The next day, the boys head off early for training, and I spend some time cleaning up. I even chance to make a meal for when they return. Itâs met with much enthusiasm.
Iâm too sore for more sex, so Iâm treated to many cuddles while we watch TV and a load of kisses too.
Friday is the day of the game, and there is frantic energy in the house as they all get ready to leave. As we pile into the trucks, I realize that I have no idea who theyâre playing. When Donovan tells me itâs my college team, my heart sinks.
I never told them that the father of my baby plays ball too. They had no reason to know that coming to watch this game would be a nightmare for me.
How will I deal with seeing Justin? We havenât spoken since the day he punched the wall. Cathy knows everything now and has probably been tearing him a new one ever since. But maybe itâll be okay. There are going to be so many people there. I can hide among the crowd, and Justin wonât even know Iâm there. I swallow against the nerves that have tightened my throat, trying to maintain an even expression. This day is about my boys. Itâs about them doing their best in front of the scouts so that they can fulfill their dreams and make Dad proud.
The crackle of nervous anticipation coming off them all has me edgy by the time we get there. I have a ticket for a seat close to the field, and they leave me to head to the changing rooms. Iâm one of the first to take a seat, and I glance around, feeling like a fish out of water. This is the boysâ college. I wonât know anyone here. In my purse, my phone vibrates. When I reach in to grab it, I see Cathyâs name flash across the screen.
, the message says, and as cold dread settles inside me, a shiver runs over my scalp. Is she here?
I donât want to look, but how can I not? If sheâs sitting behind me, Iâd want to know. I try to look out of the corner of my eyes, turning my head only slightly. Itâs not hard to spot them on the other side, waving as though theyâve seen an old friend, except thatâs not what this is about. This is about letting me know that they know where I am. Cathyâs vindictiveness isnât new. Sheâs renowned for taking poor unsuspecting people and grinding them into the dirt with her viciousness.
Oh God.
I donât want to see her. I donât want to get embroiled in a slanging match. I donât want her to humiliate me in front of my boys, and I donât want her to know what Iâm involved in here. The gossip swirling about the baby is enough. Adding a polyamorous relationship would just push it over the edge. Plus, Mom would find out for sure, and sheâd hit the roof.
Iâm sweating as my thoughts churn. I should have stayed at the house. I should have made my excuses, but the boys are so excited that Iâm going to be here cheering for them. I couldnât let them down.
My phone buzzes again.
, Cathy messages.
Does she seriously think I want him? Can she not see what a waste of space he is? There is no way Iâd want to put my child through having a flake for a father. Kids need reliable parents who donât drop in and out of their lives at the drop of a hat. They donât need to be left to feel less-than because their parent canât deal with adult-level responsibility. I guess sheâs so possessive of him out of her own insecurity. Or maybe Iâm too kind, and itâs just a special level of crazy that motivates her. Who knows! All I do know is that when this game is done, Iâm running out of here as fast as I can. I can get lost in the crowd and find somewhere for the boys to collect me thatâs away from here.
The stadium slowly begins to fill, and with it, the anticipation of the game builds. Thereâs music, and the boysâ college cheer team is out in force with their barely-there costumes and megawatt smiles. I recognize a few of the girls from the party, Briana and Candy.
I end up sitting among college students, some of whom are friends of the boys. âYouâre Maggie, right?â the girl to the left of me says.
âYes.â
âIâm Aubry. Gordon told me youâd be here. He told me to look after you.â She flicks her auburn hair thatâs glossy and full. Maybe thatâs why she was given her name.
âThatâs sweet. Thanks.â
âDo you like football?â She takes a bite of her hotdog, gesturing toward the field.
âThe men in tight pants make it bearable.â
Aubry laughs and nods her head with wide, expressive green eyes. âThe tight pants are all most of us girls are here for,â she says. âAlthough a lot would deny it.â
âIâm stressing,â I say. âThe boys were all really wired before we got here. This game means a lot, not just the result but how they play. And there is so much conflict between Gordon and Cox.â
âI heard about the party,â she says. âShawna told me you stepped in to stop it escalating.â
âMen arenât good at keeping calm when their egos are being threatened.â
âEspecially the pumped-up athletic ones.â
âI think Cox is taking something⦠heâs so huge, and the anger there just doesnât seem natural.â
Aubry looks thoughtful, her eyes drifting to where the players are starting to run onto the field. The stadium erupts. In my hand, my phone buzzes again, and instead of cheering my boys on and watching all the preliminaries, instead of internally praying that they do their best and that luck is on their side, my attention is drawn back to more messages from Cathy.
