Mattie stepped between him and his dad, thwarting the arrows. She handed him a sack of potato chips and plopped on the couch. “What teams are playing today? Green Bay Packers and Baltimore Patriots?”
Gil chuckled at her attempt to show interest in the sport, guessing his dad didn’t know the difference between teams either. “New England Patriots,” he corrected and set the chips on the table with the other snacks before taking a seat beside her. “You do understand the basic concept of the game, right? Two teams meet in the middle of the field. One side is offense, one defense, both try to gain possession of the ball?”
At her blank expression, he decided to go over a few fundamentals and ended up charting it out for her on a piece of paper.
“Why don’t you leave the girl alone?” his dad said. “I’m sure she’ll catch on once the game starts.”
Mattie opened the bag of barbecue chips and laughed. “Don’t bet on it. When it comes to football, I’ve never paid much attention, not even in high school.”
His dad lifted the newspaper on his lap. “Sounds like you had more sense than some people I know,” he grumbled from behind the front page, but Gil heard every word.
He stifled the anger that threatened to boil to the surface like his pot of chili on the stove. Why couldn’t his father try to get along? Why did he always have to stir up trouble? Tempted to lash out, Gil bit his words and concentrated on the woman beside him.
She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, her hair still bound in a braid. To his relief, she no longer emitted the anxiety that surrounded her earlier, but instead, seemed her natural self again.
“Did you and Clara have a nice lunch?”
Mattie popped a chip in her mouth, and it made a loud crunch. “Short but sweet. We ate a quick meal and visited until her mother came to babysit so Clara could go to work.” She offered him the bag of chips, and he grabbed a handful.
“She seems like a nice woman. Busy, and I take it not married?”
“Divorced, with three children.”
Gil thought of the toddler Mattie held in the church, barely two years old and cute as a doll. How could a guy give up a great wife and kids? His own family had its share of problems, but at least his dad never abandoned them.
“Clara’s blessed to have her mother help with the kids.” Mattie crunched on another chip.
“Good mothers are a blessing from God — dads too, I suppose.” Gil smiled, then considered his father stretched out on his recliner. The anger that burned a short while ago dimmed. He wiped the barbecue residue from his fingers and reached into his front jean pocket for the watch his coach had given him, felt the smooth metal beneath his skin, and was reminded how precious time could be.
As the second hand ticked against his fingers, the big screen roared to life, and the commentators announced the starting lineup. The players ran onto the field, and Gil’s excitement grew.
“Do you know any of these guys?” Mattie shifted to the edge of the couch and seemed half-interested in the game.
“Yeah, the Packer’s star quarterback for one.” He named the various players he respected or in some cases, didn’t. Within minutes, Green Bay won the coin toss, and the other team started the game with the kickoff. Gil seized the football on the couch and gripped the laces, wishing he could have been the one throwing the ball.
MATTIE NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE ATTRACTION FOOTBALL HELD FOR people, but she wanted to try and appreciate the game for Gil’s sake. He clutched the ball with his thick, wide hands, and she flinched when he faked a pass, patterning his motions after the guy on the television.
“Throw the ball, your split end’s wide open!” Gil rose from the couch.
Last Mattie knew, a split end meant you needed a haircut. She regarded John, curious whether he had any interest in the game and discovered he’d fallen asleep on the recliner, the newspaper a tent over his belly.
On the big screen the crowd thundered as the broadcaster announced first down. Without the televised commentary, Mattie would be lost.
“That’s more like it.” Gil dropped to the couch, football in hand.
“Okay, tell me again what first down means.” She expected Gil to complain about having to explain things twice.