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Meghan
“You really aren’t going to come to the game?” Rosie pulled her majorette uniform out of the closet and laid it across her bed.
I hadn’t been to a football game since my father’s death. Going to the game wasn’t as simple for me as it was for every other student on campus. I’d struggled enough with flashbacks nowhere near a stadium. Surely that would amplify the stress and anxiety by a trillion.
“I want to. But I don’t, all at the same time.” I plopped onto the bed as she pulled out her make-up bag.
“Well, what’s the biggest thing holding you back?” She sat on the floor in front of her floor to ceiling mirror, then started with a little foundation.
“My dad. What if it all comes flooding back to me? What if I replay that day all over again in my head. There would be so many people in the stadium, avoiding a panic attack would be impossible.” I pulled out her eye shadow pack and handed it to her.
She turned her cheek to make sure she had applied the paste evenly.
I imagined what it would be like sitting in the stands. The band would play my favorite songs, yet, each beat from the bass would take me one step closer to thinking about dad. The players would take the field while the coach yelled plays. Dad’s voice would replace the coach’s shouts. I’d think of his plays instead of the ones happening in front of my eyes on the field.
“You and Chase have been spending more time together. You’ve held a football for the first time in years. Maybe easing your way back into football is a way to inch yourself closer to facing your fears.” She used a long brush to apply a thick layer of silver shadow to each lid.
The sweat from stress was already developing in my pits. It would be even worse if I were in the bleachers. Thinking of Dad would cause flashbacks to the days he used to take me to every game. It wouldn’t just be sweat covering my face. It would be tears too. I’d have to wipe them away from my face, which would take off my makeup.
No.
“You wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or stay the whole time. You could go, and if you feel uncomfortable, slip out the back. No one will know.” She applied a dark red blush and bright lipstick.
“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on the make-up?” I asked, pausing my nervous breakdown.
“Says the pot to the kettle. Además me veo fabulosa.”
Rosie’s idea could work. I could slip in and play it by ear. Baby steps.
“Okay, so you told me all the reasons you shouldn’t go. Now tell me why you want to go.” She added a little mascara.
The benefits… there were so many. Chase in football pants. That was enough to make me go, already. Chase speeding down the back field to catch a game ending play. His muscles. The sweat dripping from under his helmet. Seeing him. Being close to him. The smell of the field he walked on. Being in the same stadium he was. Watching his dreams come true after working so hard to achieve them.
“It all comes down to Chase,” I finally said.
“What are you waiting for? Try it!” She stood up from her mirror and grabbed her clothes. “I have to go. I hope you get to watch my show during the half. Dios esté con ella.” She hugged my neck and walked away, leaving me alone with a massive decision.
To go, or not to go?
***
Ugh!
Why are decisions so hard to make?
I looked down at the ticket Chase had given me. The game began in less than an hour. If I was going to go, I needed to leave soon.
My father stared at me from the frame next to my bed.
“I know you would want me to go.” I pulled out my pipe from my pouch.
I’m trying.
The disconnect between my brain and my heart intensified.
“No you’re not.” His voice in my head was as real as if I’d been talking to him in real life.
Was I really trying? I’d spent hours and days with Chase. We tossed the football back and forth. Slowly but surely, I’ve inched closer to the line I’d drawn to protect myself from losing everything all over again.
