Chapter 2

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"Julie, babe, is that you?" I hear Dean Portman's voice for the first time in twelve years. It sounds exactly the same as it had the night before he left. We'd had sex the night before he left, all the time he swore he loved me, would love me forever, would never leave me…and he was gone in the morning.

"No, it's Barbara Streisand. Who do you think it is?" the bitterness of my own voice surprises me, and he doesn't answer. "Sorry," I mutter.

"Forget it. How's it going?" he asks me.

"Fine. How are you?" I ask back in a voice of forced calm.

"I'm alright," he says, and for the first time his voice sounds strained.

We sit in silence for a minute, and I notice that Jack and Chase have turned off the television and left the room.

"Do you have a reason for calling, Portman?" I ask. No use beating around the bush. What the hell does he want? Why would he call tonight? Why would he call at all?

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I do, I just…" he starts, but I cut him off.

"You just, what?" I snap. I'm so confused right now. I don't know what to do. Somebody help me…

"I'm in town, and I want to see you," he answers flatly.

"Oh, how nice, what should we do? Have tea?" my voice is dripping with sarcasm. I can hear it. It's kind of scary.

"Cut the bullshit, Julie; I want to see you…and the boys."

"Oh, you remember them, huh?" I ask him, my voice still sarcastic.

"Of course I do. Are you kidding?"

"Not really. You've been to see them, what? Never in twelve years? Listen, we're busy, we can't just drop everything-"

"I'm not expecting you to. We'll meet whenever you want. What's good for you?"

"How about...never?" I finally lose it. "You just expect me to meet you some place? Are you kidding me, Dean Portman!? You walk out for twelve years and you just expect me to-"

"Julie, listen. I just want to see you and Jack and Chase. Please, you can bring someone if you want, if you feel like you need another person, please Julie…" he begs me.

What do I do? I want to go, but I don't. I want to see him, but I can't. What will the boys think? How will they react? What do they want? Maybe I'd better ask them before I do anything? It would allow me to buy some time, to think things over, to let me sleep on it…

I must have been quiet a while, because I'm brought back from my own thoughts by Portman tentatively asking me, "Julie? Are you there? Are you alright?"

No, I'm definitely not alright. "Could you call back tomorrow night? I have to think about it," I tell him finally.

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Do you need the number?"

"No. It's listed. Besides, I memorized it a long time ago." He memorized it a long time ago? What? "I'll call you tomorrow, Julie, around the same time."

"Goodnight Portman."

"Goodnight, Julie...I love you."

I hear his phone click, and I put mine down as well. I think I'm in shock. Who the hell does he think he is, just showing up after all this time? Why does he have to show up? Why does he want to hurt me? Why does he have to call? Why couldn't he just leave us alone?

"Mom, are you ok?" Chase asks me, as he and Jack reenter the room, and I have the nagging feeling they were standing right outside the door.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You've got tears running down your face," Jack informs me, handing me a tissue from where we keep the box on the coffee table.

I wipe my tears away, slightly ashamed for crying, and do some quick thinking. What do I do? Should I tell them their father wants to see them? Or should I pretend the whole possibility isn't out there, and he just called about money or something? I'd rather do the latter, and just keep Portman out of all our lives at this point, because he could want to take them from me. I won't let them go…but I guess he does deserve to see them. After all, he is their father. But the bastard's been gone for years and has never even called them. He doesn't deserve to see them, because he's been a horrible father, if you can even define him as one, for twelve years.

Wait a minute. This is Portman we're talking about. Even if I don't want him to see the boys, he'll find a way to do it anyway. I didn't want to sleep with him yet, but he somehow got me to do it anyway, and somehow convince me it was a good idea. If he wants something bad enough, he'll get what he wants, just because he's Portman. Nothing stops him.

I guess I'll tell the boys what they deserve to know, and save Portman the effort of sneaking around trying to get at the boys anyway. Not that I want to make life easier for him, but he'll get what he wants anyway, and I'll then have to find out about it, which will lead to a fight between my sons and me, which I don't want.

"Was it really him?" Chase asks hesitantly.

"What did he say he wanted?" Jack asks before I even get to answer.

"Yes, it was really him," I tell them.