By the time I get to the last word, I feel sick to the very pit of my stomach. I know her words are terrible. I know that no one should ever say such horrible things to another person. I even know that some of it isnât true, but some of it is. Some of it slices my heart because itâs things I tell myself. Itâs things that I feel deep in my own soul. Desperate⦠slut⦠didnât love you⦠never wanted you⦠pathetic. Itâs like she read all my deepest fears and regurgitated them back to me.
Words shouldnât have the power to slay, but they do. They slice through all the protective barriers we put up. They destroy all the tentative feelings of hope that we weave for ourselves.
âAre you okay?â Aubry asks softly. My hand that is still clutching the phone is trembling and I feel cold, as though all the blood has fallen from my face.
âYes,â I whisper, but it doesnât sound convincing. Aubry doesnât know me, though, and she doesnât push against my denial.
âLook, thereâs Gordon⦠heâs waving.â
I glance up, and there he is. I canât see much of his face, just the dark smudges heâs painted under his eyes, but his hand is waving as though his life depends on it. Aubryâs waving, but I check behind me to make sure heâs not looking at someone else. No, just us. I wave back tentatively and then stop quickly because I donât want Cathy to notice. I donât want her to know anything about the boys.
Gordonâs arm drops, and I immediately feel terrible. My priority should be them, not some awful specter from my past. I see him jog into a huddle, and then more helmeted heads turn in my direction. Even without seeing their expressions, I know theyâre worried. Weâre too tuned into each other not to know when somethingâs wrong.
âI hope theyâve got their heads on straight,â Aubry says. Next to her, another girl shouts encouragement onto the field. Thatâs what I should be doing. The boys need to know Iâm their biggest cheerleader, but instead, I feel trapped.
My eyes are drawn to the opposing team, drawn to Justin like magnets. Heâs strutting. All the arrogance and confidence he exudes used to be a turn-on but not anymore. Now he looks more like a turkey than a desirable man. Heâs so much lesser than my foster brothers that itâs laughable.
Cathy is fighting for this joke of a man who would punch a wall rather than deal with his responsibilities, and on this field, there are eleven men who would push him out of the way to take on his responsibilities. Itâs shameful.
But these good men shouldnât have to pick up the pieces. They shouldnât be lumbered with someone like me.
Tears burn at my throat, so I pull a bottle from my purse and take a big drink of water. Iâm sweating too, the prickle beneath my armpits so uncomfortable that I have to move my arms. Play starts, and my foster brothers are playing offense. With each play, they gain ground, and inside, Iâm cheering for them. Iâm praying for them. I will the universe to take note of how much they deserve to win and make it so.
Logan is playing quarterback, his strong, agile body swathed in the huge shoulder pads that go some way to protecting him against the huge defense of the opposing team. The skill he shows in his evasive movements and throws is mesmerizing. Hunter is further forward, his bigger frame combined with speed, making him the perfect tight end. They make the play seem easy, and for a while, I relax into watching them.
As they stretch further ahead on the scoreboard, Cathyâs messages start again.
I try to fix my attention back on the game. Itâs only the end of the first quarter, and my nerves are frazzled.
âTheyâre playing well,â Aubry says. âI think they have a good chance of winning this game.â
âDonât speak too soon,â the girl next to her says. âYou know how easily these games can switch.â
âTrue. Logan is doing good, but I wonder if Coach will bring Sean in later in the game.â
âIs that what usually happens?â
âSometimes. I guess it depends on how Coach is feeling about the state of play. Seanâs so gorgeous. I just love watching him play. That ass in those tight pants. He could crush walnuts with those glutes.â
I nod in agreement, even as my heart drops into my stomach. Aubry doesnât know whatâs going on in our house. She has no idea that sheâs talking about someone who I care about, someone who has been inside my body and held me in his arms. The violent surge of jealousy I feel isnât fair to Aubry, but I canât help it. My hand clenches so tightly that my fingernails cause painful crescents in my skin. I start thinking about all the other amazing women there are in the world that could make my foster brothers happier than me. They could have their own lives, their own women whoâd give them their own families. Theyâre saying that they want a relationship with me, but what do they know? Theyâre so young. They donât know me well enough. They feel sorry for me because of all the things that Cathy has rightly pointed out.
