Green stretched beneath stadium lights.
Thousands of people moved around us wearing navy and silver Hawks jerseys.
Vendors shouted.
Music shook the concrete.
The crowd sounded like weather.
Caleb smiled.
“Whoa.”
Daniel immediately leaned down.
“Too loud?”
Caleb looked at him.
“No.”
“Need your headphones?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Dad.”
Daniel stopped.
Caleb pointed toward the field.
“Can we just go?”
Daniel smiled.
“Yeah.”
We went.
Our seats were in an accessible section with a perfect view.
Caleb wore his Westmere Hawks jersey over a sweatshirt.
Number seventeen.
His favorite receiver.
He spent the first quarter explaining everything to me as though I had never seen football.
Which, according to him, I had not.
I took pictures.
Caleb holding his ticket.
Caleb looking at the field.
Caleb and Daniel arguing over a play.
Caleb eating half a pretzel.
Daniel watching Caleb eat half a pretzel.
At one point Caleb caught him.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Watching me instead of the game.”
Daniel glanced toward the field.
“I’m watching both.”
“No.”
“You’re checking me.”
Daniel looked guilty.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll tell you if I’m not.”
Daniel nodded.
Two minutes later, he asked:
“Want water?”
Caleb closed his eyes.
I laughed.
Daniel pointed at me.
“You’re taking a picture right now.”
I looked down.
My phone was already in my hand.
Caleb said:
“She can’t help it.”
“I can.”
I put it away.
Then took it back out five minutes later.
Old habits.
The first half was better than I had imagined.
Caleb yelled.
Daniel yelled.
I loudly accused an official of having no eyesight.
Caleb laughed so hard he coughed.
Daniel immediately stopped celebrating.
Caleb waved him off.
“Don’t.”
“I was just—”
“I know.”
“Watch.”
Daniel looked toward the field.
Slowly.
Like someone learning a forgotten skill.
At halftime, stadium staff approached us.
A woman wearing a Creston Field credential crouched beside Caleb.
“Hey, Caleb.”
He looked suspicious.
“Yes?”
“We have a quieter hospitality room available if you’d like to rest for a bit.”
Daniel started to answer.
Caleb held up one finger.
“Do I have to?”
“No.”
“Can I come back?”
“Absolutely.”
Caleb looked at us.
“Maybe five minutes.”
That was progress too.
We followed the staff member through a private corridor.
I assumed Bright Horizon had arranged the room.
Inside were sofas, bottled water, blankets, and a television showing the halftime broadcast.
Caleb collapsed onto one sofa.
Daniel sat beside him.
I reached for my phone.
Caleb pointed.
“Mom.”
“I’m checking messages.”
