I knew that Willow believed that the football game today would help to wipe the past from my mind because, again, I really had fun at them. We had gone to the last two that the Junior Woodsmen played at home. It had been freezing cold and the wind that howled around the barren field was very unpleasant, but watching Everett had been great. Afterwards, we had walked out on the forty-yard line to talk to him with the friends and family of some of the other players. It had felt kind of special, like we were a little important.
But the best part really had been seeing him do so well. He had practically thrown his arm off, and if the receivers had been maybe a little more adept at catching the ball or if it hadn’t been quite so cold, he would have done even better. As it was, he was being called the best quarterback in their league, at least by the one guy whose article I’d read when I’d searched for “Everett Ford” and “best quarterback in the league.” So someone agreed with my opinion.
I’d been reading a lot about him, and not just football statistics and percentages. I’d also looked up Eris and I’d found several pictures taken while she’d been pregnant. She hardly shown at all but in every one, she’d worn a bra or bikini top and had designs drawn on the slight curve of her belly, like concentric circles or sometimes arrows. There were tons of posts from after her son’s birth, too, in many different locations. She’d held hima little away from her body or walked next to a stroller that looked nicer than my car.
There had been a woman in the background in all of those, and I had enlarged them to study her more carefully. She either hovered near the baby or pushed his stroller while Eris posed, and I bet that she was the nanny who took care of him. Everett had told me that she’d raised him from the beginning and that she was still with him now, which I counted as a very good thing for that little boy.
The dryer finally stopped and I quickly gathered our clothes, folding and then jamming them into the laundry bag. I was supposed to meet Boyd and Willow at the game, and I wanted to join them in the parking lot before they tried to walk to the bleachers. I was pretty sure that she would need help and I was also sure that he wouldn’t be the one who would give it to her. After all, he had ignored her five years before when she’d needed him…but people could grow and mature.
Maybe.
I rushed to the Woodsmen practice facility and when I made the final turn into the parking lot for the field, I slid on the tires that were a little too smooth for winter driving. But despite Willow’s texts telling me to hurry, she and Boyd weren’t there yet and not many other people were, either. The Junior Woodsmen had won the past two home games because of their amazing quarterback, but those had been just as poorly attended as this one promised to be. I waited and waited, and finally the car that I recognized as Boyd’s pulled in. I knew it was his because I’d spied on themthrough the motel window, and yes, we were still living at the motel. I continued to work on that.
I watched now as my sister tried to get out of the car as quickly and easily as she used to, before she got hurt. “Hey,” she called, and Boyd got out, too. He held up his hand and he didn’t smile or speak to greet me, because he must have known how I felt about him. Everyone should have felt that way about him, although he’d been accepted back into their friend group and had moved on with his life like nothing had happened.
I had to imitate that attitude now. I had to act as if I didn’t remember the past because otherwise, I might have tried to push him off the bleachers. So I waved back and, while there was no way that I could force myself to smile at him, I tried not to glare and frown. Willow was effervescent, telling me how they’d gone to breakfast together at a new restaurant where she’d never eaten before—obviously she hadn’t, since she had generally refused to leave the house unless I’d forced her. But I didn’t say that. I only nodded and remarked that it sounded good, and internally I hoped that he had treated. He owed her breakfast, at the very least.
I realized that my sister was doing her best to hide her difficulties with mobility from him, like she was trying to walk fast and not limp at all, and she wasn’t using her cane. It was actually dangerous for her to behave this way and I fumed as I purposefully slowed my own steps to a speed that was more manageable for her. Boyd didn’t mention it, although he must have noticed, and I let my sister talk instead of trying to engage him in conversation during the long journey to the field. I’dbeen managing to eke out a little time to go to the student gym at the college, and maybe I was already getting results. I was able to help her up the steps in the bleachers without much trouble, but my anger also could have fueled me.
Because they’d arrived so late, we’d missed the players’ warm-up which I’d wanted to watch. I had tried to see it from my car, standing on the balding tire so that I had a better view, but the field was just too far away. I mentioned that to my sister, who shrugged.