I imagine Sean leaning down to kiss Aubry. Heâd tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and graze her lips with his in a teasing whisper of a kiss. Heâd smile against the skin of her neck while he whispered all the dirty things that heâd like to do to her when theyâre alone. Maybe theyâd get married, and heâd make love to her, filling her with babies, raising his family with the hard work and dedication I know he gives to everything he does.
My heart is pierced by my own thoughts.
The game continues, and the team switches into defense. I spot John and Reggie, and the triplets. The more physical the game gets, the harder it is for me to watch. The impacts they take to their bodies must bruise, and it breaks my heart. Those bodies were mine for a time. Those bodies were perfect and beautiful, and now theyâre getting pummeled.
I donât like this game. I donât like the way they have to suffer for their passion. I hate the way Justin is getting the run around them. Justinâs team scores, and I want to scream. He doesnât deserve to steal glory from my foster brothers. He should be forced to hide in their shadow.
Cathy is screaming her support, celebrating like a mad thing when they get closer to equalizing, but itâs only temporary. Itâs as though the more fired up she gets, the worse her vitriol becomes.
I have no way of knowing if her words are true, but they still sting like the landing of a whip against tender skin.
Even though I know that is nothing even close to the truth, I still flush with embarrassment. Is this what sheâs spreading at college? I can never go back there.
âCome on!â Aubry shouts. Sheâs up and out of her seat, and so is her friend. All around me, theyâre shouting the names of the men that had given me hope that my life could change.
The second quarter ends, and I feel a wave of nausea that beats anything Iâve ever felt before. I taste bitterness, and my mouth fills with saliva. Iâm running from my seat in seconds, frantically scanning for the nearest bathroom. I donât know how I make it, but I do. After, I wash my mouth out in the sink and pat my face with a paper towel.
In the mirror, my face is gaunt and tired. My skin seems pallid, and my eyes shadowed beneath by stripes of purply blue. When I glance down, my hands are shaking. I know that itâs partly from the shock of being sick, but thatâs not the only reason. My racing heart is caused by adrenaline. Everything in me is screaming to run.
I could leave now. There must be an information desk here for me to find out about bus routes. I could get home before the boys and pack up my things. I could go back home and lock myself in my bedroom to hide from the world. Itâs what I want to do because everything else seems too hard. But if my foster brothers come out and see my seat empty, theyâll worry. Itâll mess with their heads when they need to have all their focus on the game. Iâm not a selfish person, and there is no way that Iâd willfully do something that I know would hurt them that way. I want whatâs best for them, whether itâs whatâs best for me or not.
The walk back to my seat is filled with dread. I donât check my phone anymore, just leave it in my purse. Cathyâs said enough.
Play continues, and I try to focus on my boys. I cheer along with Aubry and the rest of their friends. My heart is in my mouth as the scores keep edging upward, always too close to call. As Logan is pulled out, the crowd claps its appreciation, and when Sean is brought on in his place, the crowd roars enthusiastically. Aubry is right about his ass in those tight pants.
I try to forget all the self-doubt swirling in my head and concentrate on the game, and for a while, I achieve it. I find the reason that all these people are here cheering for these teams. When you care about the people playing football, itâs possible to get lost in their struggle for yards and their battle for a ball. Itâs possible to get lost in the physical fury of it and the mind-bending skill.
My foster brothers are a dream team, and whatever it was that my dad did to help them achieve this sporting prowess, I am momentarily in awe. Surely the scouts in the crowd will see that they each deserve a shot at glory in the NFL. There isnât a player on that team who isnât working one hundred percent.
âI think they might do it,â Aubry gasps as the clock counts down the final quarter. Sean is struggling for space, weaving in and out of men who look like brick walls, his arm poised to throw. Harleyâs there, and for a split second my mind blocks out all of the shouting and cheering, and there is just the two of them, surrounded by scrambling bodies thudding into each other like monster trucks and the perfect arc of the ball.
