Super Bowl Sunday
Val wore his number 9 Drew Brees jersey, oversize though it was, to Ambria's super bowl party. He hadn't taken it off other than to shower since she'd bought it for him two days prior. "Come early," she told him, "and I'll give you the best seat in the house." The best seat in the house turned out to be in Quincy's comfortable armchair, set to one side of all the action. She'd rearranged the living room since the last time he'd been over, likely a temporary arrangement for the game. The sectional sofa and some chairs were arranged in a semi-circle around the television, with Val's seat being the last chair on the right-hand side, set somewhat back and distant from the other chairs. It was close to the hallway that lead to the bathroom. He knew this was not a coincidental arrangement. The way she told him to come before the other guests, and the way she'd provided both a lap blanket and a pillow on his chair while all the others were devoid of such comforts told him that
He was torn between being pleased at his cousin's thoughtfulness, and annoyed that she thought he'd needed all this special treatment. More annoyed at himself than Ambria really, because he couldn't deny entirely that he did. When guests started arriving, he'd be grateful for the bit of space, for the pillow and blanket to hold onto or hide under if the presence of so many people got cloying. He also had an easy escape route, should he feel the need to leave the room and head down the hall.
"I'm really glad you came early," Ambria said, as she brought him over a plate of mild wings and mini quesadillas to sample. "You can help me taste-test the food. Our usual place was closed due to the snow, and we had to go with this place called Moony's instead. Quince's beside himself because one of the chefs there is on the Food Network."
Val dutifully sampled, taking a bite of wing and chewing it contemplatively. "Mmm-- good sauce. Nice and mild. Spicy wings you're on your own for testing, though."
---
"Yeah! And the Colts are in the LEAD," Patrick called, getting up to do a little victory dance from the Colts camp that had taken over the mid-section of the sofa. Val had counted the fans - besides Ambria's two older brothers, there were four other folk clearly in the camp for Indianapolis. Everyone else had the good sense to be rooting for New Orleans.
"It's only first quarter," Bashir called back from the Saints side. "Wait and see. We're going to make a comeback."
"Ten-zero," Chris chimed in. "Z-e-r-o, that's your score."
Ambria tossed a pillow at him. "Pssh, we're just getting started."
Val silently nodded along to what Ambria was saying. He was too shy to voice his opinions to the group at large, especially with people yelling and all, but he wholeheartedly believed his team was going to win. There just wasn't any other option. New Orleans was the best city in the whole world, and their team had come so far - of course they were bound for victory. It was a foregone conclusion. In his lap he held the couch pillow and his iphone, texting frequently to Ellis as he watched the game.
In the midst of all these people, a lot of them his family, and some of them his friends - Val couldn't say he felt lonely. Still, part of him longed to be down there with Ellis, to be watching the game with him and the Dillon brothers down in the city he'd come to think of as home. There'd be other years for that, certainly - but none of them would be the first year the Saints won the Super Bowl. He supposed that in the relative scheme of things, it didn't matter all that much that they weren't in the same room. Any time he had a question about what was going on in the game, he could send it to Ellis and he'd explain. Every time their team made a good play, they'd send each other some form of 'yeahhh!' Almost the same as being together. Almost.
---
A lot of folks used halftime as a stretching point, time to collect another beer or fill up a plate. Some visited with the folks who'd settled in the kitchen because they were mostly indifferent to football, some checked up on the kids playing in Vibius's room, or outside in the snow-covered sculptured garden that was Ambria's backyard. Val himself stayed right where he was,watching The Who in concert. He was somewhat disappointed by how relatively tame they'd gotten over the years. No instruments broken, and they were all too geriatric to leap around all that much. They didn't say the eff word (though to be fair on that one, as Ellis had pointed out over text, they couldn't really sing that on national television). Roger Daltry also apparently had the fashion sense of a colorblind llama. Still, it was a pretty good performance.
"Do you like their music?," Bashir asked from where he was equally settled, a few chairs down. He smiled over at Val. "Sarah and I saw them live, a while back."
