The Trouble with Kissing Connor

Chapter 33 - Connor

I climbed back down the trellis with a sense of finality—How many more times would I get to climb up and down this piece of slatted wood to see Sadie?

I walked across the lawn dividing our houses and stopped when I got to the tree. It had grown over the years and was so big, it had started obscuring our view. I didn't feel like going home and when I approached the house and saw my father's car in the driveway, I really didn't feel like it.I contemplated climbing into my window and hiding in my bedroom until he left, but the bubbling anger I felt as I looked at his car and imagined him in our house, made me want to confront the man.

So I marched through the front door and found my parents sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee as if nothing had happened. My mother was clearly a good pretender.

My dad rose from his seat when he saw me and approached. "I still haven't had a chance to congratulate you. You played a great game today, son." He never called me son. It was as if he thought placing the word 'son' in his sentences would turn him back into a good father.

"What are you doing here?" I asked flatly.

"Well, I wanted to know what the scout said. We both do." He looked to my mom and she nodded with a smile—Isn't this the same woman that had been falling apart just a few days ago?

I shrugged. "He offered me a chance to compete for a that scholarship."

"What?" They were both out of their seats now.

"That's wonderful!" my dad said.

My mom jumped in. "It's everything you've worked towards."

"Yup! Supposedly it's everything I've ever wanted," my tone was flat and disinterested.

"Why aren't you more excited then?" my mom asked.

"You're going to take it, right? It's the best Tennis academy in the country," my dad added, "and you've always wanted to go there. So many professionals have graduated from there. And we could never afford a place like that in a million years."

I shrugged. "I know all that," I mumbled and then pulled a chair out and sat down at the table with them. I had this sense of being utterly defeated, even though I'd won all my games today, I was defeated.

There was a pregnant pause as my parents continued to stare at me. "Connor?" My mother pressed. "You are going to take this..."

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"But this is everything you have ever wanted," my dad said, raising his voice. I swung my head around and looked at him.

"Is it dad?" I asked. "Is it everything I have ever wanted?"

"You love playing tennis," my mom added.

"That's just the thing," I said, "I'm not sure that I do love playing tennis."

"What do you mean?" My dad asked.

I hung my head and stared down at the table, an old brown coffee stain ring caught my attention, and I traced it with my finger, around and around. When I was done, I finally looked back up, looked straight at my dad. "You know why I started playing tennis in the first place, don't you?"

"Because you enjoyed it?" he said.

I shook my head. "No actually. I didn't enjoy it. In fact, I didn't like it at all when I first started playing. The only thing I liked about it, was that I got to spend time with you, doing something that you loved. I got to go to the club with you and spend my Saturdays there, playing, or watching you play. And you were so proud of me when I started getting really good at it. That's what I liked most about playing tennis, not the actual game, I liked everything that went with it. And that was you, dad."

My dad shook his head and his eyes widened in shock. "I...didn't know that's how you...felt."

"Well, now you do," I said.

"Connor, if you don't want to play tennis, you don't have to." My mom reached out and took my hand. "Your dad and I don't want you to do something that you don't enjoy." She squeezed my hand and I squeezed it back.

"Your mom's right," my dad said, "if you don't want to play tennis, you don't have to. I never wanted you to do something that you didn't like, just for me–"

"For you?" My head snapped up and I looked at me dad again, this time I felt tears pricking against my eyelids. "Yes dad, I did do it for you. And you know why? Because you were my hero. I looked up to you so much and when I was little, I wanted to be just like you, in every single way possible. I wanted to be good at the things you were good at so everyone would know that I was your son, your son. I've spent most of my life playing a sport I don't even think I really enjoy, just because I wanted to be like you and now...." I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face, even though I really, really didn't want to cry. "And now you are not the person I thought you were, and looked up to my entire life. You're not that person, because the person I know and looked up to, wouldn't just walk away from his family like you're doing now."

I jumped up out of my seat and started running from the table, I didn't want to be there in that kitchen a moment longer, but as I reached the stairs, my dad's voice made me stop.

"I'm sorry, Connor," he called after me. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you like this, that I've fallen off the pedestal and that you can finally see me for what I really am....human. Imperfect. Capable of mistakes and making the wrong decisions."

I reached out and grabbed onto the staircase bannister as I felt my shoulders start to shake. That was the only reason I knew I was crying, because my shoulders were shaking and my legs didn't feel like they would keep me up any longer. In fact, I knew they wouldn't. I let the banister go and sat down on the bottom stair. I pulled my knees towards me and put my head down on them and cried.

Everything felt so wrong. Nothing in my life felt like the way it should be. In the last few weeks, my entire universe had changed around me, and I was spinning out of control like a planet that had been knocked out of orbit.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and then another one. Out of the blurry corners of my vision, I could see that both my parents were standing next to me, both reaching out and touching my shoulders. It felt good, but I also knew that this might be one of the last times it happened. How often would we all be in the same room together like this again? My family was breaking apart, my world was breaking apart.