He found himself glancing in the direction of the gym doors every few minutes. She was late, and though it was usually forgiven, she'd missed every home game this season. And a fifteen year old starting on varsity was a huge deal, especially to their daughter.
Jason wiggled in his lap, mumbling about the time and pointing towards the game clock, but his eyes are on the court watching his eldest watch the door as the teams changed sides.
A whistle sounds and a serve gets sent over the net.
"Mom's here!" Alison said.
His eyes snapped to the door and then to the gym floor as she walked towards the bleachers. She's still in heels and a pantsuit. Still had a phone glued to her ear.
He tried to bring his attention back to the game, but he was hooked on watching her as she mumbled into the BlackBerry, frown pulling at her lips. He can go down a list of possible people she's talking to. Juliet. Conrad. Isabelle. George. Andrew. She'd been working a lot with Thomas and Kendra lately, so maybe one of them. What she was talking about was a whole other ballgame.
She pocketed the cell phone as she took the few steps to where they're sitting. And she slid into the seat next to him.
"Hi," she muttered.
His jaw tensed, and he gave her a sideways glance before looking back towards the floor. "You're late."
"I know," she said. Her hand brushed against his arm, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me." It's gritted through his teeth. "You have a girl out there who's been looking for you since before the match started." He nodded towards the court.
"Henry," she breathed. "I'm trying my best," she told him as Jason climbed from his lap to hers.
"Be careful with mommy," he reminded his son. He looked back to her face. "It's not enough."
She leaned into him. "Is this really the place?" She waved a hand towards Alison who sat a row in front. The families of the other players filled the bleachers around them— some friends, some just plain nosy.
"I can't seem to find any other time with you."
Her right arm wrapped around Jason's middle, keeping him still. "That's not fair," she whispered.
When the whistle sounded, he looked back to the court.
And by the time the next point ended her phone was buzzing.
"Figures," he mumbled.
He watched out of the corner of his eyes as she pulled her cell from her pocket. To his surprise she hits decline.
"See Stevie daddy?" Alison pointed toward the far end of the court.
He bends down ruffling the top of her hair. "I see her baby." His number six. He smiled.
He thought maybe they could enjoy the rest of the match. If his wife's gesture of declining a call meant anything at all then maybe— Her phone rang again, and this time she had it clenched in her hand instead of tucked away in a pocket.
He watched as she again silenced it. "If you need to take it then take it but do it here."
She didn't comment, but he didn't expect her to. With his tone why would she?
They sat, for the most part, silently through the second set. He gave a cheer occasionally after a well-earned point after a long volley. Alison gave commentary when she thought necessary, and Jason kept reminded him that he'd promised him an ice cream sandwich during the third game.
It was during the next changeover when— "Shit. I'm in trouble." He heard his wife mumble.
He frowned, and he looked to her before following her eyes over to where she was staring— Isabelle stood in the doorway leading to the gym. A man he didn't recognize but based on his suit and dark glasses he could guess was also CIA, stood behind her.
"I—" She began as she made a move to stand.
She's halfway to standing when he grabs her good arm, the one that wasn't in a sling. "Don't," he said, looking her in the eyes.
"I'll only be a minute." She shook off his hand.
An empty promise he knew. He was old enough, experienced enough to realize, but their children? They believed her every time.
He watched her go, and though it wasn't the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last, today her absence, her decision to once again leave hurt a whole lot worse.
He looks back to the court, and his eyes meet his daughter's from where she stands up by the net. The disappointment was clear, and she had made a promiseto Stevie.
He lets out a breath before turning to Melissa and Ken. "Do you mind watching these two for a moment?"
"Of course." Melissa smiled.
He gave a nod as pushed up from the bench.
"Henry?" Ken called.
He turned back.
"Is Elizabeth alright?" He asked. "We noticed her arm was—" He motioned to his own arm.
He waved them off. "She's fine," He said. "She fell riding and has a small fracture in her shoulder."
It's a lie he knew, but it's the cover story they had come up with for the younger two. He thought he might as well use it for the adults too— they had no reason knowing about her most recent experience in Baghdad.
He takes the stairs two at a time, though they're a bit too long.
He found her, them, in the hallway, standing in a corner near the concessions.
Her back is towards him.
"We can wait, but—" Isabelle began.
Elizabeth held up a hand. "No. This is important. We should go now," she said.
"I need to talk to you," he butted in.
She turned. "Henry, I have to—"
"One minute."
The other two step back, and— "We'll wait outside," Isabelle said before she and the man he didn't know by name walked towards the entrance of the school.
He pulled her aside.
She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I know what I said but something came up and—"
"You have to go I know. You always do," he told her. He crossed his arms over his chest. "But don't you think this is maybe why you can't connect with her?" He asked. He watched as her face fell.
"Henry," she mumbled. Her eyes are on the floor.
"You're always making her your second priority."
"You're making me feel bad," she said.
"You should." It's blunt. He knew. It's a bit unfair. He knew that too, but still, someone had to stand up for their children. For himself. This wasn't just hurting them anymore. She was hurting him. She was hurting herself. He could see it in her eyes.
"I have to go." She sidesteps him.
~MS~
He looked at Jason through the rearview mirror. "Buddy I know we didn't get ice cream at the game, but how about we stop for some now?"
"Yes!"
He laughed at his excitement.
He looks over to the front seat. "How about you champ? Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles sound good?"
"I guess," Stevie muttered.
He looked back to the road. "We should celebrate the win." He tried to cheer her up. He glanced her way. Realizing that wouldn't be happening he decided to address it head on. "I thought you played great Stevie. I'm sure mom would've thought so too."
"She's the one missing out."
He watched as his daughter wiped a tear from her cheek.
He sucked in a breath, and his fingers gripped the steering wheel more firmly than before. He didn't think they could go on like this much longer. "Yes. She is," he mumbled.