Val tried to picture his serious cousin-in-law and his wife - teachers both of them, nice folks really - grooving to the Who. "I'm not all about the jazz," he said, lips twitching. "I do enjoy some classic rock, yes. I didn't know you folks did..."
Bashir nodded, and grinned. "No one expects a chemistry teacher to rock out, do they? Well, yeah, we like the Who, the Stones, the Doors, Led Zep, Deep Purple - a lot of the oldies-but-goodies."
"I got some records you might like," Val offered, somewhat shy. "Maybe you guys could come visit sometime - erm, without the kids maybe - and I'll play them for you." He felt like a jerk immediately after for disincluding their offspring, but they were small and sticky and so not going anywhere near his record collection.
"Next time they're over at grandma and grandpa's, maybe we can drop in," Bashir agreed readily enough.
Val smiled.
---
By the end of the game, it was clear the Saints were going to win. All they had to do was wait out the shot clock. The room was already exploding in cheers and cries, and good-natured jeers towards the disappointed Colts section of the room. Fives and tens and a twenty or two were changing hands as a result of bets made. When the official announcement came, Val cheered along with with everyone else, though he stayed in his chair and avoided the hugging, back-clapping, and high-fiving that was going on around him.
The kids were running past, whooping and hollering because everyone else in the room was excited. Val drew up his legs onto the chair to avoid them as they passed, and smiled down at his iphone, at the text he saw there.
YEAHHH!!! Our team won! he sent back, Geaux Saints!
Val looked up from his texting at the happy party goers - Ambria's pink haired head visible as she bounced through the crowded room. Here-and-there she stopped to ruffle Vibius's hair, to kiss Harry on the mouth and Quincy on the cheek, to give Bashir a high-five and Sarah a hug. He envied her the ease of touching people, and being touched by people. Felt a brief pang of loneliness, in the midst of all those people, that he couldn't just get up and do the same.
Just the way things were, he supposed ,that he was the boy who sat in the chair slightly back from the rest, the boy who texted to his boyfriend thousand miles away rather than interact with overwhelming sea of affection around him. What did it matter? He was just as pleased as they were, only quieter about it, more reserved. Smile on his face just the same whether he hugged, or shook hands, or high-fived.
Saints had won the Super Bowl, and Val was just five days away from being back home himself. Then he'd get his hugs and kisses, all he wanted. All he needed. Val'd learned to be somewhat patient with these things - he could wait.
Still, he was happy now--- in his own way.
And that way was just fine.
He was torn between being pleased at his cousin's thoughtfulness, and annoyed that she thought he'd needed all this special treatment. More annoyed at himself than Ambria really, because he couldn't deny entirely that he did. When guests started arriving, he'd be grateful for the bit of space, for the pillow and blanket to hold onto or hide under if the presence of so many people got cloying. He also had an easy escape route, should he feel the need to leave the room and head down the hall.
"I'm really glad you came early," Ambria said, as she brought him over a plate of mild wings and mini quesadillas to sample. "You can help me taste-test the food. Our usual place was closed due to the snow, and we had to go with this place called Moony's instead. Quince's beside himself because one of the chefs there is on the Food Network."
Val dutifully sampled, taking a bite of wing and chewing it contemplatively. "Mmm-- good sauce. Nice and mild. Spicy wings you're on your own for testing, though."
---
"Yeah! And the Colts are in the LEAD," Patrick called, getting up to do a little victory dance from the Colts camp that had taken over the mid-section of the sofa. Val had counted the fans - besides Ambria's two older brothers, there were four other folk clearly in the camp for Indianapolis. Everyone else had the good sense to be rooting for New Orleans.
"It's only first quarter," Bashir called back from the Saints side. "Wait and see. We're going to make a comeback."
"Ten-zero," Chris chimed in. "Z-e-r-o, that's your score."
Ambria tossed a pillow at him. "Pssh, we're just getting started."
Val silently nodded along to what Ambria was saying. He was too shy to voice his opinions to the group at large, especially with people yelling and all, but he wholeheartedly believed his team was going to win. There just wasn't any other option. New Orleans was the best city in the whole world, and their team had come so far - of course they were bound for victory. It was a foregone conclusion. In his lap he held the couch pillow and his iphone, texting frequently to Ellis as he watched the game.
