Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (31 page)

T
he pavement is thudding
under my prosthetic as I run toward where Lauren told me the graveyard is. The cool air is rushing past my ears and I sweep my head from side to side for the first signs of the cemetery. I didn’t have time to get detailed directions from Lauren. I could’ve brought her with me, but I feel like if Chris is there, and I expect he is, then he’s not going to want to talk to his Mom. He needs his Dad.

Before Lauren came down the stairs, those pictures of her family … is Chris mine? When Lauren told me how old he was, I figured that she shacked up with Joel Brickman shortly after I left for West Point. Yet, I looked through a bunch of pictures of her and Chris by themselves for years. I mean, someone must have been taking all those shots, but it seems weird that Joel isn’t in a single one until the wedding picture.

My eyes try to squeeze shut with the wave of guilt washing over me. I should’ve been there for her. Not Joel fucking Brickman. God rest his soul.

Running up the street isn’t as easy without my blade. I’ve gotten so used to it now that I’ve been doing daily jogs and sprints. However, I can see the steel gate leading to the Lewis cemetery up ahead. I don’t need a blade; I need to get … my son.

Is he my son? Why would Lauren keep that from me? Was she that angry at me for going to West Point? They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but that seems ridiculous.

I should’ve been there for her.

You have no one to be angry at but yourself.

I slow my jog to a walk and stride in through the gate, searching the rows of headstones like an owl scanning a field for mice. Where is he? I don’t see him anywhere. Just hundreds of grave markers shining under the moonlight. Some covered in fresh flowers from loved ones who still ache for their losses. Some long forgotten, their headstones crumbling and neglected.

I stop and tilt my head to listen carefully. All I can hear is the faded noise of traffic a few streets over. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Chris didn’t come here. Maybe I’m wrong about everything. He might not even be my kid.

The pictures on the mantle flash in my mind, the only thing is, Chris didn’t look like Joel as a toddler. He didn’t look like Lauren either except for her beautiful skin tone. No. He looked like me.

A small movement catches my peripheral vision and I snap my head over to investigate further. Almost twenty rows away I can see a small figure in the shadows. It’s him. He did come here! I wonder what else I’m right about?

I want to yell his name, but I stop myself. What if he runs? Or I scare him? It’s probably better to just go talk to him. I walk up the end of the row, so I don’t trample on anyone’s graves, and close the yards between us.

With each step I get closer to him, the more I’m sure it is Chris. I can hear his voice being carried by the night air. “Need to let you go …” He’s sitting at the foot of the grave, talking to Joel. Just like Armstrong and I had suggested. I’m happy that he’s getting the closure he needs; I just wish he would’ve waited until tomorrow to do it.

I slow down, I’m not trying to sneak up on him, but I don’t want to interrupt him either. His back is to me, but I can hear the tears he’s choking back in his voice.

“Mom and I are doing ok. I mean, it’s been hard without you, real hard. I’ve been messing up a lot. I just get so mad sometimes that you’re gone, you know? Like, why did you have to leave us when we still needed you here?” his voice cracks.

I stop a couple a rows away from him and let him speak his mind. I’ve been where he is and I know how important it is to say your piece to get some peace.

“It’s been hard on mom.” He sounds like he’s accusing Joel angrily. “And, well, I’ve been hard on her too. I got expelled and then the cops picked me up. I know I’m making her worry. I just, I dunno, I just keep getting so pissed off. I mean angry,” he sounds defeated and I watch as his shoulders slump forward.

“But I think things are going to get better now. Mom has a cool friend. You’d like him, he talked to me about you and stuff. Everyone keeps talking about closure and I guess it’s important. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you that I still miss you and think about you all the time, but I don’t want to be mad about it anymore. I want to go back to having some fun and doing stuff I like again. I guess I felt like I shouldn’t be having any fun without you, but I know you wouldn’t want that. So, I still love you, and I still miss you, but I’m gonna move on. I have to. I don’t want to be mad all the time anymore.” His voice breaks and so does my heart. Chris drops his head into his hands and his back rises and falls with his cries.

I walk over to him and he turns around quickly, wiping the tears from his face.

“Hey man, are you ok?” I look down at his tear-streaked cheeks and wish I could do or say something that would take away his pain. I know from experience that the only true bandage is time.

“Yeah,” Chris sniffs and swallows hard. “I just needed closure. Like you guys said.”

I nod. I know he did. “That’s all right, you did what you had to do. I understand that. Your mom is a bit worried though. She thinks you snuck out to run away or something.”

I watch as his shoulders slump back down and he looks at his hands. “I messed up again, didn’t I?” He sneaks a look up at me sideways.

“Nah, you did what you had to do. I’ll explain it to her. I get it.” I answer honestly. It’s not a lie. When I decided to go visit Corporal Thompson’s gravesite, I pulled a U-turn in the middle of rush hour traffic to do it. Sometimes things can’t wait until morning, or for traffic lights. When your soul tells you that it’s ready to heal, you listen.

“I’m just gonna give her a quick call so she doesn’t keep worrying, ok? I’ll let you finish up here.” I pull my cell out of my pocket and Chris nods at me.

