I don’t want to look, but how can I not? If she’s sitting behind me, I’d want to know. I try to look out of the corner of my eyes, turning my head only slightly. It’s not hard to spot them on the other side, waving as though they’ve seen an old friend, except that’s not what this is about. This is about letting me know that they know where I am. Cathy’s vindictiveness isn’t new. She’s renowned for taking poor unsuspecting people and grinding them into the dirt with her viciousness.
Oh God.
I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to get embroiled in a slanging match. I don’t want her to humiliate me in front of my boys, and I don’t want her to know what I’m involved in here. The gossip swirling about the baby is enough. Adding a polyamorous relationship would just push it over the edge. Plus, Mom would find out for sure, and she’d hit the roof.
I’m sweating as my thoughts churn. I should have stayed at the house. I should have made my excuses, but the boys are so excited that I’m going to be here cheering for them. I couldn’t let them down.
My phone buzzes again. Justin is mine. Don’t even think about talking to him ever again, Cathy messages.
Does she seriously think I want him? Can she not see what a waste of space he is? There is no way I’d want to put my child through having a flake for a father. Kids need reliable parents who don’t drop in and out of their lives at the drop of a hat. They don’t need to be left to feel less-than because their parent can’t deal with adult-level responsibility. I guess she’s so possessive of him out of her own insecurity. Or maybe I’m too kind, and it’s just a special level of crazy that motivates her. Who knows! All I do know is that when this game is done, I’m running out of here as fast as I can. I can get lost in the crowd and find somewhere for the boys to collect me that’s away from here.
The stadium slowly begins to fill, and with it, the anticipation of the game builds. There’s music, and the boys’ college cheer team is out in force with their barely-there costumes and megawatt smiles. I recognize a few of the girls from the party, Briana and Candy.
I end up sitting among college students, some of whom are friends of the boys. “You’re Maggie, right?” the girl to the left of me says.
“Yes.”
“I’m Aubry. Gordon told me you’d be here. He told me to look after you.” She flicks her auburn hair that’s glossy and full. Maybe that’s why she was given her name.
“That’s sweet. Thanks.”
“Do you like football?” She takes a bite of her hotdog, gesturing toward the field.
“The men in tight pants make it bearable.”
Aubry laughs and nods her head with wide, expressive green eyes. “The tight pants are all most of us girls are here for,” she says. “Although a lot would deny it.”
“I’m stressing,” I say. “The boys were all really wired before we got here. This game means a lot, not just the result but how they play. And there is so much conflict between Gordon and Cox.”
“I heard about the party,” she says. “Shawna told me you stepped in to stop it escalating.”
“Men aren’t good at keeping calm when their egos are being threatened.”
“Especially the pumped-up athletic ones.”
“I think Cox is taking something… he’s so huge, and the anger there just doesn’t seem natural.”
Aubry looks thoughtful, her eyes drifting to where the players are starting to run onto the field. The stadium erupts. In my hand, my phone buzzes again, and instead of cheering my boys on and watching all the preliminaries, instead of internally praying that they do their best and that luck is on their side, my attention is drawn back to more messages from Cathy.
I hope you lose your skank baby. No child deserves a slut mother like you.
Justin never wanted to be with you. He told me you were desperate. He told me he felt sorry for you.
You’re pathetic. Even your dad didn’t love you.
Everyone knows what you did. Don’t think you can come back to college. It’s over for you.
Time for you to sign up for food stamps like your mom.
By the time I get to the last word, I feel sick to the very pit of my stomach. I know her words are terrible. I know that no one should ever say such horrible things to another person. I even know that some of it isn’t true, but some of it is. Some of it slices my heart because it’s things I tell myself. It’s things that I feel deep in my own soul. Desperate… slut… didn’t love you… never wanted you… pathetic. It’s like she read all my deepest fears and regurgitated them back to me.