Ethan was ahead of me on the stairs, and even though the box he carried was three times as heavy as my own, the distance between us grew as his long legs skipped steps up to the apartment. I scurried inside as he was setting the box down and used my leg to kick the door closed. Ethan stood and took the box from my hands, then lightly bonked the top of my head with it.
“The last box!” he cheered enthusiastically. He held the box high overhead like it was a championship trophy, “we’re officially moved in!”
I wrapped my arms around his exposed sides and squeezed him.
“I’m not sure we can declare us officially moved in until we unpack,” I said with resigned gloom.
I released him and he set our final box on the kitchen island.
“You taught me to celebrate all my victories, mom. No matter how small,” he said as he leaned against the countertop, “and this is pretty big for you.”
“You’re right,” I said, moving next to him and letting my damp forehead rest against his arm.
I had worked up a sweat since I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater to hide my bruises. The inside of my elbow was a sickly green and purple hue from my two plasma donation appointments this week. A new phlebotomist had done a number on my arm and the bruising was significantly worse than usual.
“What do you say to us taking the rest of the night off and go celebrate your birthday instead?” I offered enthusiastically. His trip with Robert was last weekend, but we hadn’t gone out on our birthday date because of the move.
“Oh…” Ethan started, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously.
My heart fell a bit at his hesitation and the fact that he hadn’t been more eager. He was getting older, and mom dates might not be as meaningful anymore.
“If you have plans with your friends already, we can do it another time.” I tried my best to be nonchalant, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
“No, mom,” he started as he pulled out his phone to check something, “I don’t have plans with my friends. I was maybe going to go to a volleyball game but—" His words petered off slowly.
Volleyball? Ethan had never followed volleyball.
“Is it volleyball season?” I asked, confused.
“No but try outs just finished and next year’s team was announced. The old team and the new team are having a grudge match tonight. It’s a school tradition.”
A school tradition he had never had interest in before.
An alert went off on his phone, and I saw a not-at-all hidden goofy grin spread across his face. My mom-detective-mode activated immediately.
Ethan was a handsome boy, and a lot of girls liked him, but I had never seen him smile like that before.
“I think that sounds like a fun tradition. Who are you going with?”
“Uh—” he hesitated, “None of my friends are going so I was thinking about just stopping by for a little, I don’t know.”
This sentence accidentally said volumes. A freshly licensed sixteen-year-old choosing to drive somewhere alone, to watch a sport he never followed before, could only mean one thing.
Ethan had a crush on a volleyball player.
“Well,” I started with a tone of indifference, “I think a date to a volleyball game would be a lot of fun. I mean, it’s for your birthday, so we can do whatever you want, unless you don’t want me there.”
“Actually,” he started with a shy grin, “I think it’s a great idea mom. We can go to the game and get dinner afterwards?”
“It’s a date,” I said, happily. There was a lot in life to stress about right now, but I would absolutely put everything on hold to watch my son’s budding romance story bloom.
“You shower first, so you have time to get ready. The game starts at 5:30pm, so we should probably leave in an hour.”
Since my master bathroom was still unfinished, Ethan and I had to share. This wasn’t an issue for me, but I knew Ethan had his own bathroom at his dad’s. Reaching for the shampoo, my various hygiene products in the shower made me feel like I wasn’t giving him enough space. I didn’t want to infringe on his teenage need for privacy.
Rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, my mind grasped at the hopes that the photo packages I loaded onto OnlyStans a few days ago would start trickling in some money. I could make a little go a long way and wanted to cross the master bathroom project off my list.
Once I was clean, I threw on a robe and went to tell Ethan the bathroom was free. I found him pacing in the living room as he waited. He was nervous.
Ethan’s plan for me to shower first so we were on time backfired. Before school in the morning, that boy could roll out of bed, shower, eat, and be out the door in half an hour. Today, he seemed particularly stressed about his appearance in a way that made me chuckle.
Indecision and uncertainty seemed to be eating at him, because he went through four different outfits as he was getting ready. I had thought the second outfit looked the best, but most teenagers found little confidence in the fashion opinions of their parents. Besides, if he wanted my opinion, I knew he would ask for it.
He eventually settled on an olive-green shirt with a grey button-up knit sweater and blue jeans. The look was cozy, but not informal. I wore jeans and an off-the-shoulder long sleeve sweater, but dressed it up with some ankle boots and earrings to match the tone he set. This was obviously important to him.
Ethan drove us to the game in my old Mercedes. It was strange being in the passenger seat of the car, the sensation of being in such a familiar place but with a new perspective. After we parked, Ethan came around to open my door and then linked arms to walk inside. His commitment to this being a mother-son date warmed my soul.
