Page 76 of The Way We Touch
A warm sense of pride moves from my stomach up to my neck, and I’m standing behind my brother’s chair gazing at the screen.
“We’ll get a feel for what they can do tonight.” Jack leans back, crossing his arms like a coach evaluating the situation. “The Allstars are a tough team, and I’m sure they’ve done their homework.”
Austin sits behind them, quietly watching, until Kimmie hops down and climbs into his lap. “Will you be on TV, too?”
Allie’s son pats her back. “Maybe,” is his quiet reply.
His eyes never leave the screen, and I know that look. He already sees himself there, which means it’s only a matter of time. Logan said he’s going to go far.
The cameras cut to the sidelines, where the guys stand around, helmets in hand, waiting to take the field. My hands are clasped, and I watch as Garrett goofs off, getting in a fellow lineman’s face, smiling broadly.
They do a little friendly rough-housing, revving each other up, and beside him, Logan stands calmly watching the field. His fingers are hooked in the neck of his shoulder pads, and he’s so focused.
“How are you doing?” Craig is at my side with two beers.
He hands one to me, and I take a sip before answering quietly, “This is worse than ballet.”
The Allstars have the ball first, so I take the opportunity to check on Salina and make sure Thomas has everything he needs. Salina reports the three tables are almost done, while Thomas sits alone on a stool in the back of the kitchen. He’s watching the game on a small, black-and-white television with an antenna.
“I don’t think we’ll have any more orders tonight if you want to watch with us on the big screens.” I call to him.
He only waves me away. “I always watch in here on this TV. It’s good luck.”
I hold up both hands. “Okay!”
I know not to mess with sports superstitions.
Clapping and cheering echoes in the dining room as I return to where everyone’s watching. “That was quick,” Zane laughs.
It’s time for our guys to hit the field, and a knot is in my throat. My stomach is queasy, and I thread my fingers, putting both hands on top of my head. Why did I say I would do this?
They all line up, and the music is driving my heartbeat faster. I’m having trouble breathing, then the snap happens. They all break into play, and as the cameras zoom out, my eyes stay on Garrett and Logan.
I can’t inhale deeply as my massive brother drives forward like a bull, meeting an equally huge guy head-on. A soft Oh! jumps through my lips, and I step behind one of the posts in the center of the dining room to peek out at the screens, as if I’m watching a horror film.
All eyes are on the quarterback, and the minute the ball leaves his hand, cameras flash to Logan, Number 12, at the ten-yard line. Sure enough, he’s wide open, but a big guy is barreling down the field right at him.
“Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” I clasp my fist, holding it over my nose to partially block my view.
Logan slows down to make the catch. The defensive lineman is looking at the ball, but it’s clear he’s making a drive for Logan. Every muscle in my body braces for the hit.
“He’s going to take the penalty.” Zane’s voice is tense.
My throat knots, and my hands flatten on my forehead above my eyes. Right when it looks like the guy will grab him, Garrett’s there to take him out.
The room erupts into shouts as the pass is complete and Logan easily runs it in for the score. A red banner flashes across the bottom of the screen with the word Touchdown in all caps. The stadium is going crazy, and I’m trying to catch my breath. My hands are shaking, and my muscles are weak from the rush of adrenaline.
Allie runs to where I’m leaning my forehead against my hiding-post. “You okay? That play was amazing.”
“That’s how they make history.” Jack and Zane are on their feet, and while my oldest brother is pacing, Zane only takes a beat before returning to his chair.
The rest of the game is pretty much the same. I nearly have a panic attack every time Logan is approached by a defensive lineman. I have to look away every time Garrett slams into another player as big as he is.
A few times, I have to go into the kitchen and watch with Thomas. His little television is much less “in your face,” and I wonder if that’s why he prefers it. He’s known us all our lives, and maybe he doesn’t like to see my big brother getting beat up either.
The Pirates win easily in the second half, and navy and red confetti rains down on the players. People flood onto the field, and we watch as the reporters mix with the players to get sound bites.
The guys are all in front of the camera. Garrett lifts their quarterback off his feet, and when the camera pans to Logan, he grins, holding up one hand with his index finger and thumb crossed just like the emoji he sent me.