Page 92 of The Summer of ’98

It might have been bittersweet that Momma wasn’t here for this moment. But the people who deserved to experience my happiness were. “Can we please wait until I can fit into a cute dress again?” I sobbed as he leaned back and swept my hair behind my ear, the front strands having become damp with tears.

Leroy laughed—along with the others in the room—and nodded as he pressed a kiss on my forehead. “We can wait. This is a promise to make you my wife, Els. Whether it’s this week or next year. I’m not going anywhere.”

We accepted the congratulations of our friends and family, and it meant so much to me that Leroy made sure Amber and Eric could be around for the celebration.

I never wanted to live without him.

That night, at Leroy’s first football game as a college student, I sat in the first row on the bleachers as the fiancé of the home team’s quarterback. They were leading, and whenever I wasn’t watching him rule the hell out of this game, I was staring at the diamond on my finger, pride swelling within my chest. It was hard to believe that this was my life now. Eleanor, Jacob, Noah, Cass, Eric, and Amber were beside me, all equally as excited about how well he was doing.

The pride in Jacob’s expression was about the sweetest thing that I had ever seen. Whenever Leroy made a play that was particularly impressive, he’d ask us all if we’d seen it. He’d say, “Look at that arm, the boy is brilliant.” It made me wish that Leroy could be in the stands to witness it as well as on the field. However, Noah kindly used a camcorder to film the game and that excited me because all of the proud commentary would be watchable later. It was a miracle that he wasn’t sulking about all of the attention that Jacob was giving to Leroy. In fact, he seemed rather proud of his brother and it was lovely to witness.

The time on the clock was almost over when everyone got into formation in the middle of the field. Leroy stood in his position at the back of the lineup, his name and the number twenty-one across the shoulders. The scoreboard read 46–32, Baylor leading against Mississippi. It seemed that Leroy was doing an incredible job leading his team and calling the shots. Considering the fact that there was a constant hum of chatter in the stands, the place was quiet while we waited for the snap. Leroy leaned over, rolled his left shoulder, and then shouted “Hut!”

He caught the ball and the rest of the players collided, their protective wear crunching at the impact as Baylor’s defense tried to prevent Mississippi from getting near the ball. Leroy stepped backward and threw the ball to a wide receiver, who caught it and threw it back to Leroy right before he was thrown to the ground. Leroy threw it to another wide receiver as he ran toward the end zone. Once again, the wide receiver threw it back before he, too, was tackled. It zigzagged between them and it looked like Leroy was going to get it back again, but Mississippi must have caught on because the players honed in on Leroy so that he couldn’t catch it. However, the Baylor running back appeared beside him and caught it while the attention was elsewhere. Mississippi weren’t fast enough to get hold of the running back and he took off toward the end zone, weaving through the offense with ease until he scored a touchdown right as the buzzer sounded the end of the game.

We all got to our feet and screamed with excitement, clapping and cheering as Leroy and his teammates huddled into an enormous group hug. It almost looked violent, people throwing themselves at each other, chest bumps, and slaps on the back. Jacob and Eleanor were beaming from ear to ear.

We met Leroy on the edge of the field after that. His smile was full of relief that his hard work and training had paid off. Winning his first game as a college student was a brilliant first impression, and I knew how glad he would be that he’d done well in front of his dad.

“You were so good,” I said as he gave me a hug and kiss. “I’m so proud.

He winked. “Thanks, baby.”

“Excellent, son,” Jacob said, patting him on the shoulder as Eleanor nodded in agreement. “Brought back a lot of memories watching that. Same field I was on as a student. Same colors. Felt like old times.”

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me that before I went on,” Leroy joked. “That would have been a lot of pressure.”

“We should get a photo,” Eleanor suggested. “Who has the camera?”

“I’ll take it,” Cass said and held her hand out to Noah, asking for the camera. He handed it over and she gestured that he stand next to his mom, dad, and brother.

“I think it’s just the three of them,” Noah said.

“Get in here, man,” Leroy flicked his head while Eleanor and Jacob stood on either side of him, positioning themselves into a picture-perfect pose, the field in the background. Noah sighed but I could tell he was glad to be included. He stood next to his mom and dropped an arm around her shoulder.

“Shuffle over a little bit,” I said. “That way you’ll have the scoreboard behind you.”

Cass nodded with enthusiasm and raised the camera so she could peep through the viewfinder. “Little bit more,” she instructed, and everyone went a few steps left. “Stop! That’s perfect. Okay, smile!”

We took a few more with different combinations. Leroy and me. Cass and Noah. Cass and me. Jacob and Eleanor. The parking lot was still congested when we finally left, cars in a line, waiting for their turn to leave. We’d all agreed to go and get something to eat so we could make the most of the family visit. Leroy and Jacob couldn’t stop discussing the game, dissecting it and analyzing it in more detail than I thought possible. The part that I loved most was how obvious it was that Leroy loved his father’s approval. He’d ask what Jacob thought of a certain play and when Jacob told him how well he’d done, Leroy’s expression would light up, thrilled. Nothing made me happier than seeing those two in their element. It was a bond like I’d never seen, and it was beautiful.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Ellie

Leroy sat at our kitchen table and started toeing his shoes off. It was dark out and I longed for a fireplace rather than gas heating. I missed the lick of flames on a cold night, casting ambient light and offering a comforting warmth.

“Els, you don’t need to make dinner. I’ve told you. I’ll come home and do it.”

I waddled the burritos over to the table so that he could eat.

“That doesn’t seem fair. You spend the entire day at school. I want you to have hot food when you get home.”

He chewed on his lip as he stared down at the plate. “You’re amazing and this means so much to me. I just—”

“What’s wrong?” I sat down, needing to take the massive thirty-five-week weight off my feet.

“Els, I don’t think I can eat another burrito.” He gave me a perplexed expression and took my hands in his. “I’m sorry. Baby, please don’t be upset. It’s just, I’ve had so, so many burritos over the last few months.”

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