Page 34 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

“Hey, Sophie,” Camille calls out, her hands propped up on her very large stomach. The two friends smile at each other, and farther past her, Lexi and Missy wave.

Obviously, I know that she’s friends with them. After all, I met her because of them, but I still find it strange that it took over two years for us to run into each other again.

“So why ballet?” she asks.

“It was the therapist's idea that she become involved in an activity. While it was important to let her grieve, he said it was also just as important to help her move on with her life. She needed outlets, things to look forward to that would surround her with others and keep her out of the house. We talked about gymnastics, soccer, and even swimming since she loves the water, but she was set on dance and ballet.”

“That’s good that she loves it.”

“I think she does.”

The lights flicker twice, alerting everyone it’s time to take their seats. We sit down in the two tiny seats they’d left for us, and where I can see my friends struggling, I’m hit with the subtle scent of sweet and floral. It smells good. She smells so good that I want to lean into her space and bury my face against her neck.

I turn to look at her, and my heart flips in my stomach. She’s here, and she’s so close, despite the fact that this is Vivi’s night, I suddenly feel anxious.

“Listen, I’m not sure what you have planned after this, but we’re all heading to Bern’s for dessert.”

I know she’s dating someone, but if she knows more people will be there, like there are here tonight, maybe she’ll come.

“Bern’s Steak House?” She gives me this incredulous look.

“Well, yeah. Vivi likes the dessert room, so I made a reservation,” I tell her like it’s no big deal.

I understand why she’s looking at me the way she is. I’m certain most grab something quick, but I want to celebrate Vivi in a way that makes her feel important and loved. And as it goes, her favorite dessert is from the most prestigious steak house in town. Can’t fault the girl for good taste.

“As appealing as that sounds since I’ve never eaten there, I’m actually heading out of town after this and need to get on the road.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks. It’s not like it would have been a date, or I’d get to spend a lot of individual time with her, as everyone is coming, but still. Call me greedy. Call me hopeful. Call me whatever you want. If I can get even a few more minutes with her, I’ll take it. “Well, then you coming tonight means even more. Thank you.”

Her eyes crinkle in the corners as she gives me a closed-mouth smile. A smile that really wants to draw my eyes to her lips, but I keep them locked on her.

“And if you ever find yourself hungry and craving a good steak and a glass of wine, I’d love to take you. You have my number,” I tell her as the lights go out. I had to throw that out there. I want her to know that my invitation to take her out is still open.

Next to me, she crosses her legs so her foot rests up against the outside of my leg. I know I should move and give her more space, but honestly, the seats are too small to move anywhere, and I’ll take any contact I can get.

Nerves race through me as the first group of little girls take the stage. The music is a famous piano medley that I should know but don’t. I recognize the tune but not what it is, and as the piece escalates, so do my nerves. I want this to go well for Vivi. She’s worked hard, and she loves it so much.

I can feel it when Sophie looks at me, but right now, I can only focus on the stage. I can only handle one large emotion at a time, and this moment is about Vivi. My hand tightens around the bouquet I’m holding. It’s then that I glance down the row and realize all the guys on my team have brought her flowers. A lump rises up in my throat, and I have to swallow it down.

When Vivi’s group takes the stage, I pull up my phone and start taking pictures. I know one of the other guys will get the recording, but I need one of her in the cutest little ballet outfit. They wear pale-blue leotards and tutus for this performance, with the standard pink tights and pink ballet shoes. Sure enough, all twelve little girls have their hair pulled back slick into a bun, with some royal-blue feathered thing sticking off their heads.

We’re easy to spot in the crowd, as we’re taller than most, and as they take their place, she finds me and gives me a small smile. She’s easy to spot too as she’s in the front row.

I wave, and her cheeks turn red. She then forgets about me as she finds Kelli at the foot of the stage.

The music starts, and the girls fluidly move, performing their routine.

These moments always feel so large for me, and I struggle with staying in the moment and the enormous amount of grief that threatens to take over. I’m so proud of her. I know what I’m feeling is what a parent feels for their child when they’ve worked hard for something, and you see them accomplishing their goals. But at the same time, that wave of grief always hits me because John will never see these moments. He will never see how brave, beautiful, kind, and smart she is.

My eyes blur for the unfairness that life afforded him, and Vivi too. While I would never be anywhere else but where my Wildflower is, if I could trade places with John, there’d be no hesitation.

I watch as she turns, bends, and changes formation. I don’t know what it’s called in the dance world, that’s a football term, but it’s essentially the same thing. She moves around the floor, ending where she started, and as the music drifts to a close, she folds herself into a final pose.

She was perfect.

And as the other parents quietly clap, our whole row erupts with enthusiastic but polite cheers. Chuckles echo around the theater, but all I can see is Vivi. Her smile now is large and bright, and I’m so full of love and pride, I take a deep breath in to push it down.

As they exit the stage, warmth slips over my hand. I glance down and see that Sophie has placed hers on top of mine. I didn’t forget that she was sitting there. How could I? But I was fully invested in my tiny mini on the stage doing her thing.