“You could have gone ahead. You didn’t need to wait for us,” she said, which was true but there was also another side to it. How would she have walked without me? It wasn’t worth an argument because she never would have admitted that she’d needed to hold my arm or that she should have used her cane. Instead, I watched the referees and wrapped up in one of the blankets I had brought. After a minute, my sister asked if she could have one too, and I gave her the pink one because it did look nice with her blonde hair.
We sat in silence until finally, the Junior Woodsmen ran out onto the field. The meager crowd gave them a meager round of applause and cheering, and I clapped loudly. This really was a disgrace! Why weren’t people more excited about the team that had such a great record? They had done it in spite of the wretched field (ruts, frozen dirt, painted lines that had faded into the dead grass) and in spite of having an awful indoor facility (a cold, damp locker room and showers that didn’t always run hot). Everett had told me about some of the problems, not in a complaining way but just stating the facts.Like, this was what he was dealing with at the moment, but he wouldn’t have to when he was back to being a real Woodsmen. He was absolutely dedicated to that idea.
When I spotted him now, I clapped hard and started to stand up but my sister pulled on my coat to make me stay where I was.
“You don’t want to show too much,” she muttered.
Show? Show what? My appreciation for a football team that was doing a great job despite terrible conditions? But Everett had walked to the fifty-yard line and I was more interested in that than in arguing. I clapped more when the referee signaled that the Junior Woodsmen had won the coin toss and the poor guy who did the announcing (by himself) said that they had opted to defer. It meant our offense wouldn’t be on the field right away, so my interest wasn’t as engaged by the football action. I unobtrusively watched Boyd and my sister as they whispered to each other, and Willow giggled a lot. He noticed my unobtrusive gaze and met my eyes before clearing his throat and looking away.
“We were talking about the summer,” my sister mentioned. That felt very far away from this moment, as the icy wind cut into us. “Boyd’s dad said that we can take out their boat. Won’t that be fun?”
Willow on a boat? It was a very bad idea. “You haven’t been swimming in a long time,” I mentioned.
“Why would you say that?” she hissed, instantly furious.
“We would be careful,” Boyd mentioned.
I stared at him. “Would you? Would you be really careful about my sister?”
“Quit it, Zoey!” she told me loudly, and one of the few fans seated near us turned around to see what was happening.
Summer was months away and I didn’t have to worry about it quite yet. Most likely, he would have broken her heart again by the time that it warmed up enough to think about boats and swimming. “Ok, sorry,” I told her.
We returned to silence as the opposing team, the Devil Cubs, tried to get a first down.
Boyd cleared his throat again. “I didn’t know that you guys were football fans until…”
Until he’d seen us here, when he’d been with his girlfriend? I didn’t say it and my sister jumped in with a remark about how she’d always loved sports, which was a crock. I remained quiet until he spoke to me directly. “Willow told me that you’re trying to be a teacher,” he mentioned.
“I will be one, in the fall.” As the end of the school year got closer, more people would announce their retirements and job changes, meaning that I’d have a better idea about openings. I had also been talking to my former cooperating teacher, Sarah Pauker at Mitigomin Elementary, and she was keeping her eyes peeled for me. So was Anita at my current school, and she knew everything. “I’ll find a position,” I announced. I couldn’t move somewhere else to look for a job, even if I’d wanted to leave the area. Willow was here and…
Willow was giggling and kissing Boyd, because he’d helpfully adjusted the blanket around her. How, in the period of a few weeks, had she managed to forget the damage he’d done? I seethed but the defense had come up with a stop, and the Junior Woodsmen offense was running out on the field.
“Go! Go, Everett!” I urged him. Due to my many years of playing low brass instruments, I had great breath control and I could yell very loudly. My sister nudged me again, signaling that I should quiet down. I limited myself to clapping as forcefully as I could, slapping my mittens together like a seal. They steadily gained yards and marched down the dry, yellow grass, getting closer and closer to the end zone until—
“That’s targeting,” Boyd announced confidently, as if he’d ever known anything about sports or anything else. But I hardly heard him because I was watching the field. Everett had taken a terrible hit and now he was just lying there, unmoving.
