“I’m glad you called,” I murmured, placing my hand to my chest.
He was quiet. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. Hearing from you helps. You make everything better.”
“You makemebetter.” He paused. “I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you.”
“Me, too. Now get some rest because it’s late and tomorrow is a big day.”
He let out a sleepy chuckle. “Okay.”
“And, Lamar?”
“Yeah?”
“Just focus on how talented you are. You’re excellent. Don’t worry about perfection. Be yourself. Be excellent. Playyourgame tomorrow.”
He was quiet for a second. “I like that. I got you. Good night, Jazz.”
“Good night.”
Lamar was a balm for my soul. I didn’t forget my pain existed, but he made me momentarily forget how bad it hurt.
Momentarily.
I knew Aunt Addy wasn’t getting better. But when I woke up Sunday morning and went to her room, she smiled at me. She was weak and she didn’t say anything, but she smiled. Monica hadn’t noted any change in her condition. We all knew what was happening, but we didn’t know when it would happen. I was ready to just call in to work and stay in Chance. But I knew I needed to save my bereavement days for when it was time. So, instead, I packed my stuff and planned to leave after the game.
Dad and I gathered in Aunt Addy’s room so the three of us could watch the game like we had when I was a child. After Dad mentioned I looked extra excited for kickoff, I felt compelled to text Lamar.
Jazmyn Payne:To see you live out your dream is inspiring and beautiful. You are inspiring and beautiful. You don’t have to be anything but you out there and it’s going to be enough. Play your game.
“When was the last time you went to a Monarchs game, Jazmyn?” Dad asked.
“It’s been a while. Maybe five or six years ago,” I answered, putting my phone down.
“Addison and I were supposed to go a couple years back. It’s so hard to drive all that way and then be at work on Monday.” He turned to his sister. “Ain’t that right?”
She looked at him and gave a small nod.
“Aunt Addy said something about wanting to go to a Monarchs game this summer.”
She closed her eyes and smiled.
I stared at her for a minute, waiting to see if she was awake or not. I glanced at my father, and he was doing the same thing. When our eyes met, we shared a forlorn look. The football commentator announced kickoff, Aunt Addy’s eyes opened, and we all shifted our attention to the TV.
Monarchs lost the coin toss, so their defense was up first against the Illinois Iguanas.
“Defense is looking good this year,” my dad commented. “Tough and aggressive like they were ten years ago. Watch the new kid. Ninety.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah, Anderson is really good.”
As if on cue, for the first play of the game, the Monarchs’ defense executed an all-out blitz. Lamar strip sacked the quarterback, and the middle linebacker, Reed, recovered the ball.
“Monarchs’ ball!” Dad cheered.
Right after the play, Aunt Addy reached over and grabbed my arm. I looked at her, surprised. At first, I assumed it was excitement from the turnover. But the way she looked at me, I knew she knew it was Lamar who sacked the quarterback.
“Yeah, that was him,” I told her. “He’s making a name for himself in the league with that play right there.”
