Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ethan

ETHAN HELD UP his neon-colored posterboard sign. It was evident Ethan was no art major, but a giant bold single E in black was all he needed for this. He waited for the signal and sat down in his seat. Job done, Ethan rolled the poster, slid it underneath his chair, and turned to his dad. "Can you believe it?"

"Yes, I never doubted we'd be sitting here one day."

"Since when?" Ethan laughed.

"Since your ceremony," his dad said.

"Yeah, who puts the Super Bowl in their wedding vows?" Ethan recalled, shaking his head at the cockiness of his husband.

John enthusiastically recounted the line Justin had said in their backyard. "This is the first ring of many."

"Surely, he didn't mean that part about repeating the ceremony every time he won so he could put the ring on my finger."

"He told your mother to reserve the white arbor at the rental place."

"He's ridiculous." Ethan crossed his arms and pulled down his cap against the cold. They were in Baltimore, and Ethan inhaled deeply and exhaled, recalling Justin's relief over the easy breathing returning instantly when he'd played a northern team early on in their preseason.

"His breathing will be fine," John said.

"At least he doesn't have to use the inhaler as much here." Ethan was glad they'd finally had a team doctor recognize Justin's issue. How dumb they'd been to think it was only the climate.

"I should have caught that," John said with a sour tone.

"It isn't severe; none of us knew. And he's doing so much better now."

"That's true." John had to yell over the crowd's increasing volume as the opponents lined up for the kickoff.

"He's such a sore loser," Ethan said when the madness calmed.

"They lost two games all season. Was he really that bad?"

"The worst."

"Well, that's part of marriage. You gotta deal with the lows. And it sucks to lose."

Ethan knew this about his father as a player from his mother. He had seen it for himself, later when his dad became a coach with a struggling team, and now he was experiencing it firsthand with Justin. His high school and college careers in the sport had been nearly flawless, but two first-year NFL losses had been a hit on Justin. Of course, he only worked harder to ensure it wouldn't happen again.

"He's up," John said, leaning forward, and Ethan did the same next to him as Justin called the play, stepped back, and threw a pass under the pressure of a blitz.

"That's not going to bode well for them," Ethan mused. And sure enough, Justin pointed at someone on the defensive line and yelled something.

"Wonder what he said?" John asked.

"Something dumb like ‘bring it' or ‘try me,'" Ethan guessed. "He'll run it next. Watch. He does that when he gets irritated with someone."

Sure enough, Justin ran it, weaving and blowing past the defensemen, making his point before running it out of bounds to avoid the tackle. It had taken them thirty yards though.

"I don't know how you don't see it, Dad. He can be a real jerk out there."

His dad barked out a laugh. "Oh, I see it. That's just football."

"I know. Then they all shake hands and act like old friends when it's all over," Ethan said, still grasping that he might never fully understand the madness of this game his father and husband loved so much.

Then, Jones ran it in for a touchdown, and Ethan stood, cheering with 71,000 other people, some of whom booed around them. Ethan held up his finger to match Justin's and took in the sight of so many fans doing the same. They remained standing until the field goal was good.

John's knee bounced, and Ethan knew this wouldn't be another of Justin's easy wins. The opposing team was equally matched, and over the rest of the first quarter and the second, the two teams duked it out with a score-for-score fight. Justin scrambled to avoid another sack attempt and managed to get the ball to Chastain. Nick was taken down hard and had to be helped off the field, their first casualty.

When the next sack attempt came and Justin stiff-armed the player, he got a fifteen-yard penalty for unnecessary roughness, with the defensive player on his back from the unexpected move from the QB.

Ethan laughed, and John shook his head.

"Now he's pissed," Ethan said as Justin threw a long pass to make up for the penalty, and Hernandez ran it in. Ethan stood again, lifted his hand, and sat back down. "What do you want from the food court? I want to beat the crowd and watch the halftime show."

They headed down together to the confirming cheer of the field goal. Ethan used a card Justin had given him for food and swag, and they loaded up and headed back to their seats just as the crowd began to descend for the half. Ethan had gotten pretty good at timing this break from all the games he'd sat through. So far, he hadn't missed a single game, vowing he never would. He'd been flying to the away games and was thrilled over the miles he'd racked up over the season.

"What did you decide to do about school?"

"Justin wants me to consider the online program, but honestly, this is a full-time thing," Ethan said, motioning to the gridiron. "I can't imagine missing his games or not being there for him. I will probably do the online option part-time and still be able to travel to the games."

"Are you okay with that?"

"More than okay. Justin didn't save me, Dad, but he was a big part of putting me back together. I'll be there for him."

John nodded, not seeming bothered by the idea that his son wouldn't finish college as soon as originally planned.

"And I want to enjoy the off-season with him, not be worried about finals or writing papers."

They directed their attention to the show, which was as impressive as Ethan suspected it would be. Then, the second half began. Neck and neck, the two teams fought, getting a little dirtier and more desperate as they battled it out on the turf. Tempers got heated. There was a fumble, a Bay recovery, and a tackle at Baltimore's ten-yard line. Justin donned his helmet and returned to the field.

"Here we go," Ethan said, checking the scoreboard. He knew when Justin covered his ears over his helmet pretending to try to hear the call, he would do something unexpected his coach hadn't called. He'd only done it once before, in one of the earlier games in the season. Justin had been so shocked he hadn't gotten ripped a new one over his change in the play call. He'd later told Ethan he hadn't liked the call and couldn't believe he'd gotten away with it with Richardson.

Everyone in the stands turned as one in slow motion, tracking the unbelievable pass, which Justin had Ethan out on the beach each week to work on. The distance surpassed their greenspace at home, and Justin was determined to beat his best throw. It was easily a seventy-yard sailor as the ball seemed to float in the air before arcing back down and into Jones's hands. The twenty-yard run ended as the offensive line ran down the field to line up again.

Ethan glanced down to see if Richardson or Nellis were pissed, but they seemed to scramble, intent and just as much in this fight as they sent out the next play. Justin passed it off to the running back, and they gained five yards before the dogpile. The next down had them across that magical line, and the stadium roared as Ethan jumped up, spilling a few nachos along the way as he celebrated. They were in the lead again, and he had to tell his father to calm down before he gave himself a few more gray hairs.

"They're going for it," John said, seeming pleased with the decision to forego the field goal and increase their lead.

And Ethan wasn't surprised when his man ran it in, holding up the ball with one hand and flying the number one with the other.

"Guess he's bringing that one home," Ethan said, pleased.

"He was impressed with the shelf I helped you build," John said, looking just as satisfied with their shared effort building a football shelf to hold the numerous balls Justin had brought home to Ethan like a good grade on a report card. They'd constructed a cube-like shelf system in the game room, which was pretty much Justin's trophy case.

"This is over," Ethan said with pride as their defense destroyed every attempt at a comeback.

"Looks like Mom did the right thing reserving the arbor," his father said, amused and emotional as he looked down at the field at his son-in-law.

Ethan sighed, then finished his eleven-dollar nachos.