So . . . That Happened

by Laci Maskell

  As more people file into the stadium I can understand why Greyson wanted me to see it. It isn’t about watching random people find their seats. It’s about seeing so many people invested in and caring about one thing and coming together for that one thing. It’s amazing to watch. Never have I seen so many people in one place. Before the game starts an announcer comes over the PA system to say the attendance of today’s game is 92,847 people. My mouths falls open. Looking around me I can see there are a lot of people, but to fathom over 90 thousand people in one place is hard for me.

  Besides the number of the people, the noise that fills the stadium is crazy. The more people who file in the louder it gets. And while I can understand that, it is still strange to me.

  Before the game starts, the entire band files onto the field and plays. The drumline starts them off then they play a medley of popular songs. The music combined with the noise of the crowd zings under my skin. When the band has stopped playing music starts over the PA system. The crowd goes insane, leaping from their seats, cheering and whistling.

  “What’s happening?” I ask Greyson.

  “Tunnel walk. Watch,” he says, pointing to the giant screen on the north end of the stadium.

  And that’s when I see it. The team walks through a tunnel, each one of them slapping a horseshoe hanging from the top. The band forms a tunnel of their own on the field for the team to run through. Before they run onto the field the crowd goes crazier and louder than before. My heart beats hard to keep up with the excitement around me as the team runs onto the field. As before, the excitement gets to me and I find myself cheering along with them. I’m here, I’m having a good time, I might as well join them. I find no harm in it. There are over 90 thousand people doing the same thing, I have nothing to be embarrassed about. Except for Greyson. He might make me feel embarrassed, but then again, he’s pretty giddy about my excitement so I feel I’m safe to act as I deem necessary.

  As the band plays the national anthem I begin to hear a noise of another kind. Out of respect for the song and the flag I don’t want to make a fuss about it, but the noise grows louder. It sounds like a plane going overhead. Then, all of a sudden, three fighter jets soar over the stadium and take my breath away. I may end up going into cardiac arrest before the day is over. Everything about today has been exciting and overwhelming and almost more than I can handle in one day.

  The noise of the crowd and the announcers and just everything is almost incomprehensible. But it’s not harsh noise or so loud it hurts my ears. Rather, it’s a dull roar. A constant flow of noise. Before the kickoff the band holds this sign above them. It’s a giant cloth poster with a large red N, they use to swish back and forth. It makes me smile and be glad I am witnessing it. My heart races. I’ve never felt anything so energizing before.

  The teams line up for the kick off. The crowd goes quiet. The kicker runs for the ball. The crowd begins this roar like aahh and then the ball is kicked and the crowd finishes their roar with and uhooh. I can hear Greyson beside me roaring along with them. I look up to him to see the gleam in his eye. I know he wants to see how I react to everything, but this is nearly his favorite thing ever so I want to see that love in his eyes. It is there and it makes me happy.

  I’ve been to plenty of high school football games in my life, so I know that people sit and stand and sit and stand a lot. But never would I have imagined that it could be such a work out. The crowd here sits between every play but stands back up when the play begins. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t just remain standing.

  The opposing team loses the ball on downs. It’s our turn. The PA plays a song to get the crowd pumped. It’s a song I know. “Can You Feel It” by Michael Jackson. Blood rushes to my head and I feel light headed but so exhilarated. I thought high school football games were exciting. I was so wrong. We have a set of downs. We inch across the field. Another set of downs. More inching until one player breaks away. Touchdown Nebraska! The crowd goes wild, then a butt load of red balloons are released into their air. I’d noticed a few people with them, but by the amount of red balloons sailing into the air, I’d say people know how to hide those things.

  I watch the giant screen to see the replay of the touchdown. After every play I do this. I might sprain my neck, but I don’t want to miss it, even though I watched it happen on the field. During the timeouts they play replays from this and other games. During one timeout the highlights will be of amazing catches. During another they will be of coma inducing tackles. I watch in awe and am saddened when they are over.

