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“And both our dads are, too.” April beams with pride.
She sits with us to watch the rest of the match and she and Lulu chatter over me like I’m not even here. Which I don’t mind.
I thought coming here would be good for me, that seeing my old team and friends would be hard but worth it. And it is hard. And it is worth it. I just miss Pop. He loved to watch me play, to unscrew a cold water bottle and pour it on my head after a match. He would roar when I scored a try. When I was a kid it felt like he could crack the earth with how loud he’d get, how he’d stomp the ground and tell everyone “that’s my boy.”
I wore that title prouder than my jersey.
Lulu laughs her cackle of a laugh and it pulls me out of my slow spiral into memory. April is waving as she takes the bleacher steps down the field. The match is over. My old team lost.
“Want to go say hi?” she asks.
I clear my throat. The team is covered in mud and sweat and smiles despite their loss. And I ache to be down there with them, a dirty, happy loser. “Sure,” I say.
Lulu scoots past me, leading the way down the bleachers. She waves to Marcus, who cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Logan, get drinks with us tonight.”
Lulu turns to look at me over her shoulder. She smiles in a way that makes me think she wants me to go, us to go. I search for Marcus over her head to give him the universal signal for “quit it,” so unlike the last time, I don’t see it happen. Instead, I only hear the squeak of her shoes on the metal, feel the gentle breeze as the fan of her hair blows past my hand. I hear her quiet whimper right before she falls, and then the thud.
“Lulu.”Marcus yells for her.
Her body bounces, like a toy, down the stairs to the bottom. My heart is in my throat. I almost choke as I run down after her, my hands outstretched like I can somehow pull her back up, pull time back.
She lands in a heap at the bottom of the steps.
“Lu, are you OK?” I drop to my knees at her side.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing she says.
I want to gather her to me, but until we can assess her level of injury I don’t move her. “Why are you always apologizing for hurting yourself?” I check her pulse at the wrist.
“Should we get the spinal board?” Marcus asks me.
“I’m fine,” Lulu says.
“Maybe?” I press gentle fingers over her head, testing her skull.
She bats my hands away and tries to sit up. “I’m fine. I’m OK.”
Lulu is flushed, but as her eyes dart around and she avoids eye contact, I think it’s out of embarrassment more than confusion, hopefully ruling out a head injury. “Do you know what day it is?”
This time she’s successful in sitting up. “I’mfine,” she insists, frustration lacing her voice.
Whatever crowd that gathered because of her fall is starting to dissipate. Someone with a cooler full of drinks hovers, ready to offer ice. She’s right, she probably is just fine. Lulu knows her body better than anyone else. “I know the team’s PT. She has medical supplies. Can I have her take a look at you, to make sure?”
Lulu scoots up onto the closest bleacher bench. “OK.” She sighs and Marcus runs off for the team physio. While we’re just a bunch of amateurs, it’s a competitive league and rugby is a rough enough sport that we always need someone on hand to tape muscles, set bones, and assess for concussions.
The physio shows up a few moments later, behind Marcus. “Hi, I’m Mai,” she says. “Is it OK if I do a quick assessment?”
Lulu grumbles her yes.
Mai does the usual tests, having Lulu follow her finger, shining a light in her eyes. She checks her radial pulse, feels up and down her arms and legs for any injuries. “I feel so stupid,” Lulu whispers.
“Don’t. There are people out there who play football.” She leans in closer to Lulu. “And rugby.”
“Hey,” Marcus says, affronted.
Miraculously, other than a few scrapes and contusions that will undoubtedly turn a nasty shade of purple in the next few days, Lulu is unhurt.
“I’d take some ibuprofen when you get home,” Mai says, packing up her stuff after applying anti-bacterial and bandages to Lulu’s shins and knees. Lulu stands and I follow her. Mai smiles at us. “I think you gave your boyfriend quite a scare.”
