Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

FOOTBALL SATURDAY

JAX

O n Saturday morning, I wake up early and start on breakfast for me and the girls before another busy day of soccer and baseball. Mackenzie trudges to the kitchen in her usual morning mood, with Alice bounding down the hall behind her, curly bed head sticking out in every direction.

With mugs of chocolate milk, because thanks to Dad my girls are too good for instant hot chocolate now, the girls sit side by side on the couch watching the early games from England.

“That’s a penalty kick,” Mackenzie patiently explains to Alice as they watch the morning’s first game. I took a few PKs in my day so I’m very interested in seeing how this plays out, but I return my focus to the task at hand: Pancake batter.

“See the box he’s standing in?” Mackenzie asks.

“There are two boxes,” Alice helpfully supplies.

“The bigger box,” Mackenzie’s patience is waning.

“Yes, I see the bigger box.”

“Okay. When a foul happens inside that box, the person who was fouled gets to take a penalty kick. It also happens if there’s a handball inside that box.”

“And that’s when they touch the ball with their hands, right?” I ask, earning myself an eye roll from my oldest. Score one for Dad!

“Yes Dad.”

“Okay. So what about a foul outside of that box?” Alice asks.

“That’s a free kick.”

“And what’s a corner kick?” I ask, having more than a little bit of fun this morning.

“You have to ask Grandpa about that one,” Mackenzie puts her mug on the end table before grabbing a blanket and spreading it across both of their laps. “That’s his team, by the way. The one in red. He likes them a lot, even though they lose.”

“Your Grandpa has always cheered for teams like that.” Growing up in Michigan we were almost always cheering for losing teams, it doesn’t mean we loved them any less, just that we worked a little harder to love them. “He loves the teams that are hard to love.”

After mixing up pancake batter using Dad’s recipe, I take some out and put it into a second bowl, dropping in a few bits of food coloring before adding the batter to the hot griddle. What starts out looking like a soccer ball pancake ends up looking a little blob-like and indistinguishable as a soccer ball. At least I tried.

I give the girls each two small pancakes, sausage, and some fruit while I fortify myself with coffee and a few extra pancakes before sending the girls down the hall to get dressed for the day. Once Mackenzie is in her uniform and ready to go I braid her hair, and Alice’s too because she insists she needs braids to cheer for her sister and who am I to argue with that logic?

Once everyone is ready, we’re out the door to the soccer field where my family has already gathered. I find my parents, and my brothers’ families gathered on the sideline with chairs, blankets, and a cooler of food. After Mackenzie’s game today, we’re planning on a family lunch before crossing the rec center complex and heading to the baseball field for the last day of Owens’ Hardware Baseball.

After quick hugs for everyone, Mackenzie runs to meet up with her team, and I find myself seated on a blanket in the grass with Mom after having relinquished my seat to Alice so she can watch soccer highlights with Dad on his phone.

“Alice got in trouble at school yesterday,” I take my glasses off and scrub a hand down my face.

“What did my girl do?” Mom asks, a smile in her voice as she leans back on her elbows beside me.

“Your girl has been sneaking into the library at lunch time. She skipped lunch and recess. Apparently the principal found her hiding in the science section reading and munching on the carrot sticks I packed for her. She didn’t eat anything else from her lunch because she didn’t want to get the books messy.” Mom laughs, and I don’t blame her, I wanted to when Elaine told me how she found Alice.

“When I asked her about why she wasn’t going to recess, she said that it’s ‘too much’, and Emma – Ms. Mitchell – said that she noticed Alice gets overwhelmed when she’s in the library with her class. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried, Mom.”

“It sounds like she’s getting overwhelmed by sensory input,” Mom says thoughtfully. “And with what you’ve told me about keeping her room clean and the way she hyper focuses on things, I think you need to seriously consider getting her evaluated for ADHD.”

“But she’s not hyperactive,” I immediately protest, even though I know not to question my mom on this.

“She doesn’t have to be Jax,” the patience I see from Mom right now is the same patience Alice got from Mackenzie this morning, she’s clearly picked it up from spending so much time with Mom over the years. “ADHD presents differently in different people, especially when it comes to young girls and women. The ADHD you’re thinking of is what we most often see portrayed in the media – hyperactive, no impulse control, behavior issues in school – and while those are characteristics of ADHD, there’s more to it. Alice is displaying inattentive ADHD; she has trouble sustaining focus, completing tasks, and staying organized.”

