On Friday morning, the day of the homecoming game, I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. My father was almost never home by the time I got out of bed and my mother was usually on her way out the door by the time I made it to the kitchen. The delicious scents made me confused while my stomach grumbled. I pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt and made my way down the stairs that separated the bedrooms from the rest of the house. I walked into the kitchen still rubbing my eyes.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
I stopped rubbing my eyes, opened them, and saw my mom standing at the stove. She was stirring a pan full of scrambled eggs. A plate sat to one side of the stove containing a pile of bacon on top of a blanket of paper towels. Another plate was already on the kitchen table, holding a precarious stack of pancakes. The table was set for two, with forks, knives, plates, and cups of coffee and orange juice.
“I was just about to wake you,” said my mom. “I told my boss I’d be late for work today. I wanted to make you a special breakfast for your big day today.”
I walked towards her and my mom set the spatula down. She opened her arms, wrapped them around me, and gave me a hug. My mom and I had always been pretty close, but I honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had hugged me like that. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. She smelled like shampoo and breakfast. I let go and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to the eggs.
“Please put the bacon on the table and sit down, the eggs are nearly done.”
I grabbed the plate of bacon and brought it to the table. I sat down and grabbed a slice to much on while I waited.
“Your father said to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here for breakfast. He said he needed to get a jump on the day’s business so he could be home in time to watch the game.”
My father traveled for his job and was away more days than he was at home. For as long as I could remember, home life was pretty much just me and mom. It didn’t bother me that much, especially since when dad happened to be home for dinner it was a special occasion and mom would generally make something really good for dinner. I was happy to hear that he would be home in time to watch the homecoming game tonight. The team had been trying out my play in practice all week and Jerrad said there was a good chance we’d use it in the game against Tall Timber.
Mom walked over to the table with the pan of eggs. She deposited a healthy scoop onto my plate and put a small portion on hers. She set the pan onto a crocheted potholder shaped like flower. I took a couple pancakes off of the stack and a few slices of bacon and put them on my plate.
“Thanks mom,” I said.
“No problem, honey. I won’t be able to give you a good dinner before the game tonight, so I figured a nice breakfast would have to do.”
“It’s perfect, mom.”
“Are you excited for tonight?”
“A little,” I lied.
Tonight’s game was my chance to show that I was more than just a strong player. It was my opportunity to display my skill at strategy and planning. As happy as I was to become good at football, I could never really feel proud for my accomplishments on the field. Growing muscle and being bigger than most of my classmates was not an achievement. It was simple biology. Learning to run, juke, and handle the ball was challenging at first but it became so natural to me that I didn’t really see it as anything special.
“Well, I know you are going to play very well tonight,” mom said with a smile. “I can’t wait to watch.”
I smiled at my mom and poured some syrup on my pancakes.
“Did I tell you that Jerrad is going to run one of my plays tonight?”
“You mentioned something about it earlier this week.”
“It’s going to be great,” I said with a mouth half full of pancakes and bacon. “Tall Timber wins games with the sheer size of their linemen and the speed of their running back. I found a way to use that size against them in the offense and I gave some advice to the defensive coach to mitigate their fast kid.”
“Sweetie, I’m happy to see you get so excited. I’m sure your plays will be wonderful.”
It was pretty obvious that my mother didn’t understand what I was talking about but it was nice to have her support nonetheless.
“Oh crap,” I said after catching a glimpse of the clock on the microwave. “I gotta get ready!”
I shoved the last bite of eggs into my mouth and grabbed two slices of bacon to go. I stood up, smiled at my mom, and ran up the stairs to my bedroom.
All week, many of my classmates had been dressing up for the “spirit” days. I had declined to participate but today would have to be an exception. “Pathfinder Spirit Day” meant wearing school colors and I wouldn’t need my Stone Temple Pilots shirt to qualify this time. I put on jeans and a white t-shirt and then slipped my red “away” jersey over the top. After I tied on my sneakers, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I saw our team name spelled backwards over my chest but my uniform number was the same backwards and forwards. For as long as I could remember, my favorite number was eight and the number “88” fell into the range of uniform numbers set aside for backs and ends.
Most days I would barely notice what my reflection looked like but today was special. I made sure I didn’t have food or toothpaste on my face and ran my fingers through my hair one more time before I considered it good enough and went downstairs again.