Aubry is off her seat, screaming at the ball, screaming at Harley, screaming at the world, and with seconds to go, my foster brothers achieve the touchdown that wins the game.
Thank you, I say in my mind to whatever power out there supported their glory. The crowd around me is on its feet, but Iâm too pumped with quiet relief to do anything other than sit and watch them celebrate. And when theyâve finished the backslapping and bro-hugs and have been sportsmanly and shaken the hands of the other team, they look to where Iâm sitting.
Eleven faces are turned to me, and Aubry is cheering and waving. I wave back, too, smiling despite all the worry rattling around in my head. This is a moment my dad would have loved to have shared with them, and for that, Iâm grateful to be here in his place.
My purse vibrates on my lap, an indicator of more messages. I donât want to look, though. I just want to get out of here.
âIâm going to wait for them outside,â I tell Aubry.
âTheyâll be a while,â she says. âYou sure you donât want to stay and hang with us?â
âThanks, but Iâm not feeling too good. Iâll go get some air.â
Aubry nods, her eyes searching my face. âIt was nice meeting you, Maggie.â
âYou too.â
There are so many people milling around that it takes me ages to get outside. They showed me where to wait so we can go home together, so I find a wall to perch on and watch the world go by. Couples pass me hand in hand, stopping to talk or kiss, laughing and joking. There is so much happiness in relationships that donât start with challenges.
Maybe some people are just lucky that way. Theyâre born into families with parents who love each other and stay together, the stability trickling down into their kids. Maybe, without early trauma, a person can trust more easily. Maybe that trust is the best basis for relationships, and thatâs why people who struggle to trust seem to fail at this more.
Iâm nineteen, and Iâm already tired. I meet people my age, expecting them to let me down as Dad did. I donât value myself enough to expect the right kind of treatment. I wish so hard that I could be more like the girls dressed in their cut-off shorts and sandals, faces filled with light and hope, the boyfriends on their arms staring adoringly. Instead, Iâm nineteen and pregnant, about to become a burden for whoever will get saddled with me. It shouldnât be Mom who bears the brunt of my bad decisions, but at least sheâs my flesh and blood. My foster brothers are volunteering to shoulder the burden, and really, theyâre nothing to me. We shared a parent in the loosest sense. Thatâs it.
Time passes slowly, but eventually I see Dwayne emerge into the sunlight. He blinks, the brightness startling him for a second, then his gaze finds mine, and he breaks into a smile.
âMaggie, we did it!â he shouts. Behind him, Donovan and Daryl appear, followed by the rest of their brothers, all sharing the same euphoric expressions.
I stand as they approach, forcing down the cloud of my doubts and painting on a smile. âYou were awesome,â I say as Dwayne picks me up and spins me around. The wind whips my hair, and the motion and Dwayneâs laughter momentarily takes me to their place of happiness, and itâs amazing.
Then a voice pierces the air, and my heart seems to stop in my chest.
âTHERE SHE IS!â Cathy screeches, striding forward followed by her minions, and next to her is Justin. His face is dark, probably because sheâs been goading him. She always could twist him in whatever direction she needed him to turn.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here, Maggie?â he says as Dwayne stands me back on my feet. âI told you I donât want anything to do with you.â
âSheâs desperate,â Cathy says, her face contorted into a twisted smile of glee and eyes alight with the power of confrontation. âShe thought she could stalk you at the game, and I wouldnât be here. She wants you back.â
The boys have all stopped, the smiles drop from their faces as they try to work out what the hell is going on.
âIâm not here for Justin,â I say. âI didnât even know he was playing until I got here.â
âOf course you didnât,â Cathy says, rolling her eyes. âYou still canât see it,â she says to Justin, grabbing his hand to make sure she has his full attention. âSheâs a liar. Sheâll do anything to break up what we have.â
âYouâre welcome to each other,â I say. Dwayne takes a step closer to me, an action that feels protective. I can tell he still doesnât understand what is happening.
