Page 17 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

When I was young, my whole world revolved around sports. My father was the local hero and state champion football coach, two of my best friends were star Division One football players, and I was even a state-ranked lacrosse player.

Growing up surrounded by athletes, I knew I wanted to be a physical therapist. And after two successful lacrosse seasons, good grades, and being accepted into the physical therapy program—which would require years of education and semesters on rotation practicum—my future seemed laid out before me.

And then everything went off the rails. One of our closest friends, Shaw’s best friend and Grace’s boyfriend, Tyler, died tragically while away at college. Suddenly, our rosy-colored sunglasses of the perfect future were gone—none of us were guaranteed an easy road.

James had been on the men’s lacrosse team. He’d been so handsome, and we became fast friends with a lot in common. His schedule had been as rigorous as mine, and he was as dedicated to his degree and to his future as I was to mine. We fit.

There had been mutual respect, and we loved each other the way untried couples believed they did.

But our trial came right before Thanksgiving break when I discovered I was pregnant?—

I cut off the bitterness the memory sometimes evoked. While having Aaron was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if the timing wasn’t ideal, the following events were difficult to remember.

Telling James. Telling my father. Telling Shaw…

How differently they’d all reacted. James had refused to deal with it.

My father had stormed off and wouldn’t talk or look at me.

Shaw had wrapped me up in his arms and told me we’d get through this— we would get through this—as if the baby had been his and mine.

James didn’t say that. He didn’t reassure me. But Shaw did. He’d always been my rock. Except, as my father pointed out, that rock was not meant to gather moss. Shaw wasn’t meant for a quiet life, which was where I was headed.

I pulled into my garage, pushing away the memories. It was done, and there was no going back. I went into the house to find the guys—my guys.

Tossing my bag and keys on the table, I found the remnants of a snack and a note in Shaw’s angular print. “Went to the park.”

A few minutes later, a chorus of laughter and shouting greeted me as I rounded the trees and bushes that outlined the park.

I immediately zeroed in on him. With his back to me, Shaw pointed with his uninjured arm as he shouted at a group of boys running up and down the field.

I quickened my step until I stood beside him, scanning the area for Aaron.

Where was he? I looked over at the benches.

Shaw stepped away and onto their makeshift field. “Hey, okay. Come here, and let me explain this better.” He motioned the four boys over.

I was prepared for him to lie to me about Aaron when I saw his good hand land on my son’s shoulder. He was one of the four boys, and he was holding the football.

“Jacob, after you hand off the ball to Aaron…” Shaw's voice faded out as he squatted down and, at that level, was practically eye to eye with them as he pointed out plays, the boys following his instruction with rapt attention. “Okay, let’s try that again.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Shaw,” the boys said in unison and smiled at him with stars in their eyes.

Aaron caught my eye and became hesitant. He hugged the football close to his chest and stood by Shaw, as if he would block for him if he had to run from me.

What the heck?

I walked toward them, finally gaining their attention. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

My son didn’t play football. He didn’t play sports at all.

Shaw’s smile was uncertain. “Hey, Kelce. You’re here. I guess I lost track of time. Sorry about that.”

“We’re playing football,” Aaron said with force, squeezing the football closer to his chest.

I clasped my hands together and tried to ease my tone. “I can see that.”

“We were out for a walk, and the boys came over to say hi,” Shaw tried to explain.

“They’re boys from my class. They know Shaw is a big football star.”

“They were throwing the football around—” Shaw continued.

“And they wanted him to throw with them, but he can’t because of his injury. So, I did. They let me play instead.”

And there went my heart, broken in two.

I swear pieces of my heart broke so often for my boy and his pure, painful words each day. It was amazing I had anything left of it at all.

I took a deep breath through my nose, willing the tears not to appear.

Aaron rarely got asked to play or join other kids.

The cadence of his voice, the volume he spoke at, the quirkiness of his interaction, and the topics he chose to discuss were all different from those of most kids.

Some were still young enough not to mind it, but older ones, who’d rather die than be associated with someone “weird” …

they were usually cruel and ostracizing, as if being seen with someone “different” would condemn them to social Siberia.

I nodded.

One of the boys called Aaron’s name.