“You just said she hyper focuses, though.”

“It’s a contradiction, I know, but sometimes hyperfocus kicks in and a person with ADHD can block out everything else and focus on a task, sometimes even missing their body’s own cues like hunger and thirst. I think that might also be contributing to her sensitivity to sensory input, but, as always, this is not me offering a diagnosis, just advice as your mother, Alice’s grandmother, and a doctor who wrote her thesis on the differences in how men and women present with ADHD.”

“So what you’re telling me is, you know what you’re talking about?”

“Not in so many words,” Mom laughs, “but yes.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s got coping skills Jax, I see them all the time.”

That’s news to me, but then again, I don’t necessarily know what to look for. I trust that Mom knows what she’s talking about, I just hope that I haven’t been making things harder on Alice in any way by not knowing what’s going on with her or what signs to look for.

“She blocks out distractions by listening to music or television while she reads or works on schoolwork. I know she has trouble keeping her room clean, but have you ever noticed that she does a great job of cleaning it? That’s her hyperfocus coming out, it’s the inattention that leads to her absentmindedly leaving her clothes on the floor, or not picking up toys and books that she knows are there.”

“How have I missed all of this?” It’s a punch in the gut knowing that I’ve missed so many signs, and so much of what’s going on in Alice’s head. She’s an outgoing kid, but easily gets overwhelmed when around a lot of people or a lot of noise – so, our entire family – and I just assumed that she wanted to be near me instead of at the table doing her homework; I never considered that the music or tv was actually helping her block out other distractions.

“Don’t go there, Jax. Give yourself some grace, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Now, let’s separate those two before your dad convinces Alice to start cheering for the wrong team.”

After a morning of soccer, the girls come with me to the baseball field for our last game of the year. Alice and Mackenzie sprawl on a quilt in the grass with an assortment of books and Mackenzie’s ever present soccer ball, and a picnic lunch, while family and friends start to gather around.

“Alright everybody, bring it in!” I call to the team once everyone has arrived at the field. “Before we get started today, I want to thank you all for another great season. I look forward to being a part of this team every year, and am grateful for the love and support that you all offer to me and my family, and to each other. Sam, Mr. Owens, so many of us wouldn’t be here without you, without this team. Thank you.”

“Play ball,” Mr. Owens responds, choking back tears, and we follow orders, taking our positions on the field for one last time this season. It’s a beautiful afternoon for baseball – there’s a slight chill in the air, not a cloud in the sky as the first pitch is thrown, and the leaves on the trees nearby are just beginning to change. I take my spot at second base for tonight’s game, with James beside me at shortstop. It’s been a long time since we’ve fielded together, but there’s nobody on this field I trust more than James.

As afternoon fades into early evening, we enter into the ninth inning of a scoreless game, any other night we would have already called it, but this is the last night of the season and no one wants to see it end just yet, so we keep going. I’m up to bat, standing at home plate and staring Sarah down as she steps into her windup.

“Coach Mitchell!” Mackenzie's voice carries from where she’s camped out on the sideline, I swing at the pitch and in my surprise the bat slips right out of my grip.

“Heads up!” James shouts from the bench as I turn to see the crowd moving away from the flying baseball bat, as James moves to grab it, my attention is drawn to the woman now seated on the blanket with Alice and Mackenzie. Her hair piled haphazardly in a bun, a loose fitting hoodie with a familiar soccer team logo hangs on her long frame. James presses my bat back into my hands with a smug grin no doubt guessing at the reason for my distraction.

It doesn’t matter when I dig in for the next pitch. I take a cut at the ball and launch it into deep left field. I run and I don’t stop running. I vaguely hear the girls cheering for me as I round first, one eye on the left fielder to make sure he doesn’t catch it. He doesn’t. Mr. Owens signals for me to round third and head home, where I’m greeted by my team, celebrating the walk-off. What a way to end the season. The girls give me hugs and high fives and Emma starts to walk away from the field and the people cheering and celebrating. Alice starts to do the same, shutting down and gravitating toward the edges of the fray, her hand going to Emma’s.

