, not really. Not since she was four, and she barely remembers her life before coming to live with Mamma. Doesn’t remember the god-awful group home where I met her, thank fuck. We were only there for two weeks, but it was long enough for me to know two things.

First, Suzie was a beautiful little girl who would never last without getting abused if she didn’t get out. Second, we needed to get out fast. I was only nine but smart and hyper-aware despite the shock of losing my parents in a car accident the month before. Or maybe because of it. I was told the group home was a temporary place for me until they got me a foster home, and I was told by the angel who worked for social services that it wouldn’t be long because I wasn’t a so-called problem child.

In the group home, I learned what a problem child was. Learned that some of them were older and less child-like and nastier than I ever imagined people could be. I learned how to be tough in the short span of weeks I spent there, and my top priority was protecting Suzie from the older predators.

When Mamma came along, I was skeptical at first. She’d only planned to take me. I hadn’t realized that Suzie was one of those problem children. Her mother was a heroin addict. She wasn’t dead, and Suzie had no father. You would never know it, so I took a chance.

I told my angel social worker that I wouldn’t go with Mamma Cass unless she took Suzie, too. Mamma stood there and studied me. The social worker gently reminded me it wasn’t up to me, but I met Mamma’s stare and tried to tell her without words that I meant business.

“Not technically,” Mamma had said to the social worker. “But the last thing we want is for Rylee to be a runaway.” The social worker agreed.

“What do you want to do then?” the social worker asked.

“I’ll take them both. Rylee and Suzie. They can be sisters.”

The clamp that had been squeezing my chest ever since that day my parents disappeared from the world released then, and I cried like a baby as I threw myself at Mamma Cass and hugged her, holding on for dear life.

I sniff the memory away because it’s foolish to go back, to remember any of it. Nothing but the good times should stay in your soul—according to Mamma Cass. Words I try to live by except when my fear takes hold. It’s trying to take hold right now, but I’m fighting like mad.

Mamma coughs, and I almost lose my battle, but she quiets it with a sip from her ever-present glass of water. I exchange a glance with Suzie. Her mouth is a flat line. She looks as grim as I feel.

“I have to get going,” she says, taking a donut from the box I brought in with me. “I have dance practice in an hour, and I need to warm up. Why don’t you come with me to the Garden to watch?” she invites me out of nowhere. She’s a dancer for Boston’s NBA team, and they practice in a facility near the Garden where the pro basketball and hockey teams also practice.

“I suppose I’ve got nothing better to do.” In reality, we need to talk and make a plan to get Mamma to see a doctor. I grab a donut and take a bite.

“That’s where I met Ted—at the practice facility. Maybe you can meet him. And one of his friends. There are all kinds of hunky athletes wandering around there. Who knows? Maybe you can find one to hook up with.” She winks and bites into her donut. I almost swallow mine whole as I realize the chances of finding another Zak-like experience are slim to none. Not even in a locker room full of hockey players.