"My oldest son’s been shot," she hiccuped and swallowed her tears.
I stood up frantically, "Oh my God!"
“Reggie?” Sam cried at the same time.
"It’s… it's ok." She took a deep breath and pushed the air down with her hands to compose herself. "They said it was a flesh wound and he will be fine, but I need to get to the hospital."
"Can I do anything? Do you want me to get Sam home?"
"No, I wanna go, momma," Sam cried.
"Oh, sweet Miss Metro, we appreciate this so much. We have had a wonderful time, but I want to keep Sam with me. I cannot imagine being away from one of my babies right now."
"Of course," I was nodding and patting my legs, looking around for something to grab, someway to help.
"You just tell Mr. Black thank you for us," she added. "This was an experience we will never forget."
"I will tell him as soon as the game is over."
I started shaking, visibly. Guilt raced through me because it was not my son, this was not my issue. I should have been the one consoling Mrs. Watson. Instead, she noticed my worry and pulled me into a big hug.
"Don't worry, Miss Metro. This may be just the blessing we were praying for. Reggie has been running with the wrong crowds and at this point, I am just thankful they didn't call to tell me he was dead."
We both took a deep breath at her words and separated. Seemed like there was so much trouble in Atlanta these days. I had yet to tell the parents about my own run in with the "wrong crowd" and a part of me knew that was why I was shaking so much.
Why was good news so hard to find?
I tapped the top of Sam's head and gave him a sad smile, "Hope to see you in class, Tuesday."
"I can’t wait," Sam sounded happy despite the news of his brother and I was taking that small sign as a win for today. I just wanted Sam to be happy.
They left quickly and I sat back down, this time alone. Looking around to take stock of the game, I found Ty standing with his back to me and his helmet in his hand. His ass looked so good in his tight football pants that for a minute, I thought about demanding he wear tights in the studio from now on.
He would probably laugh at me and give me shit, tell me, “Hell no,” and maybe insult me. It would be worth it though. Plus, I had a lot of insulting to give him back. Turns out, I enjoyed the banter we created and couldn’t wait to tell him everything he did wrong during his touchdown dance.