Tonight, though, made me not give a fuck. I was happy when I was with Ezmita. She made me forget all the shit, and I craved her presence more and more. I’d be leaving soon. Sooner than I’d thought. My new coach had called today and let me know that things looked like we would be moving into the dorms first week of August. Fall athletes would move in first. Then a week later the rest of the students would move in. He wasn’t sure when the season would start, but he did believe it would happen in September.
I should have been fucking ecstatic about the news. I’d been waiting to hear something. Anything. This was a relief.
Taking a quick glance at Ezmita, I realized she was the only reason I wasn’t thrilled. I needed to find a way to distance myself from her and fast. Tonight might be the last time I’d see her for a while. In two and a half weeks I would leave Lawton and she for California shortly after, I assumed. I wasn’t sure if California schools were going back or not. Ezmita hadn’t said anything and I hadn’t fucking asked. Our time was limited, and talking about when this would be over would zap the enjoyment out of the time we had left.
I drove toward the school. She didn’t say anything or ask why. I wasn’t sure why I was taking her there either. I just wanted to walk on the field one more time, and I wanted her to be with me. It would be a good-bye for me, and having her beside me made it sound easier.
Besides, I wasn’t going to miss that field as much as I was going to miss her. I’d be a part of a new football team soon enough. A new home field would mean something to me. I was sure when I left it in four years, I’d have an even harder time with that.
Parking the truck beside the field house, I looked over at her and grinned. “Thought I’d bring you to what was once the most important part of my life.”
She smiled then, understanding why we were here, and reached for the handle on the door. She seemed anxious to be here. I almost regretted bringing her. I didn’t want her to think this meant we were something we weren’t or that I felt something deeper for her. There wouldn’t be an “us.”
I climbed out of the truck as she jumped down on her side. Meeting her halfway, I reached for her hand and we walked out toward the gate. “You ever been to a Lawton game?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
She shook her head. “No, but I heard them from my room on Friday nights.”
The noise from a home game could be heard around most of Lawton on Friday nights. “I’m gonna miss them—Friday nights, that is,” I said.
“You’ll have Saturdays now, though,” she replied.
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I will.”
“Do you know yet if you’re having a football season?” she asked, and I wished she hadn’t. That opened up things I didn’t want to talk about.
“Yeah,” I told her, leaving it at that. She didn’t say anything, and I knew she was waiting on me to say more. Tell her when or something more than “Yeah,” but I didn’t want to talk about that tonight.
We walked toward the middle of the field. The lights were off, and the field hadn’t been used in months. Covid was keeping schools from letting their players come to do drills this summer. The grass had been freshly cut, though. I knew the smell. It brought back memories.
The thought of Covid also reminded me of the fact that my mother was taking care of my infected father. I couldn’t lose her. Not being able to see her or talk to her now made it even more difficult to think about. Life had changed so quickly for everyone, and I wished I’d seen this coming, my not having a chance to speak to my mother. I would have handled it differently.
“What position did you play?” she asked me.
“Running back,” I said, appreciating the subject change.
“Will you be playing that in college?”
I shrugged. “I’ll have to prove myself first.”
She nodded, but I doubted she truly understood what that meant. I didn’t elaborate.
We reached the middle of the field, and I stood there, letting go of her hand and looking around at the empty bleachers. The dark field. The sidelines that once had been my life. This was over. I was leaving it behind. One day I’d be back here to visit. Maybe watch a game, but it would be a memory. Nothing more. I envied Nash because he wasn’t leaving this field. He was staying here and coaching. He’d continue to be a part of this place even while he was in college.