Page 41 of Catching Our Moment
“I thought you said he couldn’t play sports. He seems like a natural.”
I shook my head. “He is a natural. He’s very coordinated. And he’s fast.” I subtly wiped away the tear that was escaping, pinching the bridge of my nose as if I were tired. “But he has trouble being on a team. He has trouble with the crowds, with all the noise, and most of all, with the social expectations.”
Shaw shrugged. “He seems fine now.”
The flippant comment seemed to minimize the past twelve years when my son wasn’t “fine,” and my tone turned sharp. I gestured to the four boys. “Yes, this is fine for now, until one of the boys disagrees with him, or a referee makes a call he doesn’t like, or they start to lose because a teammate screws up, or—” I broke off, realizing I was ramping up too much and toned my voice down to explain it better. “He will dig in and not back down. It’s not fine then.”
Shaw looked at me and then at Aaron and shrugged. “Well, this is just having fun.”
He didn’t get it. “It’s fun until it isn’t. It’s like setting him up to fail. Dangling something in front of him that we know will set him off. Yes, he wants to play football. Yes, he wants to play team sports. But sometimes, what you want and what you can deal with are two completely different things.”
I stepped around him as the boys lined up. It was Aaron’s turn on defense. “Aaron, honey, it’s almost time to go. Please make this your last play.”
He ignored me.
Shaw clapped his hands. “Boys, let’s wrap this up, and maybe we can do it again this weekend.”
This was met with a mixture of groans and nods, except for Aaron, whose expression remained blank as he stared down at his feet, refusing to look our way.
Shaw turned back to me and lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds or do anything that would hurt Aaron. He told me on the way home that he didn’t have anyone to play with after school. These boys approached us, and I thought it was a good opportunity?—”
I shook my head at him and waved him off. “No. I know. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just frustrating that I’m always the one to tell him no.”
We watched as the boys ran each other down, and Aaron touched the receiver with both hands. Aaron’s legs were long, like mine. With two parents who were lacrosse midfielders and a grandfather who was a college football player and coach, Aaron had sports in his DNA.
“Then why always tell him no?” Shaw said softly as we watched the boys cheer each other on and compliment Aaron. All seemed more than a little surprised at his athleticism. I let that question hang in the air. “You know he’s a natural…”
I nodded. “James and I agreed years ago that we wouldn’t encourage team sports. He’s tried swimming, karate, and other individual athletics, but nothing has captured his attention. We just thought he’d grow out of it.”
“Seems he hasn’t…”
I let out a huff. Clearly, with a professional tight end living next door to you, losing interest wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
Shaw stood with his good hand on his hip, the wind blowing his hair out of his face, and a contented smile. My heart warmed. He was enjoying this. Aaron was enjoying it. I should be too.
Lost in thought, I missed it when Shaw put his arm around my shoulder and tried to shake off my mood. “I’m hungry. Want to get some dinner?”
“You’re always hungry.” I pushed my hand against his rock-hard abs in the most pathetic attempt to separate us.
Aaron came running over, and the boys walked in opposite directions. “Derrick, Jacob, and Henry asked if we could come here again on Sunday. They have a game tomorrow but want to play again on Sunday if we can come.” He looked up at Shaw’s towering frame and not at me. The fact that he was asking Shaw and not me said more than I wanted to analyze.
Shaw glanced up at me, hesitating. “Let’s see what your mom has planned.”
His arm was still around me, his hand lazily hanging off my shoulder. I faltered slightly as my stomach flipped, and I couldn’t help but smile. How had I gone this long without him? As we turned to walk back to the house, just as I was deciding whether to wrap my arm around his waist, he stepped away, giving us space.
Aaron jumped in front of us. “Can we? Can we come back Sunday?”
“We can talk about it later. How about thinking about dinner? Your coach here is starved.” I resisted the urge to smooth a hand over Aaron’s tousled, sweaty hair.
Shaw nudged my son’s head instead. “You were amazing today, buddy.”
“Thank you,” Aaron said. “Can Shaw eat with us?”
“Sure. I think he mentioned pizza.”
“Why don’t you two come to my place, and we will order some?” he suggested.
Aaron loved pizza. “Yes!”
