Daylight, page 22
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alex’s Point of View
“Yo, Bradford! Where’s this hutch going?” Lonzo shouts from inside the U-Haul.
“Elle! The hutch?” I shout, turning my head in different directions trying to see if she’s out here.
Moving day has been a breeze. A few of the guys came over early this morning and helped us load the U-Haul with the big furniture, while Elle and Quinn loaded up our car and Quinn’s rental car with the boxes of smaller stuff. It took them two trips, and it’ll take the U-Haul one more trip after lunch.
Jess Cannon and Michelle Lyko, the girlfriend of an offensive lineman who’s been helping us move, are bringing out lunch for everyone. It’s been awesome these last couple of weeks, watching how they’ve taken Elle under their wing.
“The dining room!” She exclaims from somewhere behind me.
With tons of people milling about the house, moving boxes in and out, and lasting memories being made, I take a moment to stand back and soak in the moment. Watching as some of my closest friends help us move into the home we’ll lay roots in over the next several years pulls at my heartstrings in a way I’ve never felt.
Another hour or two goes by before Jess and Michelle bring in big containers of food. They cooked up a bunch of meat and toppings for tacos, something quick and easy that everyone likes. We take a break for lunch, and I find Elle sitting away from the chaos in the backyard. Our backyard is big, quiet. It’s secluded from the other neighbors on our street, and we have a direct shot to the lake. It’s so serene and so surreal to look out over what’s ours now.
“You okay?” I ask, plopping down next to her.
“I’m good. Just tired. Maybe overwhelmed,” S]she laughs softly, leaning her weight into my shoulder.
“With the move?” I ask, throwing an arm around her.
She nods, closing her eyes. “I just wanted a few minutes of quiet.”
“I get it.” I sigh, pulling her close against me.
We sit there, staring out at the empty backyard. Someday, not far from now…maybe in just a few years, I could imagine kids out here, tossing a football, swinging on a swing set that isn’t yet built. My heart swells at the thought.
“Shall we finish up?” She asks, clasping my hand with hers.
“Let’s do it, babe,” I smile, pulling her up with me.
There’s a chill in the November air, but snow hasn’t started falling yet. For us, it’s nothing we can’t handle. We both grew up here, the bitter winters are something we are used to. My mind falls back to the day we first met, back in that sports marketing class.
So much has changed since then, we were just kids. We had no clue what the world was going to throw at us as we got older. But, we got through it, together. I had no clue that the girl who I silently, painfully pined over for years would be my fiancée. It is something that is hard to wrap my mind around.
“I love you,” I whisper as we round the corner to the garage, placing a kiss atop her head.
She smiles up at me, shooing me toward my friends as she goes back toward the house. Jess and Michelle decide to stick around and help Quinn and Elle with the boxes while the guys and I go back to the apartment one last time to load up the U-Haul. I think we should be able to do it in just one trip, but I guess we’ll know for sure after a thirty-minute ride back into town.
I drive the truck and Mike takes passenger, while the rest pile into someone else’s car to follow behind us. “When are you thinking about a wedding?” Mike asks out of the blue.
I laugh. “Phew… we haven’t picked a date yet. Offseason, definitely. Haven’t gotten much farther than that, given everything,” I say. “Countin’ down the days?”
“You two just need a win, bro,” he jokes
“You’re telling me,” I shake my head, letting a chuckle escape my lips. “I think the move is a win. A big one. I never loved my place in the city, when Elle moved in it felt like less a house and more a home. But I never loved it,” I shrug. “This house feels like one we can lay roots down in, you feel me?”
“I do,” he nods. “You have what… two years left on your contract?”
“Nah, renegotiations started with my agent a few weeks ago. Obviously nothing will be made official until the post-season, but my contract extension has been approved. It’s a five year extension. This is embargoed, though… keep it in here until you hear it from someone who isn’t me. You know how those guys in the press office love to talk.”
“Damn, Alexander! Good for you!” He exclaims. I bark out a laugh.
“You’re something else,” I shake my head.
“I want you to hear this from me…” He shakes his head. “My contract is up at the end of the season, too. It’s still early, but I’ve been talking with some guys out of Houston. It’s mostly my agent, but he’s been really gunning for more money out of Houston, and if they agree… it doesn’t sound like Chicago is interested in extending my contract.”
“Mike, that’s awesome,” I beam. “If that’s what you want?”
He nods. “I think so. I need to get away from here. Everything is a constant reminder of Sabrina. I’ve got a cousin that lives out there. I love this city and this team, but it’s so damn painful.”
“I get it, I do,” I nod. “I wish you the best in whatever may happen.”
“Thanks, man,” he nods back in return. “Look at us, making these adult decisions, doing what’s best for us. I mean shit, you’ve bought a house. That’s halfway to a family.” He shakes his head.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” I nod. “That’s kinda what I’m worried about, you know. Elle and I have been talking about kids, at first I wasn’t sure that I wanted them. I had never really given it any thought. That’s changed since then, but now I’m scared that we’ll have established something good here just to get told Chicago won’t extend my contract in five years.”
“Five years is a long way away. Who knows where you’ll be, where the team will be? I wouldn’t sweat it. Just live in the now, buddy. You two deserve it,” he tells me.
