Page 23 of The Girl He Loves

Chapter 9

Saturday

My mother is gone,pleased to leave me in good hands. Her words. Not mine. She was kinda right. Not only did Dax fix the dishwasher, but he also oiled the front door hinges and had lunch delivered to the house. Good food, too. Italian. A luxury I rarely allow myself. My kid loves it as well, so telling Dax no when Tyler was so excited to do something as extravagant as getting food delivered to the house would have made me the evilest mommy in all the land.

“Tyler.” Dax pushes back slightly from the kitchen table. He rubs his belly as if to say he’s stuffed. [

Tyler imitates him. “I’m gonna guess that you’re a football fan.”

I laugh. “What gives you that idea? Is it the football-themed jammies he had on earlier, the footballs all over this room and the house, or the incessant questions he’s been asking you since you’ve been here?” I wink at Ty.

Dax clasps his hands behind his head and leans back. Tyler does the same.

Dax says, “None of the above. It was his knowledge about the game.” He faces Tyler. “Talking football with you is like talking to one of the guys on my team. You know your stuff, kiddo. You gonna play?”

Tyler’s hands drop to his lap, and he casts me a look filled with sadness. “No, Mom won’t let me.”

Dax, looking shocked, says, “What? Why?”

I don’t want to go into my reasons because they’re none of Dax’s business. So instead, I shrug. “I have my reasons.”

Tyler grunts with dissatisfaction. “It’s because she’s afraid I’ll have a seizure.”

Understanding crosses Dax's face. “That’s what you need medicine for?” He cuts his eyes to me, and I nod.

How silly of me to think a kid could hold back information. Kids are, if nothing else, honest by default.

I say to Tyler, “It’s not that I think football will cause a seizure. We’ve had this talk before. What if you have a seizure on the field while people are rushing after you? Or you’re trying to catch the ball? And what about the collisions? Ask Dax here why he doesn’t play anymore. It’s because he’s taken too many hits to the brain.”

Tyler bows his head sadly. “And my brain already has problems.”

How do you tell your kid that epilepsy is okay? Or that being smart enough to know you’re slower than the other kids but don’t know why is okay, too? I drop to the floor next to Tyler’s chair and pull him around to face me.

“There is so much that you can do. You’re smart and funny, and like Dax said, you know your football. Look at him, he’s not even playing anymore. But he can use his football knowledge to do so many other jobs in the football field. He can coach or run a team, or with such a pretty face, he can be a sportscaster. Now they use computer guys to run analytics even. And you have those options, too. Remember, we talked about that? And there are people who help rehab the injured players. There are so many jobs in the field of football. And you can do any of them.”

“Except play.” His eyes are moist.

Oh, my heart, this kid. Am I being worked over a little? Yep. But I have to give him credit, he’s persistent. And I know where this conversation is going. He wants to play flag football. Tyler may have epilepsy and a processing disorder, but he’s clever. This little scene, while he’s sad about not being able to play contact football, is about getting to play any type of football. He’s been working me for a while now.

I say, “Maybe we can look into the flag football team.”

His face lights up like I just handed him the keys to Disney World. “Really?”

“We can talk to Uncle Doug and the coach and see what they say.” I make a silent prayer that the league rules wouldn’t automatically exclude Tyler because of his medical condition.

Dax slaps his hand on one knee. “Well, if that’s the case, we should go out in the yard and practice some plays.”

Tyler leaps up. “Seriously? I’ll go get my shoes.” He dashes from the room.

Still squatting on the floor, I say, “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

He shakes his head. “No way. I like it here.”

I roll my eyes. “But you have no reason to be here.”

He gestures to the surrounding space. “I’ve helped with fixing stuff, and now I get to play with your kid. I think that’s reason enough. It’s not like I’m a burden.”

I stand to stare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why are you here, Dax? What do you want?”

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