  I pull my hands in and out of my new sweatshirt unable to contain my excitement. Greyson stands beside me watching the game but also watching me. More often than not I feel his eyes on me, gauging my reaction to certain things. If I feel his gaze when nothing is happening, I know that’s a cue that something is about to happen. He watches me, but he doesn’t bother me, doesn’t ask me a million times if I’m having fun or what I thought of this or that. I appreciate it. I don’t think I’d be having nearly as good a time if he were.

  The constant roar continues to hum around me, after a while I don’t notice it as much. Until it is gone. A player from the opposing team gets injured and as he is lying on the ground, his coaches and trainers looking after him, the crowd is dead silent. I can hear myself breathing. The crowd claps when he gets up and walks off the field.

  At one point when Nebraska is on defense the student section pulls out a banner like the band had. It is so large it nearly covers the entire student section. This one is black and it has a large skull and cross bones on it and it says BLACKSHIRTS. I look down to my sweatshirt and smile.

  When one of the defensive players makes a good tackle I can’t help but cheer for him. Greyson and I high five each other and a few of the people to the side of us. Someone from behind us grabs my shoulder and pulls me back toward him. I’m scared and thrown off balance, but all he wants is a high five. I slap his hand then lean forward again. My head spins from all the sudden movements. I want to sit down but am afraid Greyson might think I’m weak. I stare at my feet to focus my vision which blurs.

  Greyson grasps my arms and leans into me. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod my head, unable to speak for the moment.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  I nod again.

  “I wanted to yell at that guy but I didn’t want you getting mad at me,” he says.

  “Don’t. I’m okay. I just need a second.”

  Greyson keeps a hold of my arms. The heat of his skin seeps into the sweatshirt and warms me. The sensation helps to calm me.

  By the time I have calmed all the way and feel normal again the first half of the game has ended and nearly three fourths of the people in the stadium leave to go find a bathroom and food. Greyson and I join them. I both need to pee and I’m hungry.

  By the time the line to the lady’s room thins and I walk out, Greyson stands outside of the door with two drinks, nachos, popcorn, two hotdogs, two slices of pizza, a Snickers bar, and a bag of M&Ms.

  “Did you bring an army with you you need to feed?” I ask him.

  “I didn’t know what you liked or what you’d want. So I got some of almost everything.”

  I can’t help but smile. “How kind of you.”

  “Besides, what you don’t eat, I will,” he says.

  I laugh and take some of it from his hands. There is an awkward repositioning thing but he looks like he might lose it all if I don’t step in.

  I laugh when we get back to our seats and Greyson dumps the bag of M&Ms into the popcorn. He laughs when I dip the popcorn into the nacho cheese. I open a hotdog to find it’s one of those red ones that pop when you bite into them. I love these hotdogs.

  Greyson doesn’t look at me weird by the amount of food I eat. I’ve never been one of those girls who only eats salads or watches what she eats in front of people. Besides, I’m already pregnant, it’s not like I’m going to be getting skinnier any time soon.

/>   Before the game resumes, they play music to keep us pumped up. Every time they play “Can You Feel It” I get a little happier. They play the song over a lot of highlight reels and it makes me sad I’ve been missing out on this for so long.

  Sometime in the third quarter the student section starts the crowd off on the wave. I watch it come around the stadium to where we sit. Greyson and I stand and wave our hands when it reaches us then it keeps going. I think it might fizzle out but it comes back around. By the fourth time the wave comes around the stadium it is in hyper drive. I’ve never seen a wave performed so quickly before. It goes around the crowd twice at that speed then slows down until slow motion has a new definition. This time it takes nearly four minutes for the wave to get back around to the student section. That’s a new one for me too. I’ve never seen a wave in super speed and in slow motion and last seven times around a crowd.

  Standing in the middle of this crowd, in the third quarter of playing time, I still can’t believe there are so many people here, so many people who are so excited about Husker football they have no qualms with grabbing people from behind and scaring the shit out of them just for a high five. The whole experience blows my mind.

