Page 55 of Waiting for Redemption

Lauren

Leah and I will be there.

Me

He will be so excited.

Shane

They’re gonna win today. I can feel it.

* * *

“Come on,buddy, we’re going to be late!” I call for Hendrix as I finish loading the car.

“I can’t find my other shoe!” I barely hear him yell back. I let out a little groan as I unzip his duffle bag and begin sifting through it. After taking out his extra clothes, snacks, and practice ball—I come up empty and shove it all back in before running back into the house.

“You find it yet?” I call out from the doorway.

“No!” He frantically screams from the back of the house. I quickly look through the shoe basket by the door first, then all around the kitchen before finally seeing little black laces sticking out from beneath the couch.

“Found it! Let’s roll.” Hendrix comes barreling through the living room and snatches it from my hand.

“Thankyou,” he says, plopping down on the couch as he pulls his shoe on.

“See, this is why we are supposed to put our shoes in the basket, and not kick them off like a heathen because you’re in a hurry to watch TV.” I remind him as I tie his shoe.

“Yes ma’am.” He stands up straight and salutes me like a nervous little soldier.

“Okay, we’re officially late. Let’s run.”

“AHHHHH,”he yells, as he runs out the front door. Never a dull moment with this endlessly energized child of mine.

* * *

“Go Hendrix! You got it, buddy. Take your shot!” I know I must look like a maniac, yelling so hard for a recreational team of six-year-olds, but I don’t care. This is the last game of the season and Hendrix is playing his heart out today. His little legs move as fast as they can running down the field and as soon as he’s close enough, he takes his shot.

GOAL.

Our little group immediately loses all control as we scream and shout in celebration.

My heart swells with pride seeing him make his very last goal of the season, but it also sinks with a hint of sadness when I see him looking up and down the sidelines for someone who isn’t here.

Shane is sitting in her foldout chair with her hand propped up on her belly. Taylor, Leah, and Lauren are all on their feet right beside me—since my anxiety is keeping me from staying still long enough to sit in one of the many chairs we have lining the field. Tucker and Max are standing right behind Shane, talking about all thingssportsand shouting“Atta boy”and“Way to stay on it”like the proud uncles they are. But the person I know would be the most proud of him, besides me probably, isn’t here. He hasn’t been here all season, and even though I knew he wouldn’t be, a naïve part of me thought he might come today. Tucker makes it a point to drop hints that he asks how we’re doing and checks in on us, but it’s not the same.

Tank quit his job at the bar shortly after trying to take his own life, started going to therapy, and has been working really hard on getting better. At least that’s what I wastold. About a week after I saw Tank last—the day he quit—Tucker handed me an envelope with my name on it.

“He asked me to give this to you since he doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. Said the letter should explain everything.”

As if my heart hadn’t already broken enough at the hands of Tank, that day my heart turned to ice. After everything we’d been through, we were over just like that, and he couldn’t even tell me himself. I never bothered opening the letter he gave me because I knew it didn’t matter what was inside. If the decision not to see me needed to happen as part of his healing process—if it would help him get better and keep him from wanting to take his own life again—then I was going to accept it, regardless of how much it hurt. So I didn’t read it, because I didn’t want to hurt anymore. Though, I’m not convinced that method actually worked.

When Hendrix stopped asking where Tank was every time I took him to play soccer at the park, and the spark left his eyes on park days, it felt like someone had shoved a dagger into my heart. The ice protecting it had cracked and the pain was back, because we both missed Tank, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

Eventually, the time came to enroll him for fall ball. I suffered the worst case of anxiety I think I’ve ever had because I was worried he would ask if Tank would be there—and as many times as I racked my brain to come up with an answer that wouldn’t disappoint him, I came up empty. Much to my surprise, he never asked about him. He simply told me he still wanted to play and never asked who would be at his practices or games. But in this moment—after making the winning goal for his team—I can see that he’s looking forhim.

I’ve been grateful that some, if not all of the rest of our group has shown up for every single one of his games so long as their work schedules didn’t interfere. He’s always so excited to see them and I think it helps take the sting of whoisn’there away.

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