My foster brothers are a dream team, and whatever it was that my dad did to help them achieve this sporting prowess, I am momentarily in awe. Surely the scouts in the crowd will see that they each deserve a shot at glory in the NFL. There isn’t a player on that team who isn’t working one hundred percent.
“I think they might do it,” Aubry gasps as the clock counts down the final quarter. Sean is struggling for space, weaving in and out of men who look like brick walls, his arm poised to throw. Harley’s there, and for a split second my mind blocks out all of the shouting and cheering, and there is just the two of them, surrounded by scrambling bodies thudding into each other like monster trucks and the perfect arc of the ball.
Aubry is off her seat, screaming at the ball, screaming at Harley, screaming at the world, and with seconds to go, my foster brothers achieve the touchdown that wins the game.
Thank you, I say in my mind to whatever power out there supported their glory. The crowd around me is on its feet, but I’m too pumped with quiet relief to do anything other than sit and watch them celebrate. And when they’ve finished the backslapping and bro-hugs and have been sportsmanly and shaken the hands of the other team, they look to where I’m sitting.
Eleven faces are turned to me, and Aubry is cheering and waving. I wave back, too, smiling despite all the worry rattling around in my head. This is a moment my dad would have loved to have shared with them, and for that, I’m grateful to be here in his place.
My purse vibrates on my lap, an indicator of more messages. I don’t want to look, though. I just want to get out of here.
“I’m going to wait for them outside,” I tell Aubry.
“They’ll be a while,” she says. “You sure you don’t want to stay and hang with us?”
“Thanks, but I’m not feeling too good. I’ll go get some air.”
Aubry nods, her eyes searching my face. “It was nice meeting you, Maggie.”
“You too.”
There are so many people milling around that it takes me ages to get outside. They showed me where to wait so we can go home together, so I find a wall to perch on and watch the world go by. Couples pass me hand in hand, stopping to talk or kiss, laughing and joking. There is so much happiness in relationships that don’t start with challenges.
Maybe some people are just lucky that way. They’re born into families with parents who love each other and stay together, the stability trickling down into their kids. Maybe, without early trauma, a person can trust more easily. Maybe that trust is the best basis for relationships, and that’s why people who struggle to trust seem to fail at this more.
I’m nineteen, and I’m already tired. I meet people my age, expecting them to let me down as Dad did. I don’t value myself enough to expect the right kind of treatment. I wish so hard that I could be more like the girls dressed in their cut-off shorts and sandals, faces filled with light and hope, the boyfriends on their arms staring adoringly. Instead, I’m nineteen and pregnant, about to become a burden for whoever will get saddled with me. It shouldn’t be Mom who bears the brunt of my bad decisions, but at least she’s my flesh and blood. My foster brothers are volunteering to shoulder the burden, and really, they’re nothing to me. We shared a parent in the loosest sense. That’s it.
Time passes slowly, but eventually I see Dwayne emerge into the sunlight. He blinks, the brightness startling him for a second, then his gaze finds mine, and he breaks into a smile.
“Maggie, we did it!” he shouts. Behind him, Donovan and Daryl appear, followed by the rest of their brothers, all sharing the same euphoric expressions.
I stand as they approach, forcing down the cloud of my doubts and painting on a smile. “You were awesome,” I say as Dwayne picks me up and spins me around. The wind whips my hair, and the motion and Dwayne’s laughter momentarily takes me to their place of happiness, and it’s amazing.
Then a voice pierces the air, and my heart seems to stop in my chest.
“THERE SHE IS!” Cathy screeches, striding forward followed by her minions, and next to her is Justin. His face is dark, probably because she’s been goading him. She always could twist him in whatever direction she needed him to turn.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Maggie?” he says as Dwayne stands me back on my feet. “I told you I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“She’s desperate,” Cathy says, her face contorted into a twisted smile of glee and eyes alight with the power of confrontation. “She thought she could stalk you at the game, and I wouldn’t be here. She wants you back.”