  By the end of the third quarter Nebraska is ahead by three points. Every play is met with cheers or sighs. There is never silence. Never a dull moment. By the end of the third quarter I no longer feel like a nub but as if I am truly one of them. One of the hard core Nebraska Husker Football fans.

  Halfway into the fourth quarter the opposing team has the ball on the ten yard line. We need to stop them. I don’t want to see a touchdown or a field goal. I hold my breath for every play until it is over. Somewhere between the beginning of this drive and now Greyson took my hand in his and hasn’t let go. I’m not about to remove it.

  The ball is snapped. Players crash into each other. The ball is thrown, right into the hands of a defending Husker. Interception. The crowd erupts louder than ever. The Husker runs down the field towards our goal. We’ve got this. I’m so excited I jump up and down. When I land the last jump I feel a sharp jolt to my abdomen. I stand completely still. What if I hurt the baby? I do a mental check for pain in any area of my body, not just my stomach. I’m scared. Greyson squeezes my hand, but I’m not about to show him my fear. I wait to feel any more pain. I wait for anything. And then it happens again. A small jab to the ribs.

  Tears bloom in my eyes and stream down my face. I didn’t hurt the baby. The baby kicked for the first time. I cannot fully fathom nor express how happy I am. My heart dances in my chest. My head throbs. All I can think is how much I love this baby.

  Greyson squeezes my hand again. I look up to him with tear filled eyes. I’m sure I scare him.

  “Oh my god, what is it? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  I smile at him because I can’t help how happy I am. More tears stream down my cheeks.

  “Lux, what’s wrong. You’re freaking me out.”

  I take his hand and press three of his fingers over the spot where the baby first kicked.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Just wait,” I tell him.

  We wait. I’m afraid with the roar and bouncing of the stadium Greyson won’t be able to feel it if the baby kicks anyway. But we wait.

  Again with the rib shot.

  Greyson’s eyes widen. His fingers press deeper into my belly.

  “Was that? Did that just?”

  The grin on my face hurts but I can’t stop.

  “The baby kicked,” I say.

  “Was that the first time?”

  I nod and cry some more.

  “Holy shit. Oh my. I felt that. Holy shit. That was incredible.”

  Greyson places both of his hands on my belly, I watch him and smile. Both of us have forgotten about the game. I can’t even hear the roar anymore.

  “Hey everybody,” Greyson yells to the people around us. “My baby kicked for the first time.”

  The crowd around us yells and not for the football team. My smile falters for a second. My baby. Greyson said my baby. I look around to see them all looking at me. I smile and wave and feel my cheeks heat.

  Greyson removes his hands from my belly and when I turn to find out why he places them on my cheeks, smiles, and leans forward to plant his lips on mine. His lips are soft on mine. I can taste the salt of my tears and the popcorn on our lips. I can feel his smile in our kiss. I open my mouth and kiss him back. I have wanted to be with Greyson for as long as I can remember and now he is kissing me. And not some cheap kiss at a party when he’s looking to get over a break up, but a real kiss. His lips are tender. They caress mine in the way you only dream of being kissed. This is everything I’ve always wanted and something I can’t have.

  Tears, for a whole other reason than being happy, cascade out of the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks. I pull away from Greyson breathless and dejected. He is still with Amelia and our baby will no longer be our baby when it is born. I knew this day was too good to be true. I knew that once reality kicked in I would regret coming here with him. I think when you’ve wanted something so badly for so long you will neglect all of the bad vibes you get and trick your mind into thinking that you can truly have it. I’m pretty sure that’s what I did. And now I’m paying for it.

  Greyson smiles at me from inches in front of my face like he doesn’t know my internal struggle. I force a smile back at him. I’m not about to be the drama queen.

  Greyson takes my hand in his and I try to put my focus back on the game. But I can’t. My hand feels caged in his. My breathing is erratic. I feel saliva forming at the back of my jaw. I have to get out of here. I need some air. I need some space away from Greyson.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I tell him.

