Cliff nods and smiles and says, “You called it before the season even started: Hank Baskett is the man!”
Jake leaves first because he and Caitlin have that hotel New Year’s Eve party to attend, so we all make fun of him and call him whipped—but even though he is leaving us for his woman, I give him a hug and thank him again for staying, getting me a season ticket, and paying for the play-off tickets too, which are pretty expensive. And I know Jake has forgiven me for making him miss the second Dallas game, because he hugs me back and says, “No problem, brother. I love you. Always. You know that.”
After Jake leaves, we drink beers for another half hour or so, but eventually many of the guys admit they too have New Year’s Eve plans with their wives, and I take the Asian Invasion bus home to New Jersey.
The Eagles have won the last five games and the NFC East, so there’s no stopping Ashwini from blowing the Asian Invasion bus horn when he pulls up to my parents’ house, and when he does, the chant blares loudly—“E!-A!-G!-L!-E!-S! EAGLES!”—which brings my mother to the door.
Standing on the front step, Mom and I wave as the green bus pulls away.
We eat a late New Year’s Eve dinner together as a family, but even after another Eagles win and with Super Bowl hopes alive, my father doesn’t say much, and he heads for his study before Mom finishes her meal, probably so he can read historical fiction.
Just before the ball drops on Dad’s huge flat-screen television, Mom asks me if I want to go outside and bang pots and pans like we used to do when I was a kid. I tell Mom I don’t really want to bang pots and pans, especially since I am tired from spending the day outside in the cold, so from the couch, we watch people celebrating in Times Square.
Two thousand and six becomes 2007.
“It’s going to be a good year for us,” Mom says, and then forces a smile.
I smile back at Mom, not because I think it is going to be a good year, but because my father went to bed an hour ago, Nikki never came back, there’s not even the slightest inclination to suggest that 2007 is going to be a good year for either Mom or me, and yet Mom is still trying to find that silver lining she taught me about so long ago. She is still holding on to hope. “It’s going to be a good year,” I say.
When Mom falls asleep on the couch, I turn off the television and watch her breathe. She still looks pretty, and seeing her resting so peacefully makes me angry at my dad, even though I know he can’t change who he is, but I wish that he would at least try to appreciate Mom more and spend some quality time with her, especially since he doesn’t even have the Eagles to be grumpy about anymore, because the season is already a success regardless of what happens in the play-offs, especially after making it this far without McNabb. And yet I know my father is not likely to change, because I have known him for thirty-five years, and he has always been the same man.
Mom tucks her knees and elbows in close to her body and begins to shiver, so I push myself up, grab my crutches, and crutch my way over to the closet. I pull a blanket from the bottom of the closet, crutch my way over to Mom, and cover her—but she continues to shiver. Back at the closet, I see a heavier blanket on the top shelf, so I reach up and pull it down. It falls on top of my head just after I hear a little crash. I look down, and by my feet is a videocassette in a white plastic case that has two ringing bells on the cover.
I crutch my way over to my mother and cover her with the heavier blanket.
It is hard to pick up the cassette with my cast preventing me from squatting—I actually have to sit down on the floor to pick it up. After sliding over to the TV, I slip the cassette into the VCR. I look over my shoulder, checking to make sure that Mom is sleeping soundly, and then turn down the volume before I hit PLAY.
The video is not completely rewound, and the part that pops up on-screen is the beginning of the reception dinner. Our guests are seated in the banquet room of the Glenmont Country Club, which is near a golf course in a swanky little town just outside Baltimore. The camera is focused on the entrance doorway, but you can see the dance floor and the band too. Using the microphone, the lead singer says, “Let’s introduce the wedding party Philly style,” at which point the horn section of the band begins playing the opening notes of “Gonna Fly Now!” The guitarist and bassist and drummer soon begin playing, and even though it doesn’t sound exactly like Rocky’s theme song, it’s close enough to get the job done.
“Parents of the groom, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Peoples!”
Our guests clap politely as my mom and dad cross the dance floor arm in arm, and the painful expression on my father’s face suggests that this was one of the worst experiences of his life—being announced at my wedding.