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“Okay, okay, but wait.” He dove beneath his seat and emerged again, triumphant. He offered her a small plate of fries. Then, his voice dropped. “I... I wasn’t sure if you’d come, but, if you did, I didn’t want to forget...”
“Oh, Dylan.” Abby dropped to her knees before the boy and pulled him into a tight hug.
His body shivered against hers, and a small sniffle warned her to keep holding on. Knowing how much a young boy wouldn’t want to be caught crying, she waited until he moved away before releasing him.
No more tears, she reminded herself, then repeated it again, when Kelly fanned her face.
“You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
Abby’s eyes burned as she laughed. “I promise if I ruin yours, I’ll ruin mine, too, so we’ll match.”
Kelly barked a sound, half-sob, half-laugh, then waved Abby over. “Come here, you. It’s been too long.”
“Abby! Abby look.”
Dylan jumped up and down and gestured at the field. Squinting, Abby followed his jouncing finger. On the sideline, now full of players in their signature black jerseys with silver sleeve-stripes, Scott stared straight back up at them, identifiable at this distance only by his number and familiar dark hair.
He held his hand high, fingers signingI love you.
“Is she there?”
Scott shaded his eyes and focused, but the seething crowd kept shifting, blocking his view, changing his perception. “I think so, but... I’m not sure.”
“Would it change the way you played if she wasn’t?”
Scott scowled at his best friend.
“Then pretend she is.”
Nodding, Scott turned and scooped up a practice ball. He never imagined the normalcy of such an action. That, in itself, lent a surreal, dream-like air to the moment. They were in the Super Bowl, and yet, like the start of any other game, he stood on the sidelines lobbing throws into the net.
The coaches called for a final huddle before the National Anthem, then the team captains strode onto the field for the call, Scott among them.
For the first time, Scott allowed the weight of the moment to land as the referee, via a microphone echoing through the stadium above them, described the fancy gold coin he would toss.
“Visiting team will make the call.” The ref jutted his chin toward Scott and the other Raptors.
“Heads,” came a deep voice from beside him, and Scott nodded. They’d decided ahead of time who would call, and what he’d choose.
The ref flipped the coin into the air, and they all gathered close, craning for a glimpse before he announced the result. “Toss is tails. Eagles choose to receive.”
Scott jogged back to the sideline, shaking his head.It doesn’t matter. It’s the coin toss. Don’t get superstitious now.
“Okay, boys,” Coach shouted as he clapped his hands. “Let’s go play the best damn sixty minutes of football of our lives.”
The waiting had always been the worst.
Seeing the defense on the field, trusting their skills, staying warm until he could earn his salary; it used to drive him crazy. Older, now, more seasoned, with an arsenal of tools to manage the nerves, he almost convinced himself this was any other game. Almost, but not quite.
Dropping to the bench, he let his head drift down between his shoulder blades and took several deep breaths.
In, two, three. Out, two, three, four, five... Calm body, calm mind.
He let the noise of the game wash over him, the defensive coordinator’s voice as he sent men onto the field, pulled others off, the roar of the crowd behind him, the hum of the players around him...
“Edwards, let’s go.”
Scott’s head snapped up.