Chapter 20
TWENTY
Beaumont High made the playoffs, which means the whole town has turned out to a high school field on a freezing night to lose its collective mind, and I’m one of them.
I was told to arrive early by my daughter, with no other instructions.
Of course, I do as she says, and it turns out she wants me to buy a red and gold foam finger as part of a fundraiser for the cheer squad.
“Hi, Mr. Page,” one of the girls says. The others giggle as I smile.
“Mr. Westbury,” I say only because Nick believes one of the girls on the squad is responsible for the spray-painted words.
No one has come forward yet and the water tower remains closed.
It breaks my heart, but I won’t stand for that type of shit being done on my property.
Especially when it’s aimed at my daughter.
“Dad, if you buy a foam finger, others will see you in the stands and they’ll want one.”
She’s not wrong. I count how many people will be at the game.
I buy ten and hope I haven’t missed anyone.
Paige hands me the stack. They’re not easy to carry and I somehow have to finagle my ticket out of my pocket to give to the kid checking them at the stands.
The little shit wouldn’t take my word for it or allow me to come back and show it to him.
I seriously wanted to say, don’t you know who I am, but I held my tongue.
I pick our seats, fifty-yard line, three rows up.
When Noah played, I stayed in the announcer booth out of an abundance of caution.
I tried watching a game from the bleachers, but the fans wouldn’t leave me alone.
It wasn’t the fine people of Beaumont—they literally don’t give a shit about who I am when I’m not home—it was the opposing team.
It hadn’t taken long for word to spread that Liam Page had moved to Beaumont.
Not many people knew I was from here to begin with.
Add Harrison to the mix and the fans were relentless.
By the time Noah and Quinn were in middle and high school, Harrison and I couldn’t come to a school function without security.
Now, I look around and no one cares. Not even the opposing team. If that’s not a punch to the nuts I don’t know what is.
Like a fan, I set each foam finger on the seat. Five in front and five in back. It’s good thinking so we can all talk to each other. I doubt we’ll stay seated like this. My mother likes to be as close as she can so Nick and Noah can hear her opinions.
They love her.
Josie walks up the steps, stops and stares, and then laughs. “You know we paid for those, right?”
I shake my head. “Twice over apparently.”
She extends her hand. I take the thermos of coffee from her. “Is it special?”
Josie rolls her eyes. She sits next to me and spreads a blanket over our laps. “Why did you buy so many?”
“For our family.”
She looks them over. “Who do you think is coming?”
“Mom, Peyton, Talisa, Quinn, Justine, Ben, Elle, you, and me.”
My wife makes this face when she’s about to tell me I’ve been hit with the not so bright stick. She’s making that face now.
“Peyton and Elle have five babies, all under the age of one. Do you really think they’re coming to the game?”
“Peyton is,” I say as I point to Noah. “She’d never miss Noah’s game.”
“And who do you think is going to babysit the boys if Elle and Ben are here? Certainly not Michael. He can’t watch five babies.”
“Um . . .” Honestly, I haven’t paid attention to who has been watching the triplets during the other games. Earlier in the season, Peyton brought them because I remember giving Maverick the play-by-play.
“I’m willing to bet, Elle and Ben don’t come tonight. A duo needs to babysit.”
“Well, that sucks. I’ll just take their foam finger to them later,” I say. I bought one for everyone so I’m going to make sure they damn well get one.
The bleachers start to fill in. I look around the stadium, at wooden banners that adorn the end zone, reminding the other team that Beaumont wins, and we have a deep history when it comes to winning.
My eyes land on the four banners near the end zone.
Four-time state champion, led by me and Mason.
Our names hang there as well. As does Noah’s.
In the sports museum in Allenville, it’s like being in high school again.
You walk in, and there we are. Someone even put life-size cutouts of Noah and me next to each other. Sort of nice to see.
Josie puts her arm through mine. “Sometimes, you sit here and it doesn’t register, and then it does, and you remember everything you did for this school.”
I clear my throat and nod. “This show is doing things to me.”
“Quit if it’s too much. Like I said on our date last week, you don’t owe anyone anything, Liam. You paid your dues and you’ve made amends. The two people wronged, have more than forgiven you.”
I lean into her and kiss her, holding my lips there a bit longer. “I love you.”
“I know you do. I love you, too.”
