The house is quiet. Birdie gone for the day at work. I went and trained for a few hours in the morning but now I'm back at my home with my thoughts.
Thoughts that have gripped tight around my chest, leaving a dull ache that permeates from the hole that formed when Drew left.
I don't know how I feel about it all. The idea that Drew had a kid all these years is mind blowing. He had talked on more than one occasion about a family, starting one, getting married and settling down. Having kids.
He would have made a great dad. He was always so good with Vida. And Julia.
I'm almost certain I want to meet him. I think I have to, curiosity but also just because I loved Drew. Drew was my brother and if his kid is out there then I need to be apart of his life. For Drew.
Birdie though. I don't know how she feels on it. It was like shell shock when Julia first told us. It stunned us both and then when the reality hit that Drew had a kid before I had ever even met him and before Birdie and Drew were ever together, it was nearly unbelievable. Only I believe Julia.
I'm not sure how to navigate this, so I do what I always do in these cases. It's a multiple step process really but step one always starts the same.
Pressing my phone to my ear, I stare at the spot on the kitchen floor where Blue's dishes sit empty. I haven't able to pack them away.
"Hey honey." My mom's voice fills my ears and my shoulders sag with relief at the sound.
"Hi mom." I mean to continue on and direct the conversation to the reason as to why I'm calling but I don't have the words.
"I just got home from shopping. Your sister blows through shoes like no tomorrow." She tells me, filling the silence with ease. "This last pair made it three months."
That's because Vida plays loose. She's dynamic and a wild card on the court. The minute you think she's going one way she switches it up. She's quick and agile, basketball like second nature to her. I guess maybe that happens when you grow up in a house where basketball was the main way I could connect to our dad. Without basketball dad and I never would have had a relationship. So naturally, Vida grew up playing.
"When you play hard, your shoes don't last." I say.
My mom laughs, a soft gentle bubble of happiness that floats through the phone and into my ear.
"So what have you done today?" She carries on, a quiet rustling in the background.
I haven't done much of anything since I've been home. My thoughts are too consuming, it's stolen my focus making me completely unproductive.
"Trained." My body feels restless perched at the counter with Blue's dishes staring at me so I get up and head for the balcony door.
The small balcony over looks a tiny courtyard that sits between my house and the house on the opposing street. A cobblestone patio with a small table and some chairs sit on it. I prefer the balcony though, it's high, giving me the opportunity to see what's going on below.
"I'll say this forever but I think they make you train too much." She comments and I smile.
When I first went to Duke and started on the team my mom and dad were constantly checking in on us. Making sure I was okay, that I felt safe. It helped a lot that Drew was there with me. But when I'd sit there and recount my school schedule and my training schedule my mom always said it was too much. And when they'd show up for a visit she'd inspect me, taking notes of any changes, if I looked thinner, tired, stressed. College though, was surprisingly none of those things for me. At least not to an overwhelming degree.
Going to college gave me a fresh start, Austin was behind bars, I was two years solid with a family. I had Drew as my roomie and Birdie nearby. I was playing basketball and for once I wasn't someone's target.
"Its pro. I have to train a lot." What I don't say is I've slipped an extra couple sessions against my nutritionist's orders.
I'm trying not to but as my body readjusts to the decrease in anti anxiety meds and my anxiety breaks through, it's an easy way to manage everything. Or easier.
She huffs something that I don't understand but I can practically see her weigh her options. Does she come over and check on me or does she not say anything because I'm an adult. She battles that a lot. And I know it's because of years of me not being okay. Of panic attacks and anxiety and my ptsd that had such a hold that the times when it wasn't pulling me under were so rare they almost didn't exist.
I've got some better coping mechanisms now and my support system has only grown. Really before I lost Blue, I was doing really, really good.
"I have to tell you something." It falls out of me suddenly like I hadn't lost words moments before.
And my mom takes it all in stride though I guess I've been doing this to her for years. It's just easier sometimes to tell her something big when the conversation is nothing, just boring small talk.
"What's that?" She says it with the same easy tone she's had this entire time.
I'm not really sure the best way to say it, if there's a best way. Either way it's going to shock my mom just like it did me. So I just say it as clean and simple as I can.
"Drew has a son."