Raising two sons that were athletes, I had spent a large portion of my life sitting on bleachers in school gymnasiums. As Ethan pushed open the large metal door, I was welcomed by the glossy wood flooring, the pulled-out bleachers, and the echoes of excitement reverberating throughout the high ceilings. While we were a little late for the game, there were still plenty of spots to sit.
As we walked to sit down, I noticed Ethan’s eyes were on the court, but it didn’t seem like he was watching the game. Cursory glances at each of the players hinted that he was looking for someone, but none of the girls currently playing seemed to be his potential crush. He looked a little disappointed as he turned away to lead us to some seats.
Once we sat down, I noticed a couple of girls were staring openly at Ethan. However, when their eyes found me, they all turned abruptly, as if embarrassed to be ogling him while he was with a girl. If any of them had let their gazes linger, the resemblance would have given me away. Our blonde hair, blue eyes, and smiles were an exact match to one another.
Ethan didn’t seem to be interested in any of them, so I didn’t need to be either.
I casually clapped and cheered when Ethan did, trying to discern any changes in his interest as players swapped throughout the game. He was supporting the new recruits, and cheered for their success, but it wasn’t until a specific player came out that I saw his face light up.
She was a tall, athletic, brunette with a cute bob haircut that was pinned up on the sides to keep it out of her face. Halfway up the bleachers, we were kind of far away, but I could still see her shy smile as she ran onto the court. The sight tugged at my mind.
Was she one of Ethan’s friends that I had met?
The back of her shirt read Hernandez 10, but it didn’t seem familiar. Ethan had quite a few female friends, but I was pretty sure none of them had that for a last name. If this girl was someone I had met already, it hadn’t been recently.
Regardless of where I recognized her from, I was certain my detective work was over. Ethan’s eyes followed her everywhere.
It was adorable.
“GOOOOOOOOO JEESSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!”
If his eyes hadn’t given him away, his volume would have. His cheers for her almost knocked me over. A spike from the senior team seemed like it was a sure point, but Jessie dove for it. Her penguin slide save gave the junior team a chance to return the ball, take court advantage, and score two points.
After a few rotations, it was her turn to serve. Jessie aced two shots in a row, putting her team in the lead. Ethan was on his feet both times, screaming louder than anyone else in the entire gym. When he sat back down, his smile was the widest I had ever seen it.
My smile was too, but for a different reason.
There is a certain fear that divorce will make your children stop believing in love or relationships. I didn’t realize I was worried about this until I felt relief at seeing him enamored with this girl. I was intensely grateful that, despite his parents being in the middle of a divorce, his heart still believed enough in romance to come cheer for a cute girl he liked at her volleyball game.
The new team barely beat the graduating senior team, and Jessie had been the one to spike the winning shot. Ethan screamed until he was hoarse.
I wanted to burst for him, it was the cutest thing I had ever seen.
With the game over, he sighed and pulled his eyes away from the court where Jessie was getting ambushed by her teammates.
“Thanks for coming, mom,” he said, as his body language grew timid, “Should we go to dinner now?”
Oh, no. There was no way I was missing a front row seat to this budding romance.
“What is the point of coming to watch her play if you don’t go tell her congratulations?”
His face flushed and he said, “Mom, I don’t know what you are talking about,” but he was already looking at her standing on the opposite side of the court.
“Go,” I told him, as I poked his ribs.
He wiped his hand across his face but stood up to start down the stairs with a dopey smile. I stayed in my seat, wanting to watch the show from the best vantage point. As expected, he walked straight to player ten. When she saw him, she lit up with enthusiasm.
After a tight hug, they stood there talking, but their awkwardness was clearly showing. Even from my seat, I could see Ethan’s hands shoved deep in his pockets while her fingers were nervously intertwined behind her back.
I was prepared to die on an overdose of cuteness, but then I noticed the back of an adult man bee-lining towards the two of them coming from the corner of the gym. The familiar puff of an overprotective father was evident as he approached.
Before I realized it, I was down the stairs and at the bottom of the bleachers on my way to them as well. Unconsciously, I pushed my sleeves up my arms, as if I was heading to box this man.
My son was every father-of-a-pretty-daughter’s worst nightmare. He was athletic, popular, handsome, intelligent, and charming. Which had made fathers unfairly detest him at first.
The amount of “stay away from my daughter” talks that Ethan had tolerated just from the overbearing dads of his female friends this year was ridiculous, and I was sure as shit not going to let this precious moment be ruined by one.
As I got closer, there was something awfully familiar about the man that made my steps slow. He reached his daughter and scooped her up in a hug, then spun her around, strategically forcing Ethan to take a few steps back.
“Daaaaaad!” she screamed as they twirled, and he put her down as she started laughing. His back was to me now, but I had seen him clearly during the charade.
The universe and I were officially fighting. This was an absolute violation of the law of probability. Someone, somewhere had to be conspiring with gods or fates to make my life as complicated as possible.
Apparently, my son had a crush on Joseph’s daughter.
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