Josie reaches for the thermos and pours me a cup. “It’s decaf. I figured you’ll be hyped up enough you don’t need the extra caffeine.”
She’s right. I don’t have any skin in this game. However, my nerves are frayed. As a player I hated playoffs. One bad game and your season is over. Everything’s on the line. I get it, this is how football is played but it doesn’t make it any easier on our psyche.
Not to mention, in Beaumont, football matters. Unfortunately for teams now, you don’t want to be the team that didn’t make the playoffs or finals because literally every team before you had. Way too much pressure.
Peyton, Elle, Amelie, and Justine show up, wearing Mack Attack sweatshirts.
They sit in front of us and Josie asks who’s watching the babies.
“The men,” Elle says. “Talisa really wanted to come to the game and Bianca offered to watch the babies. But then Quinn volunteered to stay behind, so I made Ben stay as well.”
“Oh, lordy.”
I’ll be honest, I’m afraid to be alone with the triplets. Or was. Now that they’re getting older, it’s easier. When they were infants, if one cried, the other two followed, for no reason other than to cry. I give Peyton and Noah a massive ton of credit because I’m not sure I could do it.
Talisa and Bianca are the last to arrive. They greet us, take their foam fingers, and move to the front row. I’ve said it before, if given the choice, Bianca would be on the field. I’m just thankful she wasn’t like this when I played.
The anthem plays and the whole place gets quiet and then loud again, and Josie leans into my shoulder and says, “I remember us standing out there like it was yesterday. The same damn cold as it was then worse now because I’m older.”
“Do you still have your outfit?”
She looks at me and shakes her head. “You know I do and no I’m not putting it on for you.”
“Why not? It could be fun. Just like old times.”
“Watch the game, Rockstar.”
Instead, I watch our daughter. Josie’s right, being here brings back so many memories.
Each time we come here, it’s like a different year from high school replays for us.
Paige is a lot like Josie, except our daughter is a lot more outgoing than her mother was in high school.
Mack, he’s a little like me, but he’s a good kid with a good father.
Yes, I can admit the frenemy is a good father.
He’s doing a standup job as a single dad.
Paige waves to us and then turns toward the track for the starting line-up announcement. With every name, the squad cheers, and one of the girls does a flip down the track.
“That girl is going to hurt herself,” Josie says, watching Paige lead a cheer with half of her while the other half stays locked on the quarterback.
“I agree.” Paige should be watching her squad, but her head is turned toward the field.
I don’t want to embarrass her and yell for her to get her head in the game, but also, I do.
If she’s not paying attention to the squad and her responsibilities, then she’s not doing her job and can not only hurt herself but also her teammates.
“She’s in love,” Josie says with a sigh. “I get it because I was there.”
“She can be in love after the game.”
“If only we could turn our hearts off.”
Yeah, I’m not touching that comment because I know exactly where it will lead.
On the sideline, Noah wears a headset and has a call sheet in his hand.
He folds it and tucks it into his back pocket.
I’ve seen him at every stage of his football career, except for early on, and have never been prouder.
Yeah, my son led his team to the Super Bowl, but coaching young impressionable minds takes a lot of patience and knowledge. These young men are lucky Noah’s there.
Nick stands next to Noah. They’re talking, likely about a game plan that may have changed with the line-up the opposing team put out there.
I’m not jealous. I’m appreciative my son has that kind of bond with Nick.
It took a lot out of me early on, but Noah’s better for it.
This is what co-parenting is like even when there’s zero legal obligation from either party.
Beaumont High takes the field and the crowd roars. Everyone stands, foam fingers waving in the air, and chants of, “Let’s go, Beaumont,” echo through the stadium. We’re loud, proud, and hungry for this win.
Mack takes the first snap, drops back, and launches a deep throw down field, hitting his receiver mid-stride.
“Beaumont scores! Beaumont scores!” the announcer yells into the microphone. The entire homestand crowd erupts in cheers. Three rows down my mother is on her feet hollering Mack’s name and pumping her fist in the air.
In front of us, Amelie jumps up and down, screaming her brother’s name. She’s got Mack’s number painted on her cheek and keeps looking at Josie and me with glee in her eyes. I give her a high-five and continue cheering.
“Did you see that, Uncle Liam?”
“I sure did.” I point to the mini-Jumbotron. Showing Mack’s face. Amelie cheers louder.