When I entered the kitchen, I noticed that mom had cleared the table and was pouring coffee into one of the mugs with a lid that she always took to work. She was wearing a red sweater with a compass embroidered on the front surrounded by the words “Kiln Valley Booster Club.”
“Is it spirit day for you too,” I asked her.
She turned and smiled at me, “You better believe it.”
“Do you need the car?”
“No, honey,” my mom said. “You go ahead, I can take the next bus and still make it to work before nine.”
“Thanks mom,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight!”
In my excitement, I pushed the front door open a little too hard and it banged against the stopper. My dad installed the stopper to keep the door from hitting the porch swing that hung next to the front door. Most mornings, Nicole would be waiting for me in that swing and she would either ride with me in my car or walk with me to the bus stop. She had not been waiting for me all week and I was disappointed but not surprised to see the swing was empty again today.
Being slightly deflated by her absence, I walked to the station wagon and unlocked the driver’s side door. I turned and took one more look at Nicole’s house before sitting down and shutting the door. I put the key into the ignition and turned. After a couple whining turns, the engine caught and rumbled to life. I waited for warm air to start coursing out of the vents before I pulled out of the driveway. The mornings and evenings were starting to get really cold and my breath had the tendency to fog up the windshield if I didn’t let the car get warm first.
I glanced at the passenger seat, where Nicole should have been. The only thing sitting there was my backpack. I had no need to bring it into the house last night since the teachers never assigned homework to football players on the night before a game. Without Nicole to talk to, it was too quiet in the car. I looked at the radio and found a cassette tape was sticking halfway out of the deck. I pushed it back into the radio and Mike Doughty’s awkward rap began to fill the car with words just as the vents started to push warm air across the glass of the windshield.
I put the car in reverse, released the emergency brake, and backed out of the driveway. I put the car in drive and began to head down my street. The sky was clear and the sun peeked over the tops of the low trees that grew along the edge of our development. I reached blindly for where I usually set my sunglasses but my hand came up empty. I forgot that I had them on my head when I got home yesterday and they still sat on my desk in my bedroom. I squinted into the sun and steered the car towards the high school.
As I drove, the sun was now peeking through the trees that lined the old highway. The light flickered a random pattern of light and dark into the corner of my eyes. Annoyed by the Morse code piercing my eyes, I flipped the passenger visor down to try and block the staccato light rays. However the visors in our old station wagon were pathetically small compared to the size of the windshield and barely cast any shade on my squinting eyes. I drove the rest of the way trying to ignore the aggravating flashing light and trying to ignore how bothered I was by fact that Nicole wasn’t there.
This week had been such a blur of school, practice, and worrying about my suggested play that I hadn’t given much thought to Nicole. Taking another glance at the passenger seat I was reminded that I hadn’t seen Nicole all week. I had not found her sitting on my porch swing in the evening or given her a ride to school in the morning. I didn’t even see her in the hallway between classes. An entire week went by without thinking about my best friend and I felt ashamed. My excitement about tonight’s game had been dulled by the pain in my eyes from the sun and the sadness I felt from being away from Nicole. By the time I got to school, the Soul Coughing tape had ended and I was feeling guilty and deflated.
As I pulled into the student lot, I realized I must be pretty late since the lot was nearly full. I had to park at the far end of the lot the students called “Butt Fuck Egypt” or “BFE” for short. I parked in the last spot in the row closest to the football field, turned off the car, and grabbed my backpack from the passenger seat. I opened the door and stood up out of the seat. I locked my door and held the button on the door handle while shutting it to make sure it stayed locked. Cars parked in “BFE” were often subject to search by nosy kids looking for cigarettes and loose change. I didn’t have anything of value in the car but I didn’t like the idea of some stoner weirdo going through my glove box.
I began the trek across the lot and looked through the chain link fence at the back side of the empty bleachers. Later tonight, those bleachers would be full of students, parents, and community members cheering for our team. My parents would be there with their red sweaters and red-and-white bleacher cushions. My classmates would fill the student section, their faces red with paint or cold or alcohol. None of that really mattered to me. The only person I really cared to watch me tonight was Nicole. She was the only person in the world I could think of that would appreciate the clever play I wrote. I decided I would look for her at school and make sure she would be there tonight. I quickened my pace so I might be able to find her before first period.