25. Ryan

25

Ryan

I t’s playoff day. I arrive early to the field to get reps in before the rest show up. I left Violet’s apartment about an hour ago, leaving a jersey for her on her bed. There’s no way she’s wearing some other idiot’s jersey instead of mine tonight. She’s mine, and it’s about time everyone in the stadium knows it. Her eyes sparkled, and she did a little dance when she spotted it. She flew to her closet and threw it on. Seeing her in those itty bitty shorts with my name on her back filled my head with bad intentions.

God, I love her.

Drifting in and out of thought, I run my body ragged on the workout machines to keep my head focused on the present moment instead of my potential downfall. Logan texted me this morning to confirm my picks for the day, and tonight, I should have a good chunk of change in my account to put towards my mom’s medical bills. We’re three hours away from start time, and I’m buzzing with nervous energy. I put my head down and grind through my workout. My muscles scream at the intense pace, with sweat dripping down every inch of my skin. I usually don’t push this hard on game days, but I need it mentally today. Once I’m done, we’re two hours out from game time, so I decide to put my earphones in and disassociate.

Some of my teammates make their way into the workout room and start gearing up for game time. Hartley runs in a minute before report time, sliding next to me on the bench in front of my locker.

“You ready, man?” he asks with a fist bump. Hartley doesn’t show game-day jitters. He’s always ready to take the field.

“Yeah. We’ve got it.”

“We’re the one-two punch. If it’s not you, it's me. We’ve got to find ways to stay open,” he explains. Gameday Hartley is completely different from weekend Hartley. His personality intensifies, and he’s all in on the game plan.

Coach gives us our game-time speech, and Mason hypes us up. “This is our time boys. Who are we?”

“Vipers!” we chant.

“I can't hear you. I said who are we?” Mason crouches in the middle of the locker room huddle. We throw our hands in a pile and scream, “One, two, three, Vipers!”

Throwing our helmets on, we run onto the field for pre-game warm-ups to All We Do is Win by DJ Khaled. The crowd erupts in a deafening scream, but the only person I care about spotting is Violet. My eyes trail to her usual seat, but I stop dead in my tracks when I notice who’s next to her. I abandon my team on the way to the bench in an all-out sprint to the bleacher railing. Sporting the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, Violet scoots carefully past the fans in her row, never breaking eye contact.

“Are you serious, Vi? How’d you pull this off?” I’m choked up and overwhelmed with emotion. I can’t believe my eyes because my mom is sitting alongside Violet at my first playoff game of the season.

“Surprise!” She throws her hands up and giggles, pointing to my mom, who is only three rows back. Mom looks amazing in a Springs U jersey and jeans. The sight of her at the game reminds me of old times–when she wasn’t too sick to come to every game.

“Your mom and I have been texting for a week coordinating this. Don’t worry. We have all of her emergency meds, just in case. I knew it would be important to you to have her here.” She beams with excitement and pride.

I’ve never had anyone show up for me the way Violet does. She makes me feel a little less alone in this world, and I never want to let that go. Without a word, Violet shimmies back through the aisle in an attempt to escort my mom closer. She places her hand on Mom’s back, carefully threading her through obstacles. Once Mom makes it down the three small steps, she inhales a deep breath before speaking.

“I haven’t been able to make your games, but this one is special. Violet and I made a plan to get me here, and here I am!” Mom grabs my gloved hand and squeezes tight. She’s always had a way of keeping me present and grounded.

Violet brought my mom here. I’m playing this game illegally, and the two most important women in my life have no idea. I force myself to shake off the intrusive thoughts and live in the moment. If this is my last college football game, I’ll make it the best one I’ve ever played.

“Vi,” I reach for my girl over the railing and kiss her with passion. I’m aware that there’s a stadium full of people watching us, but I don’t care. She deserves to be shown off.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” I whisper in her ear, eliciting goosebumps over her arms.

“Go kill it, Ryan Shane.” She kisses my forehead one last time.

Coach blows the whistle four times in a row and shouts, “Shane, get over here. This isn’t the time to play house with your girlfriend!”

I take that as a cue that I’ve spent enough time in the stands. With fifteen minutes until kickoff, Coach huddles us up and runs through the first-half game plan. We break the huddle, listen to the national anthem, and take the field. We’re matched up against Bayou Woods College. They're fast and run lots of trick plays, but we’re ranked higher and are more solid overall. We should win this one easily, but in college football, you never know.

The first quarter doesn’t have much action. Both teams exchange three and outs on the first few possessions. This is closer than I thought it would be. We’ve got the ball back, and Mason zones in on the play. He fakes the screen pass to Hartley and tosses the ball to me. I break free from the backfield and dodge a few tacklers before being taken down. On my way up from the grass, I glance at my girls in the stands, and they are both jumping and screaming my name. Liza has joined the crew, and she’s chanting along with them. My heart swells with pride . I never knew how much I needed them in my corner.

The next play doesn’t gain any yards. We’re on the twenty-yard line. We need to score on this possession to go ahead. It’s going to be a low-scoring game, so every possession counts. Mason drops back. I ferociously block the line to buy him time. He throws a long pass down the sideline that lands in Hartley’s hands. Hartley is the fastest wide receiver on the team. Once he’s got a solid foot on the defender, he’s gone to the end zone.