“Why don’t you work on that play I showed you guys?” Shaw said and waved Aaron off in the other boys’ direction.

I tracked Aaron as he ran to the boys, still clutching the football to his chest.

Shaw stared down at his feet, poking at the ground with his shoe. “Kelce?”

I watched my boy interact with the other kids, relinquishing the ball to one of them and lining up for the snap. Tears finally came as I saw him act like a neurotypical preteen.

“Kelcie, did I screw up? You have that look, like I did something stupid.”

I shook my head. “I—” There was a slight hitch, and I cleared my throat. “No. You didn’t?—”

He gestured at Aaron, who took the ball and completed a jet sweep, dodging the other boys and avoiding their touch before running into the imaginary touchdown zone.

Shaw began to cheer, and I clapped for him.

“I thought you said he couldn’t play sports. He seems like a natural.”

I shook my head. “He is a natural. He’s very coordinated.

And he’s fast.” I subtly wiped away the tear that was escaping, pinching the bridge of my nose as if I were tired.

“But he has trouble being on a team. He has trouble with the crowds, with all the noise, and most of all, with the social expectations.”

Shaw shrugged. “He seems fine now.”

The flippant comment seemed to minimize the past twelve years when my son wasn’t “fine,” and my tone turned sharp.

I gestured to the four boys. “Yes, this is fine for now, until one of the boys disagrees with him, or a referee makes a call he doesn’t like, or they start to lose because a teammate screws up, or—” I broke off, realizing I was ramping up too much and toned my voice down to explain it better.

“He will dig in and not back down. It’s not fine then. ”

Shaw looked at me and then at Aaron and shrugged. “Well, this is just having fun.”

He didn’t get it. “It’s fun until it isn’t.

It’s like setting him up to fail. Dangling something in front of him that we know will set him off.

Yes, he wants to play football. Yes, he wants to play team sports.

But sometimes, what you want and what you can deal with are two completely different things. ”

I stepped around him as the boys lined up. It was Aaron’s turn on defense. “Aaron, honey, it’s almost time to go. Please make this your last play.”

He ignored me.

Shaw clapped his hands. “Boys, let’s wrap this up, and maybe we can do it again this weekend.”

This was met with a mixture of groans and nods, except for Aaron, whose expression remained blank as he stared down at his feet, refusing to look our way.

Shaw turned back to me and lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds or do anything that would hurt Aaron. He told me on the way home that he didn’t have anyone to play with after school. These boys approached us, and I thought it was a good opportunity?—”

I shook my head at him and waved him off. “No. I know. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just frustrating that I’m always the one to tell him no.”

We watched as the boys ran each other down, and Aaron touched the receiver with both hands. Aaron’s legs were long, like mine. With two parents who were lacrosse midfielders and a grandfather who was a college football player and coach, Aaron had sports in his DNA.

“Then why always tell him no?” Shaw said softly as we watched the boys cheer each other on and compliment Aaron. All seemed more than a little surprised at his athleticism. I let that question hang in the air. “You know he’s a natural…”

I nodded. “James and I agreed years ago that we wouldn’t encourage team sports. He’s tried swimming, karate, and other individual athletics, but nothing has captured his attention. We just thought he’d grow out of it.”

“Seems he hasn’t…”

I let out a huff. Clearly, with a professional tight end living next door to you, losing interest wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

Shaw stood with his good hand on his hip, the wind blowing his hair out of his face, and a contented smile. My heart warmed. He was enjoying this. Aaron was enjoying it. I should be too.

Lost in thought, I missed it when Shaw put his arm around my shoulder and tried to shake off my mood. “I’m hungry. Want to get some dinner?”

“You’re always hungry.” I pushed my hand against his rock-hard abs in the most pathetic attempt to separate us.

Aaron came running over, and the boys walked in opposite directions.

“Derrick, Jacob, and Henry asked if we could come here again on Sunday. They have a game tomorrow but want to play again on Sunday if we can come.” He looked up at Shaw’s towering frame and not at me.

The fact that he was asking Shaw and not me said more than I wanted to analyze.

Shaw glanced up at me, hesitating. “Let’s see what your mom has planned.”