Chase looks excited, Jack suspicious. They don't even bother to hide it. They're hockey players. They wear their hearts on their sleeves…like I used to, once upon a time, back when I could do what I wanted; way back, when I could say what I pleased and feel what I felt and talk to people about it…before I had kids to set an example for.

Before Jack and Chase, I could be afraid, happy, sad, or angry and not have to worry about what other people thought. Except maybe the Ducks, and my parents, I didn't care about any of those other people. But now I have to be strong, for my boys. I can't be sad, it'll upset them. I can't be recklessly angry the way I was back when I was a freshman in Eden Hall. It's not that I mind doing that for them, it's more that I wish sometimes I didn't have to because they didn't need me too. I guess it's the same thing. I guess I'm not a great mother.

"What did he say he wanted?" Jack repeats his question.

"Straight to final jeopardy, huh?" I ask Jack.

"Oh, sorry," Jack mumbles.

"Don't be," I tell him. "He wants…he wanted to know if…he's…you and Chase…"

"Mom, take a deep breath, think of what you're going to say, then spit it out, because you sound schizophrenic right now," Jack says.

"Thanks, Jack, thanks," I roll my eyes.

"Cut it out, Jack. Come on Mom, what'd he say?" Chase looks so eager about this. I guess they've missed having a father more than I thought.

"He said he's in town, and that he'd like to see us all one day, whenever we wanted." There, I've said it…come what may.

"And are we going?" Chase asks, still looking excited.

"I don't know, I told him we'd talk about it, sleep on it, and he's supposed to call back tomorrow…" I look at the phone, half hoping he calls and half hoping he doesn't.

"Well, Mom, are we?" Jack still looks suspicious, and there's a hint of hurt betrayal in his voice. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Chase has missed having a father. Maybe Jack hasn't forgiven Portman for leaving. I know I haven't.

"It's up to you two," I decide. If they want to see their father, and face him, they've got every right to. "If you two want us to go see him, well then, we will."

"I want to go," Chase says immediately, his voice quivering with excitement.

"So do I," Jack says. But Jack's voice is different than Chase's. Jack sounds like he's skeptical, like he wants to see if this is for real. I wonder if he's angry, or furious, even, like I am? Maybe I should ask him? No. I'll let him sleep on it, like I'm going to.

"When do you guys have a free afternoon?" I ask them. I'll clear my schedule, take off from work, I don't care. But the boys might not want to screw up their hockey schedule.

"Any time that's good for you, Mom," Chase says.

"Ditto," says Jack.

I don't think we have anything to do Saturday. "How about Saturday?" I ask them.

"Any time before 4:00, because we have a game," Jack says, and Chase gives him a look, but nods in agreement.

"Fair enough. Why don't you guys get to sleep? Tomorrow's Friday, and you've got school," I remind them, and both of them groan. Wow, that is such typical teenage behavior.

"Do we have to?" Chase whines

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" It was Jack's turn to try to get me to change my mind.

"Positive."

Both of them groan again, but chorus 'goodnight, Mom' as they leave the room.

I think I'm going to call it quits myself. It's only 10:30, but I'm tired. These past few hours have drained me, especially mentally. I feel like my brain is tired.

I brush my teeth, put on the pajamas Fulton had given me for my last birthday, and crawl into bed. I have this habit of sleeping on top of the sheet, and under just the comforter. It's weird, really, and I don't know why I do it. I just always remember doing it. Portman tried to get me to switch to going under the sheet when we were married, and I did for a while, but when he left, I stopped doing that, and went back to sleeping on top of the sheet. Old habits die hard.

Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe I ought to give Fulton a call. Maybe he'd like to come too. After all, Portman was his best friend. I know Fulton misses him, even after all these years. He's too proud to admit it, but he's missed Portman since the second he found out Portman was gone. I guess old habits aren't the only things that die hard. I guess old friendships do as well.

That settles it: Fulton's coming. I'm bringing him. He's stuck by me all these years, and he's got as much a right to confront Portman as my family and I do. Portman was Fulton's best friend. It must have killed Fulton when Portman left.

I'm drifting off to sleep, still in some emotional turmoil over how I'm not sure if I really want to do this, when Portman's parting words come back to me. My eyes shoot open, and I sit bolt upright, seeing nothing but the inky blackness, and hearing those words again. I'd heard them before, but they didn't register until just now.

'Goodnight Julie. I love you.'

Say what?