Football Game Trigger War

“TOUCHDOWN!!!” Mason exclaimed. “35 to 21 and there’s nothing you can do about it! 30 seconds left to drive down the field…highly unlikely,” He sneered!

I pursed my lips and shot him my most pungent look. “It’s just a game,” I muttered, trying to calm myself down.

“Honestly Lizzie, don’t get salty because you’re losing at Madden…gaming is supposed to be fun!” Ben said, as he got up from the bed to put his arms around my neck.

I was kind of pissed now. Any other time of the day I would've held my boyfriend’s long arms and put down the Xbox controller but not now. I was getting my ass kicked against someone who: sure, may have been better at Madden ’16, but sure as hell did not know football better than I did.

See, my father played in his youth and almost made it but he didn’t. Now my brother was going for the same dream. I personally thought it was hogwash, like sure you gotta dream big to be big but don’t be delusional. Regardless, Brad was still the golden child and everyone’s favourite when it came to comparing us. On the brighter side, I was a girl and could never actually play in a football league. I did, however, help manage the team one summer when my brother played Peewee. And boy, was that a tragic mistake.

“You fuckin’ idiots! Wrong play!” My father hollered from the side lines. “I Formation 35 WB Counter not Single Wing 28 WB Counter!”

Did I mention he was in the Navy?

My point was that football ran in my veins. I bled it. I watched it ever since I could remember and as soon as I was big enough to fit into a jersey, I got one for my birthday from guess who?

“A Cowboys fan…just like your old man!” He used to say. I couldn’t even watch a game without subconsciously analyzing every technique and tactic used.

I severely disliked this moment…not because I disliked Mason, not because I was getting a bad high or anything, but because I hated losing.

“WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN! WIN…” My ears were pulsating and I could hear my own heartbeat. It was almost as if my father was yelling that right now. To him winning wasn’t everything, it was the only thing.

As the final seconds of the clock counted down, my grip on the controller tightened, my palms clammy now. I needed to leave before I imploded.

“Are y’all gonna play Castle Crashers now?” I said behind my shoulder as I tossed the remote on Mason’s mahogany desk. I now subtly tried to gather my things.

We had been cooped up in Mason’s room since last night and I hadn’t showered in days. He also had a Bernese Mountain Dog that shed like no other and my clothes were a moist sponge absorbed in hair. I was revolting and my mouth tasted like tar.

As I clicked my purple skull candy earphones into my phone, I turned to Ben.

“What are we doing today, Bae?” I gently asked.

“I know what I’m doing!” He sang bluntly.

“Okay.”

I tried not to roll my eyes but instead sighed.

“Guess I’ll see ya when I see ya. Thanks again for having me, Mason.”

“Any time Liz, have a good one.”

“Bye Babe,” I thought I’d add.

“Bye,” he replied emotionless.

I turned on my heels and opened the door. You know when you can smell your own sweaty, oily stench…that was me. And now I had to take the metro home. Estimated time of arrival: 25 minutes.

“Just great…” I mumbled as I slipped on my nut brown timberlands and exited the apartment.

Although it was a mere two minute walk from Mason’s place to the Papineau metro stop, it was so windy that my hood blew off. I pulled the white fur hood of my royal blue Canada goose coat back over my head and exhaled. Yup…a real Canadian winter’s day. It was at least -20 degrees Celsius.

Entering the humid metro station, my glasses blinded me as they fogged up like clouds. Removing them, I tried cleaning my lenses with my sleeve, observing the other folks around me.

To my left, an elderly man in a peacoat helping his wife exit the building, on my right: a young woman holding her large rose gold iPhone to her ear, saying something about “tomorrow” in french.

Straight ahead was the escalator, I hopped onto it with relief and scrolled to play Ed Sheeran’s “Eraser”.

As I descended and scanned my Opus card, I heard a basic C-G-EM-D chord progression being strummed in the distance. I could feel the vibration but I couldn’t see it. As I continued to walk towards the Angrignon bound train, a calming voice augmented in my ears.

I peeked to my right and stared. In a small darkened nook sat a frail, brown-skinned, middle aged woman playing the guitar.

What song was she singing? I didn’t know. Perhaps an original or one of those rare underground 70s demos that you had to search like an internet stalker to find. “…Life just goes the way it goes, don’t know what way the tide will roll. You never know what you might find, now all there is, is you and I….”

Her tone radiated throughout the metro tunnel. She had a raspy yet tranquil voice, like Patti Smith circa 1979. This woman was so enchanting, she had lifted my spirit and I forgot what I was so coiled up about.

I lingered to listen a bit longer.

When the metro cart finally came, I carried this current zen with me while I found a seat and got comfy. I had quite a few stops before I would get to Atwater.

My eyes closed for what felt like a minute and I heard the french intercom voice:

“Next station: Peel.” Almost there.

…

After finally reaching my building, gliding into the magically bronze elevator and ascending over many floors before getting to mine, I stumbled out and reached the twenty third floor, briskly shuffling down the hallway to find my apartment: 1414.

I twisted my key to unlock it. I dropped my tangerine Betsey Johnson tote on the ground and let out a huge: home sweet home.