Page 4 of Fumble Into the End Zone

“Marcus, if anyone deserves this, it’s you,” Ray Pierce said as we shook hands.

“Thank you, Coach, for everything you did for me and my family,” I said.

“You earned it. Listen to your high school coach. Remember, nothing will be given to you. You’re entering an arena full of grown men with exceptional talent. Don’t ever compare yourself; work hard and show them who you are,” he said.

We exchanged respect with a glare and a handshake.

“All right, I’m headed to bed. You know old folks go to bed early,” my grandmother said.

Every man in the room ran to her side, and she chuckled, “I love a man with manners. Thank you, gentlemen, but Marcus will assist me.”

My former coaches withdrew their hands as my grandmother reached for mine.

“I still got it,” she said, and my mouth parted.

Both coaches burst into hard laughter as she made her way down the hall to her room. I walked my coaches to the door with promises of staying on the straight path. Sitting on the couch, I was finally able to go through my text messages.

Angela

Congratulations. With you being in the League now, I would make a great mother to little Haley.

“Ha,” I said out loud before I blocked her number.

She should learn Harley’s name. Angela gave the best head in Ohio, but she wasn’t wife material. She grew frustrated with me last semester because I wouldn’t make our connection public. Our best conversations included her lowering herself to her knees. We were not in a relationship. Before she knew about my daughter, she hadn’t wanted any children. Funny how her attitude shifted.

As I pushed through the messages, my mood transitioned from amusement to instant regret.

Unknown Number

Congratulations. This is Mom, if you’re wondering. Your brothers are excited to have an older brother in the Football League.

I closed out the message thread and bit down hard on my lip. The audacity of this woman, reaching out to me after what she did, calling herself a mother. I scrolled to the block button and found myself facing the same struggle. A part of me wanted to block her, but another force resting within me hesitated. But why?

Chapter 2

Is it Healing?

Mia Robinson

This is stupid,I thought to myself as I sat in front of a child’s birthday cake. It was Onna’s fourth birthday, and I was struggling. Nathan, my ex, had allowed me to raise his daughter for the first two and a half years of her life. The day he left still replayed in my mind, as if it had happened last week.

“Mia, listen, I know you weren’t expecting this, but I can’t keep pretending to be a family with you. Onna doesn’t deserve a broken household. Latrice and I never tried to be a family but it’s time we explored the possibility,” Nathan said.

I stood in the doorway, eyes filled with tears, my vision blurred as I watched him zip his suit jackets into his black wardrobe bag.

“Latrice and I would prefer you to stop contacting me and Onna. Having her call youmomwas out of line, Mia,” Nathan continued as he gripped his luggage.

The air seeped from my lungs as I tried to conjure up the words to defend myself. Onna calling me momma wasn’t something I had coached her to do. During his visitation time, he put the sole responsibility of caring for Onna on me. WhenLatrice needed a babysitter every weekend, she called me and now she was offended Onna called me mom?

Warm tears landed on my skin as he closed the space between us.

“Mia, I’m asking you to respect my family’s privacy at this moment. I’m sure some man will come along and you’ll figure out your irregular period situation. One day when you finally have a kid you’ll understand,” he said as he squeezed by me.

A new set of warm tears pulled me back to the present as I stared at the smash cake. My therapist encouraged me to grieve her birthday as part of my healing process. I opened the number four candle and sighed, placing it in the center.

Lighting the candle, the light flickered, and I closed my eyes and thought of the many birthdays we held at this same table. My favorite was her second birthday. I held her in my lap in our matching outfits. My parents and Nathan surrounded the table and sang “Happy Birthday.” Before the song ended, she pulled the cake on us in her attempt to lick the icing. A tear fell down the side of my face, landing on my hand. Opening my eyes, I begin to sing.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday...” I sang between my sniffles.

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