Chapter 3 - The Family Meeting
A few minutes later a stadium employee came over and explained that Micah could rest in a quieter family room nearby, then decide whether he wanted to come back to our seats.
I jumped at it. Micah was already leaning his whole weight against Danny.
We followed her inside.
After the roar of the stands, the quiet felt almost wrong.
Marcus set the tabletop game down on a low table. One plastic player fell over the second it touched the surface.
"Cheap equipment," Marcus muttered.
"Bad coaching," Micah said.
Tyler laughed.
The adults stayed another minute, but Marcus understood something before I did. He glanced at the door.
"All right, people. Captain's got a family meeting."
Micah's head came up. "I do?"
"You do now."
Marcus herded everyone out. Vince went last. Danny looked at him. For a second neither of them said a word.
Then Vince gave a small nod and followed the rest.
The door clicked shut.
Just the three of us now.
Micah sat on the couch with the little game beside him. Danny pulled a chair close. I sat down on Micah's other side.
"Captain," I said, "what exactly did you tell Marcus?"
"Nothing, Mom."
Danny pointed at the door. "Nothing? Marcus flew across the country carrying a dozen plastic players and a goalpost that hasn't stood up straight since February."
"They're players, Dad."
"Fine. Athletes."
Micah fought a smile.
I waited.
He picked at a loose thread on the hem of his jersey.
"Why did it matter so much that they were here today?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Because…"
"Micah."
He looked up and met my eyes. Then his gaze slid over to the phone still sitting in my hand.
"They're people from the hospital who still act normal around me," he said quietly.
Danny blinked. "Weird?"
Micah looked instantly sorry. "I didn't mean bad weird, Dad."
"What kind of weird, Captain?" I asked.
He stared at the plastic field.
"Dad stops the game to check if I'm tired."
Danny started to answer.
Micah kept going. "And you take pictures of me eating cereal, Mom."
I looked down at my phone.
"You kept the hospital bracelet from the night I threw up on your shoe," he added.
"That was a memorable evening, sweetheart."
"Mom."
"Sorry."
He rubbed his thumb across the tiny plastic scoreboard. Then he looked at Danny.
"Dad used to yell at football."
"I still yell at football, buddy," Danny said.
"No, Dad. Now you yell, and then you look at me."
Danny didn't say anything.
Micah turned to me. "And Mom used to yell at referees."
"Bad referees."
"All referees."
I almost laughed.
Then Micah said, "That's why I picked football."
The room went completely still.
Danny leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
Micah's face pinched up, frustrated, like we were making him explain something that should've been obvious.
"I wanted you guys to have fun with me."
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"Everybody keeps acting like everything has to be special now, just because I'm going to die."
I set my phone facedown on the cushion beside me.
Micah watched me do it.
Then he said the sentence I've replayed a thousand different ways since.
"Sometimes I just want stuff to be stuff."
Danny stared at him for a long moment. Then he reached over and covered our son's hand with his.
"I'm sorry, Captain."
Micah shrugged, eyes still on the plastic field. "I know you're sad. I'm sad too."
Danny nodded. "I know. But you're still here, Captain," he said softly. "And I've been acting like my job is to watch every second instead of actually being in it with you."
Micah finally looked up. "So you're saying I'm right?"
Danny blinked. "Absolutely not."
Micah grinned. "Too late."
A knock at the door.
Vince stood outside.
Danny hesitated, then got up. "How's your son?"
Vince looked surprised he'd asked. "Home. Driving his mother up the wall."
Danny smiled. "Good."
That was it. One piece of good news Danny finally let himself hear.
A little while later I turned to Micah. "You ready to head home, Captain?"
He looked through the glass toward the field.
I caught myself. "What do you want?"
Micah thought about it. "Ten more minutes."
Danny nodded. "Ten."
We went back to our seats.
No camera found us. No players came over. Nobody handed Micah a signed football.
The game just kept going.
Exactly what he'd asked for.
Danny complained about an awful play call. Micah told him he had no clue what he was talking about.
Then a ref threw a flag.
"Oh, COME ON!" I shouted.
Micah cracked up. "Mom, you don't even know what happened!"
"I know injustice when I see it."
My hand went for my phone out of habit.
I stopped.
Micah noticed. "You're not taking one?"
"No."
"Why?"
I looked at him. "I'm watching."
He studied me for a second, then nodded like that was the only right answer.
Late in the fourth quarter, our team scored. The whole stadium came apart.
Danny leapt to his feet. Micah grabbed his dad's arm with one hand and mine with the other, laughing too hard to get a word out.
The tabletop game slid sideways off his lap. One little plastic player popped loose and landed under my seat.
I saw it fall.
For once, I didn't reach down for it right away.
Micah was laughing. Danny was yelling. I was yelling too.
And the game was still going.
Only after the noise finally died down did Micah look at his lap.
"Mom! My player!"
I reached under the seat and handed it back.
He snapped it into place. "Everybody plays," he said.
May you like
Then my Captain turned back toward the field.
So did we.
