I Think I Broke Him
Title: I Think I Broke Him
Rating: PG
Characters: Tami, Eric, Gracie
Setting: After Matt/Eric scene
“Can you believe it?” Tami cupped water in her hand, pouring it over Gracie’s head. She blinked her eyes, shaking dry. “Yeah, me either. I mean, Obama-Clinton, Clinton---Obama, what’s a girl to do?” She ran the washcloth over Gracie’s legs. “You know, you’re right, darlin,” Tami smiled at Gracie, poking her belly, “we’ll just write in Daddy. Maybe he’d be home a little earlier.” She poured some more water over the baby’s head, pausing when she heard the door shut.
Eric kneeled beside Tami. With one hand on the plastic tub, and the other on Gracie, he looked over at her, “I need you to go over to Saracen’s house,” he said evenly. “The keys are in the car, I just need you to go over there and talk to him. I’ll finish up here.”
“Whoa. I think you need to hit the pause button and replay this one for me,” Tami sat back.
Eric splashed some water on Gracie, then picked her up in the towel. Holding her out, he smiled, then drew her into his shoulder. “Please, he needs you,” Eric began, “I need you to help him. Could you just-“
“No, Eric. I can’t just anything without something to go on,” she followed him into Gracie’s room. “Is this about him and the art teacher?” Tami stood at the door watching as Eric put Gracie on the diaper table. “I mean, I am going to talk to him about that but not at,” she glanced at the clock, “not at 9:27 at night when I have a baby to get into bed, a daughter to tuck in---“
It was Eric who interrupted, “art teacher?” He looked up, “no, this isn’t about any art teacher. This is about a boy who feels like he is all alone. Do you know there were two times last season when I told that boy he played a hell of a game? Twice, Tami.” Eric squeezed some lotion on his hands, rubbing it on Gracie. The smell of baby lotion filled the room. “I should’ve done more. I’m not livin’ in shoulds anymore.”
“What’d you do to him, Eric?” Tami asked quietly.
He didn’t answer her, immediately, instead buckled a diaper onto Gracie, then folded her arms and legs into a sleeper. Picking up her blanket, Eric sat in the rocking chair. “I’m afraid I might’ve broken him,” he said, not looking up from Gracie. “He didn’t need football last year when Street went down. Jason, tried, hell, even you tried to warn me. Compassion, Bob Dylan, he drew for Christ’s sake. He was a good kid. He trusted me,” Eric almost whispered the last sentence.
Tami leaned against the doorjam, watching Eric, listening. She walked over to the chair and took Eric’s hat, tossing it behind her. She played with Gracie’s hand for a moment. “Matt Saracen is a good kid,” she rubbed his forearm. “You are a man who molds men. That doesn’t mean you’re flawless. God doesn’t make quarterbacks. He makes little boys who practice five-step drops in their back yard pretending to be #6, Jason Street or #7, Matt Saracen. Every once in awhile one of those little boy’s dreams come true and God gives them to you to mold. I can’t fill in for you, babe.” She pushed herself up, “I will offer you this, though,” she leaned down, head on his, “when a boy as delicate as Matt Saracen gives up, there are horrible consequences. He might not need football, but he needs you. I suggest that you hand me our daughter and go show that kid it’s OK to be fragile sometimes. He is a boy, trying desperately to grow up to be a good, decent man and you are a good and decent man.” Tami reached for Gracie.
Eric pursed his lips, handing the baby to Tami, “what do I say?” He asked, looking up at her with confusion.
“I think you say, I’m sorry, then you sit down and you listen,” she told him.
Eric nodded, then bent over to pick up his hat. He kissed Tami, then Gracie. Walking out of the room, he tapped gently on Julie’s door, “night.”
Rating: PG
Characters: Tami, Eric, Gracie
Setting: After Matt/Eric scene
“Can you believe it?” Tami cupped water in her hand, pouring it over Gracie’s head. She blinked her eyes, shaking dry. “Yeah, me either. I mean, Obama-Clinton, Clinton---Obama, what’s a girl to do?” She ran the washcloth over Gracie’s legs. “You know, you’re right, darlin,” Tami smiled at Gracie, poking her belly, “we’ll just write in Daddy. Maybe he’d be home a little earlier.” She poured some more water over the baby’s head, pausing when she heard the door shut.
Eric kneeled beside Tami. With one hand on the plastic tub, and the other on Gracie, he looked over at her, “I need you to go over to Saracen’s house,” he said evenly. “The keys are in the car, I just need you to go over there and talk to him. I’ll finish up here.”
“Whoa. I think you need to hit the pause button and replay this one for me,” Tami sat back.
Eric splashed some water on Gracie, then picked her up in the towel. Holding her out, he smiled, then drew her into his shoulder. “Please, he needs you,” Eric began, “I need you to help him. Could you just-“
“No, Eric. I can’t just anything without something to go on,” she followed him into Gracie’s room. “Is this about him and the art teacher?” Tami stood at the door watching as Eric put Gracie on the diaper table. “I mean, I am going to talk to him about that but not at,” she glanced at the clock, “not at 9:27 at night when I have a baby to get into bed, a daughter to tuck in---“
It was Eric who interrupted, “art teacher?” He looked up, “no, this isn’t about any art teacher. This is about a boy who feels like he is all alone. Do you know there were two times last season when I told that boy he played a hell of a game? Twice, Tami.” Eric squeezed some lotion on his hands, rubbing it on Gracie. The smell of baby lotion filled the room. “I should’ve done more. I’m not livin’ in shoulds anymore.”
“What’d you do to him, Eric?” Tami asked quietly.
He didn’t answer her, immediately, instead buckled a diaper onto Gracie, then folded her arms and legs into a sleeper. Picking up her blanket, Eric sat in the rocking chair. “I’m afraid I might’ve broken him,” he said, not looking up from Gracie. “He didn’t need football last year when Street went down. Jason, tried, hell, even you tried to warn me. Compassion, Bob Dylan, he drew for Christ’s sake. He was a good kid. He trusted me,” Eric almost whispered the last sentence.
Tami leaned against the doorjam, watching Eric, listening. She walked over to the chair and took Eric’s hat, tossing it behind her. She played with Gracie’s hand for a moment. “Matt Saracen is a good kid,” she rubbed his forearm. “You are a man who molds men. That doesn’t mean you’re flawless. God doesn’t make quarterbacks. He makes little boys who practice five-step drops in their back yard pretending to be #6, Jason Street or #7, Matt Saracen. Every once in awhile one of those little boy’s dreams come true and God gives them to you to mold. I can’t fill in for you, babe.” She pushed herself up, “I will offer you this, though,” she leaned down, head on his, “when a boy as delicate as Matt Saracen gives up, there are horrible consequences. He might not need football, but he needs you. I suggest that you hand me our daughter and go show that kid it’s OK to be fragile sometimes. He is a boy, trying desperately to grow up to be a good, decent man and you are a good and decent man.” Tami reached for Gracie.
Eric pursed his lips, handing the baby to Tami, “what do I say?” He asked, looking up at her with confusion.
“I think you say, I’m sorry, then you sit down and you listen,” she told him.
Eric nodded, then bent over to pick up his hat. He kissed Tami, then Gracie. Walking out of the room, he tapped gently on Julie’s door, “night.”