Happy Birthday: A Novel

“God knows. They think it makes more sense. It’s a bigger job attached to the network there. I’d be commentating more stuff, not just football. I’m happy with what I’m doing, and I guess I should be flattered. It’s more money, more prestige.” He hesitated then. “But I don’t want to leave you. I love what we have, and I love you. Long-distance relationships are hard and most of the time they don’t work. I don’t want to be commuting at my age. And I don’t want to live in Miami.” He looked desperately unhappy.

“Did you turn it down?” Valerie asked quietly, hoping that he had. She had no right to influence him, or interfere with his career, and she wouldn’t, but she knew that it would not be good for them if he moved. And she couldn’t move with him, she wasn’t about to leave her show for him. Nor did she expect him to retire from broadcasting for her, or negatively impact his job. She couldn’t do that to him. This was a big and very unhappy news flash for them, and she didn’t see how he could refuse it, or why he would, even if he didn’t love Miami.

“I told them I’d think about it,” he answered. “And I will. I guess our ‘what if’ games in Paris about what would happen if one of us had a job opportunity that required giving up the other, or hurting them, weren’t so imaginary after all. I guess this happens. They made it very clear that they expect me to do this. I can say no, but they won’t thank me for it. Valerie,” he said slowly, “how do you feel about it? What would you do?” He really wanted her input and guidance to help him make the decision.

“Those are two separate questions,” she said quietly. “How do I feel about it? Sad. I don’t want you to move away. I love our life together. Maybe it was too easy and we were too lucky for it to last. Maybe life just isn’t that simple. What would I do? Honestly, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to screw up my career, but I wouldn’t want to leave you either. I’m glad I don’t have to make that choice. And I don’t love Miami either. It’s fun for a weekend, but I wouldn’t want to live there. But you have to go where the job takes you, and where the big bucks are for you, and the important promotions. You’re too young to retire.” And she felt that she was too. “Just know that whatever you do, I’ll understand and we’ll make the best of it. I could come to Miami on Friday nights, and take an early flight back on Monday. Others do it. Politicians do it all the time, commuting from Washington, D.C., to their home states in California or the West. CEOs do it to work in one city and join their families in another. It’s not easy, but if we want to, we can do it.” She meant it, and he looked profoundly touched as she said it. “Just do what’s right for you. We’ll figure it out for us later.” But she was worried that living in Miami, he’d go back to the bimbos and young girls. He would be alone a lot of the time, and maybe eventually the old temptations would reclaim him. She felt very insecure, but she didn’t share that with him. She thought it would be unfair to do so. He had enough pressure on him already from the network. He had made that clear. They weren’t threatening to hurt his career if he didn’t go, but it wouldn’t help it either. No matter who you were, they expected you to go where you were sent. Even a big star like him. He felt it like a physical blow. Everything had been going so smoothly for them, and now this.

They walked slowly back to his apartment, and didn’t speak. They both had a lot on their minds. He kept to himself for most of the weekend, and she offered to go home, but he said he didn’t want her to. He wanted her with him, but she felt as though she’d already lost him. This time the “what if” game was real.

They didn’t make love that night, which was rare for them. They just lay in bed and held each other. He looked lonely and scared. He talked to his agent about it on Sunday, and his attorney. His agent said it was up to him, and didn’t think they’d penalize him if he didn’t do it, and his attorney advised him to move to Miami. In the end, the choice was his.

Valerie went to meet April on Sunday afternoon, at the restaurant. She was working there alone, cleaning things up, and still throwing things away. She stopped for a few minutes to talk to her mother, mostly about the wedding. It was a week away, and she was excited, although she said that Mike seemed very stressed about the baby again. It was becoming very real, particularly with all the baby furniture in the apartment, and Ellen had dropped off the bathtub and the stroller.

“He’d better show up at the wedding,” Valerie warned, and April nodded.