I nod solemnly as we turn down the street of our former house. We have a dining room set, some desks, and other random furniture from my storage unit to load up before we head out. We took the worst of it this morning; bed frames, the sectional, and the big ass coffee table, among other things. We’ll easily be able to get all of this into the U-Haul without needing a third trip.
Mike and Lonzo bring the last desk from the basement up, and we are officially done. I tell them to go secure everything, that I’ll be out in just a minute. I FaceTime Elle and walk her through the bare house, and as bittersweet as it is, we are both happy to see this place go.
A lot of good came from this place, but so did a lot of evil.
I walk the key down to the mail room, sticking it into my mailbox as instructed, and text our landlord saying we are officially, completely moved out. I make Mike drive the U-Haul out to the new place. I’m overcome with a lot of weird emotions as he pulls out of the parking lot of my former apartment complex. “Bro, you need a beer when we get back.”
“We haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. There’s nothing at the house except for the Oreos and string cheese we brought from here last night,” I explain, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Lonzo brought beer,” Mike nods. “He was waiting for an appropriate time of day to bring it out.”
“Of course,” I shake my head, laughing, biting back the tears.
I stare out the window, letting the tears fade away. I’m so overwhelmingly happy. It’s taken me a long time to ever allow myself to feel so genuinely, unabashedly happy.
As we travel down Lake Shore Drive, I’m mesmerized by the sunset that’s forming over Lake Michigan.
Elle has always lived up to her nickname, even when it felt like the sun wasn’t shining and storm clouds were permanently rolling in.
Sunshine personified. That’s Elle.
Seeing the vibrant pinks and yellows and oranges paint the sky will always remind me of her.
Afterword
I never thought that this book, in particular, would have made it to a point where it could be published. Where long, sappy author’s notes are typically my specialty, I’m having trouble finding the words to express my gratitude for everyone involved in pushing me to publish Daylight and helping me get it into your hands now. With this one, it truly took a village.
My most heartfelt thanks go out to Megan Buyze, as this book would not exist without her. She is integral to my writing process, so many of my ideas get bounced off of her and I truly do not know what Daylight would look like without her.
This book started as an idea shared in a text exchange between the two of us, as most of my works do. It started as (mostly) a joke, but after I wrote the first chapter I knew I had to keep going. There was something special about Elle and Alex.
She also took the time to edit the final draft of Daylight, and I know that was no small feat. No one else would answer seventeen different texts all asking different things, but really they are all asking the same thing (Do you like this name? But what about this one? Wait, go back to the first one. Sorry- never mind. Wait! Go back!) while responding to each one individually the way she does. She reads everything I write before anyone else does, and has since the day I took up writing creatively in the 6th grade. She’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I will forever be indebted for that. This would not have been possible without her help and constant support.
This past spring, my mom, Jenny, and her good friend Angie Hunt made the very compelling argument that I needed to do something with this book. It had been sitting on my computer taking up space, and they were right. We were taking a train to Chicago to see a play and the whole ride there they spent the journey brainstorming ideas on how I could publish and roll out this book. That day was the first time I started seriously thinking about publishing Daylight. We got home very late that night, but I stayed up to do research on self-publishing.
A few months before that train ride to Chicago, I was sitting in the salon chair with my incredible hairdresser, Nicole Brauer. She also writes creatively, and the two of us talk about our projects often. She’s the first person in my life who has made me question my writing and try to challenge myself in my work. While I was incredibly proud of the first draft of Daylight, there was something she said to me at a hair appointment once that I’ll never forget— she encouraged me to challenge myself with my characters. She asked me what kind of characters I write, and if I ever stray away from the beaten path. I told her no, and she told me that I should start challenging myself. Her saying that made me change how I viewed everything. It was constantly in the back of my mind when I was editing and rewriting the first draft of Daylight, and without her encouragement, Daylight would not be the book it is now.
To my friends who dealt with me throughout the process of trying to write the bulk of this book during our senior year of high school— thank you for always supporting me. Joanna, McKenna, Mackenzie, Callie, Hannah, and Bella; whether it was letting me bounce ideas off of you, sending you ten-minute long video rants about some plot point I couldn’t figure out even though you had no idea what I was talking about, or that time we celebrated a milestone with an ice cream cake, you guys have always been there to support me.
To my family, thank you for letting me dominate the TV on Sundays (and Thursday nights and Monday nights and the occasional Saturday) from September to February. It can get pretty dicey. Mark, thank you for lending me your computer monitor when I needed two screens during editing. I didn’t forget!
Peggy, thank you for always believing in me.
From middle school through high school, my favorite teachers were always the English teachers. I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without them. For that, I extend my most sincere thanks.
Finally, to my readers that have been there since the beginning. Not many people can say that they had as many beta readers as I did, but it’s pretty damn cool that I can. I wouldn’t be here without you all. Every single one of you has had a part in getting Daylight to where it is now and I will never take that for granted.
About the Author
Grace Marshall is a writer from Evansville, Wisconsin. Daylight is her debut novel, but she’s been putting the pen to paper for many years. She started writing in 6th grade, finding it to be her favorite hobby. Daylight is being published just shy of her twentieth birthday, and it’s been her dream for years to be a published author before she turned twenty-one. When she isn’t writing, you can find her working at a local Community Center, cuddled up with any one of her 3 dogs, or on the road to the next concert.
You can connect with me on:
https://www.gracemarshallwrites.com
https://www.instagram.com/graceiswriting
Grace Marshall, Daylight
