For myself.
But it’s no use. I’m sobbing like a baby, for the baby we lost. Remembering how scared I was, thinking for one terrible moment, that I lost Ava.
I didn’t lose her though. I’ve still got her.
I’ve still got my heart.
My soul.
My love.
My princess.
My Ava.
Thirty-Eight
Ava
My chest is so tight, I feel like my rapidly beating heart is going to burst through it at any minute. I can’t tear my gaze off the field and my hands are clasped in front of my mouth, as if I’m praying. If I had fingernails, I’d be chewing on them right now.
We have less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter of the Mountain West championship, and the Bulldogs are playing the game of their lives versus Boise State. The score is 31-27, Bulldogs. But currently, Boise has the ball.
And it’s killing me.
“They’ve got this.” This is from my brother Jake, who’s standing beside me. We’re all standing in front of the glass window of our box seats. My family. My friends whose boyfriends are all out there playing the game. Jackson and Ellie are here too.
We’re all here, nervous and excited. The win is so close we can touch it.
But then again, it’s not. It’s not close at all. One wrong move and Boise could take it. If they score right now, that’ll change everything. A touchdown puts them in the lead. A field goal?
We’ll be ahead by one.
One.
“You really think so?” I ask him, my voice low. I need positive reinforcement right now, and I’m surprised to get it from Jake. Granted, all of his friends are out there so of course he’s going to support them.
But my boyfriend? Yeah, probably not.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since I had the miscarriage, and everyone is still treating me like I’m fragile. I sort of hate it. No one wants to talk about it either. Li
ke they’re all afraid I’m going to burst into tears and fall completely apart.
“Yeah, I do.”
I glance up at my big brother to find him watching the game, a USC beanie on his head because come on, this is Jake. Hannah is on the other side of Jake, chatting with our mom. They’re the only ones not completely traumatized and on edge because of this game and I envy their cool.
My gaze trails Caleb as he darts across the field, ramming himself into an offensive player and taking him to the ground. I jump up and down, cheering loudly as Caleb gets up and glances around the stadium. I swear I can see his smile from here, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.
“He’s played a great game,” Jake says.
“He has.”
“So has Eli.”
I’m quiet, secretly pleased. Eli has played phenomenal tonight. For a guy who used to blame my magical vagina for ruining his game play, he sure has been doing great the last two weeks. First with the last playoff game and now tonight.
Of course, he hasn’t touched my so-called magical vagina since I had the miscarriage, but we’ve been spending a lot of time together. Just because we lost a baby doesn’t mean we lost feelings for each other.