I dial the only number that I’ve bothered to program into this thing and Lauren picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?” I can tell from her voice that Chris isn’t the only one who’s been crying.

“Hey, I’m here with Chris. He’s ok. He just needed to get some closure with Joel, but everything is ok.” I soothe her.

“Oh thank God! I swear every time I think he’s turning a corner he goes and does something like this! What was he thinking sneaking off in the middle of the night! Thank you Lord, he’s safe.” I can practically hear her crossing herself.

“He’s not doing it to act out, ok? Trust me, it’s a good thing that he came here tonight. He needed to talk to Joel as a man. It’s because of me and Armstrong that he even got the idea, so please, cut him some slack this time? I don’t think he’s sliding back.” I plead his case.

The phone is silent. I flick my hand over to check if the timer is still counting the seconds. It is.

“Lauren?”

“Ok,” she finally answers quietly. “But he still has to know that leaving in the middle of the night isn’t ok. Even if it’s to go to the grave.” I can hear the edge creeping back into her tone. I don’t think she knows if she’s relieved, happy, or pissed off. Probably all three. And then some.

“He knows,” I interrupt gently. “Trust me.”

“Ok, well you two get back here soon.”

“We will see you in a bit.” I hang up and walk over to Chris. He’s standing up now and has wiped away the last remnants of his tears.

“Is she mad at me?” He looks up into my face and it’s like looking back in time down into my own reflection.

“Nah. I mean, she was worried, of course. Don’t worry, it’s all gonna be ok.” I throw my arm around his shoulder and give him a quick squeeze. To my surprise, Chris throws both his arms around me and buries his face into my arm.

“Thank you for helping me,” he mumbles. “Not just with this, like, with understanding me, I guess.” He lets go and looks down at his feet.

“Hey, anytime. Ok? I’m always here if you need me.”

Chris looks up at me, his brown eyes searching my face. Like he’s not sure if I’m just saying the words or if I mean them. He seems to find the honesty he’s looking for, because his lips spread into a smile and he nods at me.

“Ok, let’s go back to my house,” he walks away from Joel’s grave. “I’m ready now.”

“Ok.”

The only sound in the air is our footsteps as we walk side-by-side to the cemetery gate. I feel ten pounds lighter just knowing how much baggage the little man at my side just left back there. I can’t even imagine how much better he must feel. Or how much better his life is going to get now that he’s closing the door on his grief. I’m not saying it’ll be perfect, but it should get easier now.

I look over the headstones, lined up like men on parade. All standing at attention, decorated and shining. My skin prickles and a rush of air whooshes in my ears as my mind travels back to the military gravesite I visited with my men lying in it.

The men I lost that day.

The men I let down.

Suddenly, my throat closes and I gasp for breath as I see Thompson’s face in my mind’s eye. Chris fades away, the stones around me disappear as I see the Afghani elder just steps away from me. His hand is hidden beneath his clothes, but I know what’s there. I’ve seen this happen a million times. He pulls out his ax and the sickening thud is all I can hear as Thompson’s head slices in half. The blood drips down what’s left of his face and is soaked up by the sand billowing around us as he crumples in the dirt.

“Corporal!”

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you ok?” I blink my eyes, covered in cold sweat and watch as Chris reappears. The dusty hell hole that I fought in quickly evaporates around me and the cemetery returns.

Chris looks frightened. I fight the urge to puke and wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead, my mind scurrying for some kind of answer to give him.

“Yeah, sorry. I think I might be coming down with something. It’s late. How about we get you home so we can both get some sleep, huh?” My throat is dry as I manage to reassure him. The last thing I need is to have Chris and Lauren worrying about me. It’s my job to look after them, not the other way around.

“Oh, ok,” he looks like he’s not fully buying it. At least he doesn’t keep pushing it though.

What was I saying about leaving that baggage behind at the grave?

Let’s hope it works better for Chris than it did for me.

T
he front door
opens and I stop pacing and watch as Chris walks into the house with Mack behind him. I can’t even feel my feet hit the floor as I run across it. I throw my arms around Chris and thank God silently.

“I was so worried!” My voice is hoarse from crying. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” I step back and hold my son by his shoulders. He looks up at me with soft eyes and a trembling chin.

“I won’t, Mom. I’m sorry.” I can see he’s trying to keep it together in front of Mack. He probably doesn’t want to cry in front of his hero. I won’t put him through that.

“Go on up to bed, I’m gonna come up in a second,” I give him another quick hug.

“Ok,” he answers timidly. “Goodnight,” he looks over his shoulder at Mack and then flees up the stairs.

“Did you talk to him? Did you tell him he can’t do this to me?” I stare into Mack’s eyes once Chris is out of earshot.

“I did. Lauren, I know you’re upset …”

“You’re damned right I’m upset. Anything could have happened to him. Anything! He could’ve gotten hit by a car, or taken by a creep, I could’ve lost him, Mack.” A sob chokes out my words and I cry into my hands. I feel Mack’s arms around me, strong arms that feel like a brick wall surrounding me. I feel so safe with him. I always have.

