“Mine did.”
That didn’t surprise him.
“But what I’m about to do isn’t very godlike,” she said, pushing her cup away, leaving folded hands on the table. “I’m narcing on my son.”
“I haven’t heard that word in a while.” He would have smiled, except that she looked so serious.
Too serious.
“What’s wrong?”
“Brian’s filling up with water before weighi
ng in.”
His eyes narrowed. “Instead of eating.”
“Right.”
The little shit.
Disappointment fought with anger. Compassion won out. “He wants a place on the team more than anything,” he said, thinking aloud.
“I know.”
He glanced across at her. “So why doesn’t he just eat?”
“The sixty-four-million-dollar question,” she said sadly. “It has to do with control, and self-worth. He’s asserting control over his life by controlling his appetite. And punishing himself for not being good enough to earn his father’s love and attention.”
Oh. God. The caffeine he’d consumed that evening burned at the edges of Kirk’s stomach. Every time Valerie had spoken about her dead husband, Kirk had recognized pieces of himself. But she’d never talked about him from the perspective of her children.
Had Alicia ever once thought that she was unworthy of her father’s love? Was that how she’d explained his continual absences?
“What about Blake?” Kirk half blurted. “He doesn’t seem to have self-esteem problems.”
“His just manifests in different ways,” Valerie said, sinking Kirk into further darkness. “Brian’s my sensitive child. He internalizes. Blake is more logical, and projects his feelings on to the things he does. Ever since he started school, I’ve struggled with getting him to apply himself, to give his best effort. His counselors attribute a lot of this to a feeling that there’s no point, because his best isn’t good enough.”
“He gives his all on the court.”
“I know.” Her gaze met his and held enough to establish an intimacy he couldn’t afford. “It’s the first time in his life he’s felt this way. Which is why I couldn’t pull him off the team.”
He’d had no idea. The whole time she’d been fighting for Brian, she’d been fighting for Blake, too. Fighting a very real and frightening battle. He’d screwed up. Underestimated the risks.
“So what do you suggest?” he asked. He could put Brian on the team the next afternoon. A junior-high team wasn’t as strict as later teams would be about the number of players. He could squeeze in one more.
And he’d institute a grade-check program. Although he was doing it for Blake, it wouldn’t hurt any of his kids to have a little extra motivation to do their best academically as well as on the court.
She looked him in the eye, her blond hair framing her face and shoulders, giving her an illusion of fragility. “Do you think Brian’s ready for the team?”
“I made a deal with him.” He told her the truth. “I told him he has to gain a pound to play.”
Her mouth opened in surprise. “The boys didn’t tell me that.”
Kirk couldn’t help it. He felt sorry for her. “It was a guy thing,” he said inanely.
“Okay.” She tapped the table. “I’m going to fill him up with every fattening thing I can think of for the next couple of days. Butterfinger bars, Oreo ice cream, chocolate sheet cake, French fries, all the things I don’t normally let them eat until they’ve had something healthy. I can probably bribe him to eat enough to gain one pound. Then he’s abided by your rules and earned his place on the team.”
Her solution was a good one. Blake would win. And Brian, too; he would’ve met a standard he’d agreed to—albeit with help and not in the way Kirk had intended. But there would be time after Brian made the team to work more with the boy.