Game Theory × NH

100 | fermium

× Mercury

"How did you and dad meet?"

Mom paused momentarily from chopping up the potatoes to look at me. She smiled, exposing her single dimple that was passed down to my brother. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged and continued to eat the cookie in my hand. "You never told me the story and I'm curious."

She didn't say anything at first, I thought maybe she wouldn't tell me and I'd have to go and drag the story out of Dad. But then she sat the knife down and ran her hands under the faucet water before drying them off with a towel.

"I didn't catch your father's eye at first," she started. "He had a thing for Maddie, one of my best friends in college. It was early September when the two of us had front row seats at one of his home soccer games. Before the first whistle blew, you're father had come over to us and started to flirt with Maddie."

I snorted. "Was he a good flirt?"

"Terrible," Mom grinned. "Ryan was the dorkiest person I had ever met, using the worst pick-up lines. He still does to this day." Then she sighed and stared off at something through the tiny window above the sink. "After the game, Maddie wanted to stay after to talk to Ryan. We had waited twenty minutes for him outside the arena and Maddie soon had to go to the bathroom. As Fate would have it, your dad took that opportunity to join us."

I imagined Mom in her early twenties, hanging around in the halls waiting for Dad - her light brown hair puffed up and curled away from her face, wearing the most ridiculous neon outfit or some kind of jumpsuit with leg warmers to stick to the stereotype, thinking about anything but the possibility of the two of them ever getting together.

"By the time Maddie had gotten back, your father and I hit it off," Mom finished.

"So..." Anders said suddenly, walking into the kitchen. "We should be thanking your friend and her tiny bladder for our existence?"

Mom laughed. "I guess you should."

"So where does Coach Sharp fit into this?" Anders asked.

"Sheila and I knew each other in high school," Dad said, joining us in the kitchen. He sat in the seat beside me and took the cookie out of my hand and stole a bite. "We were really close; she was like a sister to me. But when I met your mom, I started spending more time with her and less time with Sheila."

"She didn't like me that much," Mom added. "I guess I didn't blame her... she was there first."

"But she came around once I popped the question to your mom," Dad continued. "I guess she saw that it was pointless and that Rachel was here to stay."

This had been the most they have talked about their college years, and I wasn't going to let the conversation slip away from me. "How did you know you were in love with each other?"

I watched as Mom and Dad shared a look, and I knew that whatever answer they gave me, they both felt the same way. It was a love that began in their twenties that has carried them through to a life in their fifties. They have been together longer than they have not. And they will do so for the rest of a very long life.

"I think..." Mom trailed off. "I think it was when I stopped thinking of home as a place, and rather as a person."

And I saw it then, when they looked at each other. They were looking at their homes, their sanctuary, their safe place. In that very moment, I pledged myself that no matter the obstacles, I would find someone to share that look with even if it killed me. It wasn't going to be easy, but when I find this person, I'm not going to run from them.