“You know it’s true,” Malcolm sneered at his son.
Cade said nothing in response.
On and on Malcolm droned through the rest of our very unpleasant Thanksgiving dinner. I felt horrible that I’d brought up the subject. I should’ve kept quiet, but I had no idea it would lead to that.
Once dinner was finished Thea and I were told to wash the dishes. I didn’t mind. I was happy to have something to do. I hated standing around feeling as if I was in the way.
“I’m sorry,” I told Thea, since I hadn’t had a chance to apologize to Cade yet. “I didn’t know bringing up football would lead to that.”
She sighed. “It’s okay. That’s…that’s just my dad. He expects a lot from Cade.”
“I can tell,” I snorted.
“He’s still a good dad,” she mumbled, more like it was something she was supposed to say rather than the actual truth. “My dad always wished he’d done more with football, so he’s been pushing Cade to do it professionally for years.”
I eyed her and she looked away, wiping the plate dry. My parents had never forced me to do anything I didn’t like and I couldn’t imagine being in Cade’s situation. I’m sure a part of him wanted to please his dad, and that had to be difficult when he knew football wasn’t what he wanted for the rest of his life.
Once we were done I went in search of Cade. I didn’t find him in his room, so I was left to explore the house as I looked for him.
When I couldn’t find him anywhere, I stepped out onto the deck for some fresh air.
It was cold and I wished I would’ve thought to put shoes on and grab a jacket.
I was about to head inside to get them when I heard voices coming from below the deck.
I crept over to the railing and saw Cade arguing with his dad.
Half of what was said made no sense to me. It was all football garble—a language I was not fluent in.
I knew if I was smart I’d turn around and go back in the house.
But something compelled me to stay.
“I don’t want to go pro!” Cade yelled, gesturing wildly with his hands, his back against the siding of the house.
“This is all you’ve wanted since you were a kid! Why would you throw that all away?!” Malcolm poked him harshly in chest.
Cade shook his head vehemently. “No, dad. This is what you want. Not me. I’ve never wanted this. Do I love football? Yes, but it’s not my life.”
“This is about that girl, isn’t it? She’s got you all messed up in the head and now you’re off track!” His dad yelled and I saw spittle fly from his mouth, landing on Cade’s jacket.
“Dad!” Cade roared, his teeth clenching. He reached up and tugged on his hair, like he was loosing patience. “She has absolutely nothing to do with this! I’ve told you for years that this isn’t for me, but you refuse to listen!”
Malcolm’s fist cocked back, connecting with Cade’s cheek.
Cade’s head swiveled to the side. He spat out blood and glared at his father. Both of the men’s chests rose and fell sharply.
Something told me this was a common occurrence for Cade. He could’ve moved and avoided his father’s fist, but instead he’d let him hit him.
“Think about what you’re throwing away.” Malcolm hissed before starting for the deck steps.
I scurried back inside and closed the door as quickly and quietly as I could.
I sat down on the couch and pretended to have been watching TV when Malcolm stepped inside.
He didn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence in any way as he headed down to the basement.
Cade didn’t return immediately and I didn’t want to go look for him if he needed a moment to compose himself.