We’ve edged out to take the lead and as long as we can keep Detroit out of the end zone and out of field goal range, this game will be over and we can celebrate the win. Chase jogs onto the field and lines up opposite their offensive line. I honestly don’t know how these players do this for a living, their bodies take such a beating, I’d never be able to willingly put myself out there for some massive opponent who is just waiting to throw me to the ground.
The clock keeps ticking down, only fifteen seconds left and Detroit is out of time outs. At this point, I’d assume they have one, maybe two more plays left.
“Alright, let’s get this win. I’m starving and stadium food is no longer cutting it.” My aunt Joanne whispers in my ear with a laugh. I agree, I’m ready for something more substantial, but not before I see these guys leave with a win. Just as the quarterback gets the ball, Chase is somehow unblocked and comes flying around the linemen heading straight for Detroit’s quarterback. I throw my hands on my head and wince as I watch my brother initiate a hit so hard, it’s almost like I felt it in the stands. You can hear a collective “ohhhh” from the crowd as he slams to the ground and the ball comes flying out. One of our guys lands on it and that sends the stadium into a frenzy. The game is over with that play and Tampa has won. Chase runs towards the bench, pumping his fist, grinning and yelling out to his teammates.
Moments like this remind me of watching Chase play when we were younger. He played football in high school and I rarely missed a game. I’ve always loved watching him play and excel at something he so obviously loves and is great at. Seeing him play at this level is something special. It makes my heart sting wishing our dad was here to see it all unfold.
“Do you want to meet Chase back at home or wait for him at the exit over there?” I point to where I went the last time with Mia where the guys all walked out.
“Let’s get back to the apartment, we can start cooking a few things so food is ready when Chase gets home,” Mom says through misty eyes. Even now, she tears up when my brother wins games.
I send a text off to Chase congratulating him and letting him know we’ll have dinner ready when he gets home. It also seems only fair to send a text to number eighty-seven, because after all, it is a holiday.
Happy Thanksgiving, Anderson.
“Well played, son.” My dad slaps his hand on my shoulder as I greet him with a handshake and give my mom a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, pops. Hi, mom.”
“Oh, honey, great game, and on Thanksgiving? How wonderful!” My parents have always been supportive of me playing football, which I’m thankful for. I wasn’t pressured into following in my dad’s footsteps with real estate and they never told me that nothing would come of football or that it’s just a hobby. Aside from all of their other faults when it came to my childhood, my parents did always believe I was good enough for the league.
“You know who we saw the other day, honey? Katie Turner. You know, Estelle and Rob’s daughter? She’s grown up to be such a lovely girl.”
I give my mom a confused look. “Isn’t she pretty young?”
My mom is setting the table as I grab a roll out of the basket and take a bite.
“Well, she just turned twenty-one.”
My dad walks in the room as she says that and lets out a grunt, “Ruby, please.” He looks even more annoyed by her comment than me, but I offer my mom a smile. I know she means well trying to get me married off or something, but I’ve told her plenty of times I’m not interested. And when the time comes, I’m capable of finding someone on my own.
“I’m just catching up with our son, Howard,” she says behind clenched teeth. They must be having an off day today, as they seem overly agitated with each other.
We eat our dinner in mostly awkward silence. It’s interesting how silence with my own parents can feel awkward, yet when it’s with Abby, it somehow feels comfortable. My dad shares a little about what’s going on with the properties he has across the area and mom asks a few questions about the Rec Center. She has decided to help oversee a few things with the art department renovation and rather than argue with her on it, I graciously accept. I’m only getting busier right now anyway, so having her around would actually be helpful.
Peeking at my phone, it’s just after eight p.m. and my body is spent. I get up from the table, but not before grabbing one more dinner roll and peek my head into the kitchen.
“I’m probably going to take off, mom.”
“Oh, really? Already?” I nod at my mom and kiss her cheek and shake my dad’s hand, they both give me encouraging smiles as I head towards the door.
Once I’m home, I change into some shorts and forego the shirt because it’s still fucking eighty degrees here and I’m sweating.
I remember that tomorrow I’m meeting up with Chase, but for the life of me I’m not able to figure out what the hell it’s about. It can’t be about Abby, because that’s not a conversation he would schedule. He wouldn’t wait to lay me out, he would’ve done it already.
I open up my texts and see the one that Abby sent earlier that I haven't replied to yet. It was great seeing her at the game today and I looked over at her every chance I had. It was too easy getting distracted by her jumping up and down and yelling at the refs for doing a shit job on some of the calls. She definitely made me laugh a few times as I watched her.
When I should have been watching my teammates help us win, my focus kept landing on her. I even missed the beginning of Chase’s big play because it was mesmerizing watching her. She looked nervous, and the only reason I even turned towards the field was because of her concerned expression.
I’m not used to this. I haven’t had someone in the stands for me since college and even though Abby would’ve been there regardless, it still felt like she wanted to be there rooting for me.
After an hour of sitting outside in the dark and listening to the waves, I text Abby back. She was with her mom today so it felt important to give them some uninterrupted time together.
Happy Thanksgiving. Gobble Gobble.
That was fucking lame, but alright… I guess that’s what we’re going with tonight.
Abby