There’s a tightness in my chest as I watch Emma take Alice’s hand, crouching down beside her as the two of them talk. Something almost maternal in the gesture. Something my girls have never experienced for themselves. There’s only so much I can offer them; their grandmas and aunts love them, but that’s all they’ve ever known. Mackenzie joins them on the edge of the crowd and I have to turn away, focusing instead on packing up my equipment and forcing myself not to think of Emma as anything more than coach and librarian. We hardly even know each other, I shouldn’t be crossing that line, but the image of her with my daughters reminds me of what they’ve never had. What I’ve always hoped they’d experience.

“Hey,” I recognize the voice and the steady pressure of the hand on my shoulder. I turn to find James, his intense gaze meeting mine. “You good?”

“Yeah, just…”

“I know.” His gaze flits briefly over my shoulder. “I know.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing out on, but James, I can see how they’re drawn to her, the same way they were to Mandy and Penelope as soon as they met them.”

“Don’t think about that,” James says, that sly smile of his creeping in. “Just…take the girls for ice cream tonight. And ask her to join you. Just the four of you.”

“I can’t date Mackenzie’s coach!”

“Who said anything about a date?” James’ smirk turns to a grin as he turns and walks away, planting a kiss on his wife’s lips before wrapping an arm around her and walking off toward the parking lot. Leaving me to figure out what to do next. And then my feet are carrying me toward the girls, and Emma. And my brain is sending a signal to my mouth.

“Emma, would you like to join the girls and I for ice cream tonight?”

“Um…I…” she hesitates, almost curling in on herself in what I recognize as a nervous posture. She’s done this before.

“No pressure. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“I think I’d like to,” tension eases out of her body, shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Thank you.”

We walk from the rec center to the ice cream shop, Alice and Emma walk hand in hand ahead of Mackenzie and me. A weird sense of longing wraps itself around my heart at the sight of Alice’s little hand enveloped by Emma’s long, slender fingers. She steps up to the counter with Alice and orders for the two of them, stepping aside to find a table while I order for Mackenzie and me.

“Butter Pecan!” The girl calls from the window, holding out a bowl.

“Oh,” I step to the window and accept the dish of ice cream. “I ordered mine in a cone.”

“Um…I didn’t,” a soft voice calls from behind me. “I think that one may be mine.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks as Emma takes her ice cream from my hands, eyes dancing with amusement as her fingers brush against mine. Alice’s ice cream comes out next, covered in sprinkles, and Emma takes it over to the table with a handful of napkins.

“Butter pecan,” there’s laughter in the girl’s voice as she hands me my cone and Mackenzie’s milkshake. I sheepishly accept my ice cream and sit down in the only open chair left, right next to Emma. Mackenzie chatters away, and I sit and listen as Alice chimes in, asking about the soccer games we watched this morning, and whether or not Emma did too. Turns out my girls and Emma all cheer for the same team.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Emma says softly. “I don’t get out much, at least not since my sister moved and stopped pulling me out of my house to socialize.”

“You’re welcome to join us anytime,” I hear myself saying before thinking about the implication of my words. I would love to spend more time with Emma, but what boundary am I crossing as the dad of two of her students and one of her soccer players?

“I’d like that,” her voice is a near whisper as she responds, eyes meeting mine as color tints her cheeks. The poorly timed ringing of my phone tears my attention away from Emma. I answer a little more forcefully than necessary, and Nate’s voice greets me.

“I know we said no weekends, but we have an emergency and the family is asking for you specifically. An extremely high risk patient was just brought into the hospital.”

“How soon do you need me? I’ll drop the girls with my parents and be there as soon as I can.” I glance up and meet Emma’s gaze, her brows pinched as she watches me.

“I can take them home,” she says. “It would take longer to get back to your car and drive them to your mom and dad. I’ll take them home, feed them dinner, and keep them occupied for a while. Go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop arguing, and go.” There’s a stern edge in her voice as she points at the phone in my hand, a reminder of why we’re having this conversation in the first place.

“Nate. I’ll be there sooner than I thought.” I hang up and pass my phone to Emma. “Add your number and I’ll text you our address.”

Emma takes my phone which gives me a quick moment with the girls. I press kisses to the tops of their heads and squeeze them tight.

“I have to go to work, okay? There are some people who need help, and Daddy’s gotta go help them. Emma’s going to take you home, I expect you to be good,” I level my gaze on my youngest daughter. “Do as you’re told. No shenanigans.”

“Go, Jax. I’ve got this.”

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around Emma, she hesitates for just a moment before returning my embrace and breaking it off just as quickly. I race to my car at the rec center parking lot and head right for the hospital without a look back.