“He’s alright. I know he scared you, but I’m partly to blame for that. Cameron and I talked to him about getting closure by talking to people we’ve lost at their graves. I didn’t think he’d sneak out tonight to do it, but I understand it. He had a lot to get off his chest. You’ve got a great kid there, Lauren. Go easy on him,” his voice rumbles in his chest.

With my ear pressed against it I can hear his heart beating and his lungs breathing and his voice soothing my fears. Somehow, even just listening to Mack’s body serving the most basic of functions, keeping him alive, calms my frayed nerves and makes me want to stay in his arms forever.

“I have to go talk to him,” I murmur into his shirt, but instead of walking away I wrap my arms around Mack’s waist. Everything feels so far away. The pain of losing Joel. The heartache of watching Chris lash out. My job. The world. It’s all so distant as I just listen to Mack’s heart.

“Of course, that’s because you’re a great Mom, Lauren. Go ahead, just remember that he’s still fragile.”

“I know.” It’s true. My son has become the king of cool in the last year, never shedding a tear, always ready with a smart remark. I could see how close to the surface his emotions were when he walked in. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m just gonna say goodnight to him.” I manage to drop my arms from Mack’s waist and my eyes flutter closed as he leans over me and softly kisses my forehead.

“I would expect nothing less,” he smiles down at me and lets me go. Instantly the agony of the world feels closer. I feel less protected from it all. Like a wound with a Band-Aid ripped off too soon. A shiver runs through me and I rub my hands down my arms.

“I’ll be right back. Thank you for bringing him home.” I kiss Mack quickly and then run up the stairs before my body has a chance to destroy what’s left of my rational brain with it’s desires.

I rap my knuckles lightly on Chris’s open door, he’s still awake.

“Hey,” my voice is soft, the sheer panic I was feeling earlier was washed away by Mack’s embrace. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” Chris nods at me and I cross the floor, sitting lightly on the edge of his bed.

“Mom, I’m sorry I snuck to the grave.” Chris sits up and looks at me with eyes so sad I instantly choke up.

“I know you are honey. You really gave me a scare.”

“Mom, do you think I’m bad? I mean, I know I’ve been doing a lot of bad stuff. Do you think it’s too late to be good now?” He twists the edge of his comforter in his hands and looks down.

“You’re not bad. You’ve just made some bad choices, Chris. Everyone does. Even I’ve made bad choices.”
Like not telling Mack he’s your father.
The thought flits through my mind leaving a fiery trail of guilt.

“You have?” Chris looks up at me, but still clutches the blanket in his hands. It reminds me of when he was three and he wouldn’t give up his baby blanket. I finally had enough of trying to coax him to stop dragging it everywhere, so when he was sleeping one night I snuck it out of his room and cut it up, stuffing the evidence in the bottom of the trash can.

Chris looked high and low for that stupid blanket, eventually finding a strand of his favorite blue blankie covered in coffee grounds and dust at the edge of the can. He pulled out the shred of blanket and wrapped it around his little hands, refusing to let it go, like a little boxer taping his hands before a fight. And what a fight he put up! I finally gave in to him, letting him keep that frayed fabric in his room until he was ready to let it go.

“Yep, even I have. You can’t get through life without making mistakes. It’s how we learn. It doesn’t make you bad, it makes you human.”

His chin quivers and his eyebrows drop as tears slide down the edge of his nose. “So, you still love me then? You’re not mad at me?” he whispers.

I lean in and wrap my arms around him, “Of course I love you! Nothing can change that, honey. Not a single thing. We’re gonna have good times and bad, but I’m always going to love you, Christopher! A mother never stops loving her kids, so I’m sorry, but you’re just stuck with me loving you forever and ever and ever!” I squeeze him tight.

“Ok, Mom! You can let go now,” my son’s voice is muffled by my bear hug and I smile. “Oh, all right. I guess it’s not cool to hug your Mom anymore, huh?” I tease him.

“No, I’m growing up you know. Mack said that I’m the man of the house.” He puffs his chest out proudly.

“I know he did, but don’t be in too big of a rush to grow up, ok? And don’t think that you’re too big to talk to me when things are getting hard for you. We’ve got to stick together, you and I. Got it?”

“Got it,” Chris smiles and slides back down against his pillow. His eyelids look like they weigh a hundred pounds, but he’s still fighting to keep them open.

I give his hand a squeeze and walk over to his door. “Goodnight Chris. Have sweet dreams, honey.”

“I will.” he mumbles back. “Oh, and Mom?”

“Yeah, hon?” I turn and look at him snuggled up in his bed. There’s the boy I forgot I had. Looking so innocent and being so sweet.

“If you want to marry Mack, I just want you to know that it’s ok with me.” He smiles and closes his eyes, resting his head.

I don’t even know what to say to that, and from the soft snores coming from Chris, I don’t think I need to say anything.

“Good night Chris.” I turn off his light and close the door, leaning my head back against it, I think about what he just said.

Kids are so perceptive! It’s amazing what they see, what they know. We adults could learn a thing or two from them.