Our fight song blasts over the PA system. Hartley does a backflip to celebrate, and I smack his helmet a few times. After the extra point, Springs U is up 7-0. The next few possessions go back and forth. Bayou Woods scores on a deep pass to their receiver in the end zone.

The game is tied up 7-7 at halftime. We sprint to the locker room to get a few minutes of cool-down time before Coach’s speech. I check my phone and notice one text message from Logan.

You better tighten things up if you want to win this money.

I click my phone off before any of my teammates glance over and see. I don’t need him badgering me right now. I have too much going on in my head as it is. Coach gives us the usual halftime pep talk laced with calling us out on missed opportunities on the field.

After half, Springs U kicks into gear. Mason is laser-focused and accurate on his throws. I’m finding holes in the defense to gain additional yards, and Hartley gets space on the defenders. We’re up 14-7 with the ball back. This drive is heavy on running plays. We’re trying to eat up the clock and score again.

As time continues to tick away, I score my first touchdown of the game with two minutes left in the fourth quarter. I throw my hands up to my girls and give them the biggest heart. I love having them here. It feels right.

Springs U wins the game 21-7, and we advance to the next round of the tournament. The crowd goes wild, and no one has made any movement to leave the stadium. I make sure to kiss Violet and give my mom a big hug before heading to the locker room for the post-game meeting and shower. Now that the game is over, my thoughts are locked in on the money about to hit my account.

I quickly check the scores of each game I bet on. It looks like I won all but two bets tonight. This means I’ll make roughly five thousand dollars this week. Logan said the money would hit at midnight. The first thing I need to do when it hits is transfer funds to Mom’s medical portal. A sense of relief mixed with stress floods my body.

Violet and my mom meet me outside of the locker room. My girl jumps in my arms and wraps her legs around my waist. A few months ago, she would not have felt comfortable doing this in public, but it seems like I’m giving her confidence in herself and our relationship. After Violet jumps off, my mom wraps me in a tight hug. I notice how thin she is. She’s losing some of her hair too. Nausea hits me at the sight of her.

“That was amazing, son! I forgot what it was like to see you play in person, but the game was electric! You are so special!” Now she's crying happy tears.

“Don’t cry. You know that kills me.” I need her to stop crying before I break down from the overwhelming pressure I’ve felt these past few weeks.

“These are happy tears. I’m so proud of you.” She shouldn’t be.

“Me too. You were amazing out there, babe!” Violet adds.

“Alright, you two love birds. I’ll have Violet drive me home. Then, you two can go celebrate the big win.” The last thing I want to do right now is hang out in a bar with people who don’t care about me.

“I was thinking we could get dinner instead. I’m over the bar scene after games.” I look to Vi for approval.

“I would love that!” Violet beams. She steps on her tippy-toes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“No, no, no, you two are young and should be out celebrating until the sun comes up. You don’t need to be stuck with me all night,” Mom rattles on.

“We want to,” Violet and I add. It’s two against one, so Mom finally complies with our request.

We decided on a small Italian restaurant on the opposite side of town from the bars. Violet and my mom aren’t picky. I crave carbs after a game, and pasta sounds sinfully good right now. The hostess seats us in a back booth away from everyone. This restaurant is cozy, with worn-down booths carved with rips and old lights hanging low from the ceiling. It’s dim, and the menus are faded. I love places like this. If the menus weren’t worn, that would mean the food sucks. Now, I have time to ask Violet how she pulled this surprise off.

“How did you do this, Vi?” My eyes flash between her and my mom.

“I saw how stressed you were about the game, and I knew your mom hadn’t been to any recently. She gave me her number over Christmas break. We figured out what she would need to bring to feel secure at the game, and I drove to her house right after you left this morning. We took our time on the drive and had a buffer to stop for coffee before heading to the field!” I don’t deserve this girl. She thinks of everything that would make my heart burst.

“You’ve got a good one, Ry. She planned it all out. I would trust this one with my life.” She leans over the table to grab my girlfriend’s hands. Mom has a look of true adoration for her in her eyes.

“Thank you,” I say to both of them.

I’m a man of few words, but both of these women know how much this means to me. After we eat our pasta, I request the check. My phone vibrates in my pocket repeatedly. It has to be important, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. Pulling it half-way out of my pocket, Logan, flashes on the screen. Pushing off the inevitable a little bit longer sounds good to me. I deny his call and put it to the back of my mind until I get home. I don’t need this mess clouding my thoughts while I’m with them. We head to our cars, where I insist on bringing Mom home myself, but Violet refuses the offer.

“We had a fun girl’s drive. I don’t mind at all. Plus, you just played an entire football game. Go home and get some rest,” she insists with sincerity in her voice.

If she only knew what I’d gotten myself into.

“Alright. Thanks so much for this, babe. I can’t explain how much it means to me to have both of you watching me.” That’s about as emotional as it gets for me around other people. Violet knows how I am and appreciates the times when I express myself. I squeeze my frail mom in a tight hug before waving goodbye in my lonely car. I’m headed to my dismal rental house to deal with the demons that face me in solitude.