Page 88 of A Game as Old as Time

“I think the bigger question is, why hasn’t Emilio knocked out AG for asking Juelz tonight?”

He actually made himself snicker with that comment, and his mother joined in, pointing out that Ty had brought two girls tonight instead of one.

“Well, you know Ty.” Although he wanted to join in on the fun, Gunner was unable to hold his voice steady. The tightness in his chest was making it difficult to take deep breaths, and he was not sure if it was the pain in his shoulder or the guilt from the night before that was making him struggle.

“I also know my son.” His mom read him like a book and turned in the seat toward him. “And I know when he has something on his mind.”

OK.

His face began to heat up, and he started to replay everything that had been said in the hospital the night before. He briefly caught a glimpseof his sister. He exhaled as he took in her radiant smile and grown-up appearance.

“I wanted to apologize for last night, for everything I said, Mom. I was an idiot and jerk. Peyton was right.”

That felt better.

His mom’s eyes were soft and nurturing as she put her hand on his cheek.

“Oh Gunner, I think everybody said some things last night that they didn’t mean.”

He straightened his jacket, another grimace twisting his face.

“No, Mom. Peyton was right. I just, I mean, how do you do it?”

She squinted, confused by his question.

“How do you move on every day? How do you go through every day and stay so strong?”

At first, she didn’t answer. It was as if she were playing out what to say in her head. However, after a few seconds, she sighed and leaned toward him.

“Gunner, I will never move on from your father.” She grabbed his hands, causing his shoulders and chest to relax. “Your father was the man I loved, the man who brought me both of my babies. My two wonderfully strong babies that have grown up so much.”

I’m not strong, Mom.

He shook his head in disagreement.

“I don’t know, Mom. I mean, some days I feel like…I feel like I’m fine, like I’m figuring this all out.” She squeezed his hand. “But then other days, like yesterday, seeing his face on that plaque, I just…I just feel like I’m lost again.”

He squeezed back.

“And what is wrong with that, Gunner?”

What!?

“You think I don’t have bad days? Do you think Peyton doesn’t have bad days? Sweetie,” she laughed and squeezed again, “I have more bad days than good days.”

He tilted his head, a shimmer overtaking her eyes as she continued.

“Most of the time, you are either at school, football practice, or musical practice. But,” she took her hand away and wiped her cheek, “I still cry.”

Mom.

“And that’s OK, sweetie. It’s OK to still miss him because you always will.”

Always.

“That means he will always be with you.” Her voice was steady, and he slumped back in his seat. “Gunner, I want you to look out into that grove right now. I want you to look at all of your friends, your sister.”

He stared out through the windshield. The people he had known his whole life were joking and dancing around in the grass.

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