  “Can you wait till the end of the game?” he asks. I look at the clock to see four minutes left. Four minutes in football time could be over half an hour.

  “I can’t. The baby is sitting on my bladder,” I tell him. It’s not totally a lie.

  “Ok. I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” I say too quickly and too sharply. “No. It’s okay. Just watch the rest of the game. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.”

  He kisses my hand before he lets go. I internally cringe and want to run away.

  The saliva continues at the corners of my mouth. I try to swallow it back. Give myself some time. I push through the crowd and rush back into the underbelly of the stadium. I run to the bathroom, slam a stall door out of my way and have just enough time to pull my hair away from my face before I throw up that delicious red hotdog into the toilet. I feel my stomach tighten as the food rises back out of it. My throat burns as the bile tears at it. I throw up again because once is never enough when puking is involved. A sob forms in my chest. I let it out because why not. As if hurling everything you’ve eaten in a day isn’t attractive enough let’s add crying to it.

  I flush the toilet but continue to lean over it to make sure I won’t throw up again. When I think I’m safe I sit down on the cold concrete and cry. I place my hand on the cold concrete then press it to my face. The cool sensation helps keep me from throwing up again. But it does nothing to alleviate the sobs bursting from my chest. In a packed stadium, the fact that no one is in the woman’s bathroom is astounding, but I’ll take what I can get.

  I allow myself to sit and wallow in my pity for thirty more seconds before I get up. I have maybe two more minutes of playing time to pull myself together. I turn on the water tap and fill my hands with it. I splash the water onto my face to cool my cheeks. I cup my hand under the faucet then fill my mouth with it, swishing it around, then spit it out. I do this several times to rid myself of the taste of puke. When I am satisfied I rummage in my bag for a stick of gum.

  From outside the door I can hear the halls fill up. The game must be over.

  I check myself for anything that might give me away then head out the door.

  Greyson leans against the wall outside t
he door.

  I smile at him and say, “Did we win?”

  “We sure did. As if you doubted us,” he says throwing his hands out in a gesture that says have-faith-will-you. “Are you okay?”

  I spread my smile wider so he can’t see the cracks in my facade and say, “Sure am. You ready to go?”

  He takes my hand and leads me out of the stadium. The crowds of people are everywhere and so chaotic. There is no rhyme or reason to the places people walk or stand. I try to focus and keep my bearings but I end up being thrown around. Greyson’s hand is pulled from mine and I lose him in the crowd. I can’t stop because I’ll get run into from behind. Maybe if I just follow the crowd I’ll be okay. I feel a panic setting in. I’m too short to see over people and just short enough to be trampled. I place my hands over my stomach. If I get thrown to the ground I want to be able to protect the baby. My head rushes and my vision blurs. Maybe this is what it felt like for Greyson to have his panic attack.

  My hand is pulled from the side and I’m tossed into people. I’m tugged again until I make it out of the middle of the crowd. Strong arms wrap around me and I bury my head into someone’s chest. I don’t even care who it is.

  “It’s okay,” Greyson says. I can hear his words in his chest. “We’ll just wait. Are you okay?”

  I not into his chest but don’t say a word or look up to him.

  Greyson continues to hold me, his arms rubbing down and up my back. He doesn’t say anything more. I don’t look around but I can hear the crowd thinning around us. I remove my face from Greyson’s chest and look about us. When I feel like we can make our way safely to the car I look up at him. Greyson smiles at me. It isn’t a happy smile, but it’s not a pity smile. It’s more of an I’ve-got-you smile. I wish it didn’t but it warms my heart and brings me that much closer to him.

  Greyson takes my hand and without a word leads me away from the stadium. I’m hungry after throwing up everything I’d previously consumed so we stop back into Raisin Canes. I’m not as lively eating this time around but the food is still amazing. And, if I have to admit it, it gives me at least another half hour to spend with Greyson. I hate myself for it, but if I’m given the chance to spend time with him, I’m going to take it, and pay for it later.