Page 123 of Running
“I prayed for so long that my mom would see me, would support me, like your mom does your family. That she would want to build me up, back me up in my path. But now…”
She pauses, swallowing like the words are tough to say. “Now I realize that it won’t ever happen. Getting to know your mom—it makes me realize that mine had a choice on how to treat us, treat me. And there wasn’t anything I could do to change that choice.”
I reach down to cup her cheek. “No, Goldie, it was all her.”
She nods slightly, my hand still in place.
“You’re perfect as you are. Perfectly Grace.” God, I know exactly what she’s going through, and it’s like I’m talking to myself too. “It’s her loss to miss out on her incredible daughter.”
“Yeah, and look at Landon,” she says as I drop my hand to glide against her neck. “He’s long abandoned the hope of functional parents. She’s missed a chance at a genuine relationship with him too. But she doesn’t seem to care. I literally don’t understand it.”
I think of my own father and the confusion that roared up for years over his seemingly irrational, self-centered behavior.
“There’s no logic behind it, Grace. I know you’re going to search for a reason. Some people have no ability to think of anyone other than themselves, though. And unfortunately, many become parents.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I give her a peck and then we both slowly lay back down flat on the bed, my arm outstretched over her chest.
After I let her take a few moments to process, I speak up again.
“So everything’s going to get crazy again with football once regular practice begins tomorrow. And now my family is here.”
“The usual chaos in my life. It’s okay.”
I turn to face her again. “Just making sure, you’re still alright with us keeping this quiet for now? Truly?”
She twists my way, a smile starting to creep onto her face. “Yeah, QB1. You have ten regular season games and then the playoffs to win. We’ll delay all the drama until after.”
“Whoa, I think I like the QB1 reference.” I wink. “You may need to roll that one back.”
“Make me come, QB1,” she says, faking a moaning voice and giggling.
Only I’m not joking.
I sit up and slide down between her legs, gliding my hand over her pajama shorts.
“That’sprobably in my playbook, Goldie.”
Walking into the Waves building the next day is a wake-up call. I’d been in on Monday for film review, but the intensity is different today. Other than some light joking in the locker room about different guy’s vacations, all conversations are focused on one thing: sharpening ourselves up for the second half of the season.
As he kicks off the first offensive team meeting of the week, Marshall is ready with some twists in strategy and personnel assignments for the next game. I start absorbing his feedback as quickly as I can, doodling out my own versions to help me remember. We all pay rapt attention as he shows us tape of our next opponent, Dallas, and how to implement some of the formation and route shifts.
Within three hours, we’re on the field, practicing the same.
And while the assimilation back into quarterback mode is abrupt, the immersion is also necessary. It’s football time again, and we’re playing for the biggest prize in the game.
I don’t see Landon much because the defense is also in deep preparation mode together. But he does text me after practice.
LANDON: Sorry we didn’t catch up today. Thanks for taking care of Grace during the storm. She mentioned that.
I cringe at his thank you—yeah, this shit is awkward. But what can I do at this point?
JOHNSON: No problem, man. Trip was good?
LANDON: Yup. I’ll call you after dinner.
And when he does, around seven-thirty, I have to put my finger up to Grace to tell her to stay quiet. We’resitting in the living room watching a show while the rest of my family is starting the kids’ bedtime routine.
