A knock came at the door.
Leo stood outside.
Chris hesitated, then got up.
“How’s your son?” he asked.
Leo seemed surprised.
“Home. Driving his mother crazy.”
Chris smiled. “Good.”
That was all.
Just one piece of good news Chris finally allowed himself to hear.
“How’s your son?”
A few minutes later, I looked toward Ethan.
“You ready to go home, Captain?”
He glanced through the glass toward the field.
I caught myself.
“What do you want?”
Ethan considered it.
“Ten more minutes.”
Chris nodded. “Ten.”
We returned to our seats.
No cameras followed us.
“Ten more minutes.”
No players came over.
Nobody handed Ethan a signed football.
The game simply continued.
Exactly what he’d wanted.
Chris complained about a terrible play.
Ethan told him he had no idea what he was talking about.
Then a referee threw a flag.
“Oh, COME ON!” I shouted.
The game simply continued.
Ethan burst out laughing.
“Mom, you don’t even know what happened!”
“I know injustice when I see it.”
My hand automatically reached for my phone.
I stopped.
Ethan noticed.
“You’re not taking one?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I looked at him. “I’m watching.”
“You’re not taking one?”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded as though that answer made perfect sense.
Late in the fourth quarter, our team scored.
The stadium exploded.
Chris jumped up.
Ethan grabbed his father’s arm with one hand and mine with the other, laughing so hard he could barely shout.
Ethan grabbed his father’s arm with one hand and mine with the other,.
The tabletop football game slid sideways on his lap.
One tiny plastic player popped loose and landed beneath my seat.
I saw it.
For once, I didn’t immediately bend down to rescue it.
Ethan was laughing.
Chris was yelling.
I was yelling too.
And the game was still happening.
For once, I didn’t immediately bend down to rescue it.
Only when the cheering finally softened did Ethan glance down.
“Mom! My player!”
I reached beneath the seat and handed it back.
Ethan snapped it into place.
“Everybody plays,” he said.
Then my Captain turned toward the field again.
So did we.
“Mom! My player!”