âHeâs not going to be a father to your skank baby,â Cathy spits. âThat child will grow up as you did. With a single mom on welfare, wearing clothes from thrift stores.â
Iâm about to tell Cathy that I donât need anything from Justin when Sean steps forward, putting himself between Justin and Cathy and me. âListen, you nasty bitch. Maggie doesnât want or need shit from you or this joke of a man hiding behind you. Now, you need to back the fuck off out of here before you say anything else stupid, and I really lose my cool.â
A shiver of dread passes through me because nobody ever stands up to Cathy. Her mouth is hanging open like a fish gasping for water, and Justin looks between me and the mass of men who have all taken their places surrounding me. Iâve never felt more supported in my life.
âAnd who are these idiots?â Cathy spits. She scans the group, her evil and twisted mind working overtime. She knows she just got put in her place, but she doesnât intend on staying there. âThey canât be family because they donât look alike. Donât tell me youâre fucking them too.â
She says it as a flippant throwaway comment, but I feel a swell of dread thatâs almost enough to knock me from my feet. Around me, the shoulders of my foster brothers seem to stiffen. We should all be jumping in to deny Cathyâs accusation, but itâs as if all of our tongues have been shocked into silence.
Justinâs eyes flick around like heâs trying to work out what the hell is going on. Heâs always been good at sizing up situations, and he seems to size this one up just fine.
âOh, hell no,â he says. âYou canât be serious.â
Sean steps forward just slightly, but itâs enough to turn Justinâs eyes jittery with panic. Heâs asking himself if heâs going to have to take on eleven men who are bigger than him, but heâs also riding a wave of anger at losing the game and hyped up by Cathyâs words. âCathyâs right about you, Maggie. You thought I was your meal ticket, and when that didnât work, youâve latched onto these guys⦠these fucking perverts.â When no one says anything, Justinâs confidence seems to grow. âYouâre a slut, Maggie. Youâre never getting a centâ¦â
Seanâs fist flies like a bullet out of a gun, cracking Justin around the face. It seems to happen in slow motion, and there is a collective surge forward as his brothers move to hold him back and make it clear that no more will be tolerated, but as they do and as there is no denial, Cathyâs face seems almost ready to split with delight. Sheâs not even looking at Justin, who is clutching his cheek and stepping back with shock. Sheâs just gazing around at everything, probably imagining all the new and terrible things she can spread about me. Her tongue licks over her top teeth in a lizard-like action that seems suddenly hideous. âYou need to back the fuck up right now,â Dwayne says through gritted teeth.
More of Justinâs teammates drift over, noticing that one of their own is currently massively outnumbered, and I can see that this is going to escalate into a brawl. Out of the corner of my eye, Cox and his cronies appear, and itâs as though thereâs a threat at every angle.
My foster brothers have done everything they can to be scouted today, and this could ruin their chances. No one wants a troublemaker on their team. Cathy and Justin arenât the boysâ problem. Theyâre my problem. I canât bring so much conflict into their lives. âJust leave it!â I shout, but no one seems to hear me. Cathyâs laugh is a harsh hyena, and Justinâs eyes are blazing with fury.
âSheâs really fucking them all⦠look at her faceâ¦â She points in my direction, and I stare at this terrible person who I used to think was my friend. There is a darkness in her that spills out over the world like a biblical plague.
âJust leave it, Cathy. Itâs none of your business.â
She shakes her head. âThatâs where youâre wrong. Justin is mine, and that baby isnât going to have anything to do with him, but maybe this situation will sort everything out. Maybe theyâll fuck it out of you, and itâll die.â She laughs again manically, and for the first time, I see the shock on Justinâs face. He turns to look at her, his eyes wide as though heâs suddenly seeing her for the first time.
Nothing has prepared me for the horror of that statement or my reaction. Everything in my body vibrates with anger, and I run, clutching my purse to my shoulder. I donât even know where Iâm going, just that I need to get away from all of this and hoping and praying that my departure will shock the boys from getting involved with Justin any more than they have already. Surely, theyâll come after me rather than fight.
I find myself in a parking lot and am narrowly missed by a car that honks in a loud stream and sets the hairs rising on the back of my neck. Shit. I turn quickly, but I canât see anybody, and I panic even more. Have I just left the boys to ruin their lives and pick up the pieces of my shitty situation?
Iâm finally out on the road, and there is a bus stop with a bus waiting. I have no idea where the bus is going; all that I know is that getting on it will get me away from Cathy and Justin and the poison that wishes my defenseless unborn child death.