Seeing Shane Gray ✓

thirty four | dreams

*.*.*.*.*.*

November 29

Staring at the lady, I hold my breath and wait for her to speak in her overly-controlled voice yet again. I can tell she's upset and yet she doesn't raise her voice, making me wonder if she's only concerned about what people might hear and not about what she's saying.

"You lost the game?" the lady asks with such incredulity even I can't help but feel ashamed. "How could you lose the game? Honey, this was your big break."

I'm surprised by her reaction. Not because it's unlikely for a parent to be disappointed at their child's loss because she says it like she can believe it. Why is it so surprising for her? Can't her son ever fail at something?

Shane doesn't answer and I can almost hear his shallow breathing.

"Your father will be so disappointed," she says, sighing mournfully. "To think I was here to congratulate you. We have been planning for a celebration for months, Shane."

I risk a glance at Shane out of the corner of my eye and see him staring at the ground at his mother's feet. A part of me wants to speak up and intervene, remind his mother that he's just faced a tragic loss and needs to be comforted rather than ashamed. I don't know how Shane will feel about that, though, so I hold my tongue and try not to feel bad for him.

"I'm sorry I let you down, Mom," he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

The woman sighs. "I just can't believe it."

"I'm sorry," Shane says, his voice so sad. "I'm sorry I failed."

And my restraint snaps.

"It's okay to fail," I say before I can stop myself, my voice more confident than I feel. "I mean --"

I glance at his mom and see her staring at me like she's seeing me for the first time.

"-- you tried your best," I add to Shane who's ghostly pale and wide-eyed. "You worked so hard for this and you played really well. Besides, it's just a game. So what if you didn't win this one? There will always be more."

Relief washes over his features at last and a shadow of a smile lights up his face which I return wholeheartedly.

"You'll go to college anyway, right?" I go on, propelled by his relaxing demeanor. "You don't have to play football. You can always do something else. Something you love and something that makes you happy. Besides, you don't have to be perfect. Nobody's ever perfect."

"Are you Shane's girlfriend?" his mother asks me, either not hear a word of mine or not caring enough about it. By the looks of it, all that matters to her is my place in her son's life and not the impact she has on him. "I didn't know Shane had one."

"She's not, we're just friends." As soon as the words leave his lips, Shane's face falls. He slips his fingers out of mine and takes a step back.

I try not to show how his simple action breaks my heart.

It's not that I expected him to stand up for me. In all honesty, we're technically just friends after all. One simple kiss in a moment of vulnerability doesn't make us any more than that. So what if I'd read more into it? It had been I who kissed Shane. He probably just kissed me back because he's such a nice guy and didn't want to embarrass me.

"And she was just leaving," he adds.

I swallow hard, lowering my gaze to my feet shuffling on the concrete.

"I should go," I say, avoiding eye contact. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Gray."

The woman nods, her brow furrowed. As for Shane, I don't glance at him as I turn away and make my way back to the school building, dragging my cement-block feet forward.