Soon, the game starts. We stand and half-heartedly participate in the wave, which zips back and forth across this narrow student section. It’s clear Ellie and I aren’t really into the spirit of the event. I watch the twelve minutes on the clock slowly creeping down. And this is just the first of four quarters. The bleachers are getting rowdy.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Ellie says, stepping away suddenly. “I’ll take the trash.”
“Okay, I’ll be here,” I say, immediately taking a seat as soon as she bounds down the steps.
Yeah, it’s going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ellie
I can’t watchCody play all night.
My ex is here. Right there on the freaking field.
His last name is strewn across the back of his jersey. Fischer, 48. That’s basically the only distinguishing feature I can see of his right now since he’s got his football helmet on. Fischer is common enough, but paired with his freakinglucky number, there’s no doubt in my mind that’s Cody.
I haven’t had enough time to prepare to be in the same space as him again.
I rush down the bleachers and head back to the concourse, where I dump the trash into a garbage bin near the concession stands. I need to clear my head. Jackson’s been kind of out of it tonight. Swaying and staring off into the distance, not seeming to focus on the game, nor as talkative as usual, which might be why he hasn’t noticed how distracted I am.
Cody goes to Powell Heights. He looks at home with his team. They’re all buddy-buddy even though he doesn’t hear a single thing they’re saying. When they come together in the huddle, there’s an interpreter for him. Apparently, Cody’s taught his teammates a few signs as well, but from what I can see, it’s mostly swear words.
What are the odds that his school would be playing Amber? I was shocked when Jackson mentioned the name, but I didn’t think it would affect me this much to see my ex.
My breath catches, and my heart aches. I was so angry I tried to fast-track mourning my breakup. And I might’ve been successful if this hadn’t happened. With Cody right there in person, I remember how easy it used to be to take his hand, to curl up against his chest, to feel his lips press a kiss against my forehead. I knew one day I’d see him again. The Deaf community can be so small it’s almost a given that we’d cross paths at some point. But so soon after we broke up? The miles between us were supposed to be a barrier. He’s here, of all places?
I stand along the wall, checking my phone. For healthy boundaries, I’d muted Cody’s socials ages ago. If I hadn’t, maybe I would’ve gotten more of a heads-up about tonight. His profile has a lot of football photos. Too many, really. Like, it’s basicallyallfootball stuff.
There’s a link to some article about Cody being PHHS’s new Deaf football star. It’s super wordy about how the team has been amazingly accommodating for him, in a real pat-yourself-on-the-back kind of way. Some nice inspiration porn. Cody’s probably lapping all that attention right up. He was popular at Brandview, but at Powell Heights he gets to beunique.
It’s not fair. At his new school, he gets to stand out in a good way. Whereas without the PR that comes with being an athlete, I was just immediately considered a freak at mine.
Someone taps my arm, and I put my phone away immediately. But it’s not Jackson.
Worse.
It’s Cody’s mom.
“Ellie!” the tall woman signs, warm and pleasant as always. She pulls me in for a tight hug, but as she leans back, her eyes are narrowed. With one hand still on my shoulder, she asks, “What are you doing here? For Cody?”
“Cody’s here?” I feign shock. “My new school, A-m-b-e-r, is playing.”
“Oh-I-see,” she signs, clearly relieved I’m not stalking her son. Which I’m not. In person, at least. I don’t think she caught a glimpse of my screen. “I need to get back, but it’s such a great surprise to see you. Come say hi after the game. I’m sure Cody would love to say hello, too.”
“Great to see you!” I sign, not committing to anything else, but she’s already rushing off. It’s strange having such a brief interaction with someone I considered a mother for so many years.
It’s only the start of the second quarter, but the crowds on Amber’s side have begun to clear. Their team is down bya lot, and there’s parties to be had at the hotel.
Jackson taps my arm. “Should we head out?” he asks, his eyes drooping and enthusiasm lacking.
But I want to stay to the end and see if I can wave for Cody’s attention. I would feel weird leaving without at least signing a quick hello, especially with his mom knowing I’m at the game. I’m not avoiding him or anything, though I guess I don’t need to seek him out, either. What’s the right move?
“Let’s just wait,” I tell Jackson. “I don’t really feel like going to a party yet. We can sit for the rest of the game, though.”
Grateful to rest again, Jackson immediately plops down on the bench and doesn’t ask any questions about why I want to stay. Why is he so tired after napping the entire way here on the bus? Will he still want to go to any of the hotel parties?
Eventually, the game ends, and PHHS celebrates their victory. Cody takes off his helmet, revealing that he’s grown his hair out several inches. I always told him how good that would look, but he never took my advice until now. Figures.