In the midst of all these people, a lot of them his family, and some of them his friends - Val couldn't say he felt lonely. Still, part of him longed to be down there with Ellis, to be watching the game with him and the Dillon brothers down in the city he'd come to think of as home. There'd be other years for that, certainly - but none of them would be the first year the Saints won the Super Bowl. He supposed that in the relative scheme of things, it didn't matter all that much that they weren't in the same room. Any time he had a question about what was going on in the game, he could send it to Ellis and he'd explain. Every time their team made a good play, they'd send each other some form of 'yeahhh!' Almost the same as being together. Almost.
---
A lot of folks used halftime as a stretching point, time to collect another beer or fill up a plate. Some visited with the folks who'd settled in the kitchen because they were mostly indifferent to football, some checked up on the kids playing in Vibius's room, or outside in the snow-covered sculptured garden that was Ambria's backyard. Val himself stayed right where he was,watching The Who in concert. He was somewhat disappointed by how relatively tame they'd gotten over the years. No instruments broken, and they were all too geriatric to leap around all that much. They didn't say the eff word (though to be fair on that one, as Ellis had pointed out over text, they couldn't really sing that on national television). Roger Daltry also apparently had the fashion sense of a colorblind llama. Still, it was a pretty good performance.
"Do you like their music?," Bashir asked from where he was equally settled, a few chairs down. He smiled over at Val. "Sarah and I saw them live, a while back."
Val tried to picture his serious cousin-in-law and his wife - teachers both of them, nice folks really - grooving to the Who. "I'm not all about the jazz," he said, lips twitching. "I do enjoy some classic rock, yes. I didn't know you folks did..."
Bashir nodded, and grinned. "No one expects a chemistry teacher to rock out, do they? Well, yeah, we like the Who, the Stones, the Doors, Led Zep, Deep Purple - a lot of the oldies-but-goodies."
"I got some records you might like," Val offered, somewhat shy. "Maybe you guys could come visit sometime - erm, without the kids maybe - and I'll play them for you." He felt like a jerk immediately after for disincluding their offspring, but they were small and sticky and so not going anywhere near his record collection.
"Next time they're over at grandma and grandpa's, maybe we can drop in," Bashir agreed readily enough.
Val smiled.
---
By the end of the game, it was clear the Saints were going to win. All they had to do was wait out the shot clock. The room was already exploding in cheers and cries, and good-natured jeers towards the disappointed Colts section of the room. Fives and tens and a twenty or two were changing hands as a result of bets made. When the official announcement came, Val cheered along with with everyone else, though he stayed in his chair and avoided the hugging, back-clapping, and high-fiving that was going on around him.
The kids were running past, whooping and hollering because everyone else in the room was excited. Val drew up his legs onto the chair to avoid them as they passed, and smiled down at his iphone, at the text he saw there.
YEAHHH!!! Our team won! he sent back, Geaux Saints!
Val looked up from his texting at the happy party goers - Ambria's pink haired head visible as she bounced through the crowded room. Here-and-there she stopped to ruffle Vibius's hair, to kiss Harry on the mouth and Quincy on the cheek, to give Bashir a high-five and Sarah a hug. He envied her the ease of touching people, and being touched by people. Felt a brief pang of loneliness, in the midst of all those people, that he couldn't just get up and do the same.
Just the way things were, he supposed ,that he was the boy who sat in the chair slightly back from the rest, the boy who texted to his boyfriend thousand miles away rather than interact with overwhelming sea of affection around him. What did it matter? He was just as pleased as they were, only quieter about it, more reserved. Smile on his face just the same whether he hugged, or shook hands, or high-fived.
Saints had won the Super Bowl, and Val was just five days away from being back home himself. Then he'd get his hugs and kisses, all he wanted. All he needed. Val'd learned to be somewhat patient with these things - he could wait.
Still, he was happy now--- in his own way.
And that way was just fine.