Ms. Jennifer Marshall sat down on the bleachers wincing at the cold of the metal against her already wet skirt. She wiped at her face, pulling a compact out from her bag, and frowning at the face she saw back. In the mirror, rather than a young twenty year old woman with her life ahead of her, she saw a woman wrinkled with age, hair a frazzled wet mess, and eyes horribly bloodshot. Appearances were very important to her, but no about of powder she puffed on could hide the look within her eyes, just the swelling around them. She lamented the fact she might be seen, should someone recognize her, the wife of a politician, looking like such a mess, they might assume there were familial issues.
Which in truth there were.
She smoothed her dyed blonde hair, attempting to force her many flyaways back into place unsuccessfully. With a sigh of defeat, she packed the compact away and turned her attention to the field. The boys weren't out yet, so she stared off into space reflecting on the day. Snow began to lazily drift down, slowly picking up speed as time wore on. It burnt her skin as it hit.
Perhaps some people might think what she did was wrong.
She disagreed. She had Lucas' best intentions at heart and eve if he couldn't respect what she'd done yet she knew that one day he would. It was what was best, she was convinced of that in her heart.
Ms. Marshall looked around her and realized how out of place she was. Sitting on the wet bleachers with a bunch of rowdy parents was not where she felt she belonged. She'd never really gone to one of her sons games before. For as long as he'd played soccer, she'd shared no interest in the subject, and had no time set aside for the game. She had no time set aside for him.
When Jennifer was growing up there was a standard for women; it was expected that they would all want to and have children. All her friends grew up and had children of their own, competitive in her own right, she couldn't let them have anything over her. So she'd had a child, a son, and being that she herself never really had any inclination for motherhood that was where she stopped. Perhaps that made her appear absent or austere to Lucas. Perhaps she was really too busy at her job to let that affect her.
Not everyone is born for motherhood, but Ms. Marshall was a married woman, and that was what was expected of a woman who go married. Ms. Marshall was not one to scorn traditional expectations. Looking back at her life, she wondered if she might have had a child still, if she was given the chance to do it all again.
Lucas and his team ran out on the field and despite her discomfort, she smiled with pride at the cheers her son earned, to her one of the greatest virtues a person could wield. In politics that was one of the things her husband excelled at. Like Lucas, he was easygoing and likable, Jennifer was neither.
Lucas scanned the stands through the cheers, catching eye contact with her. He waved slowly, and she sent a subtle kiss back. His brow furrowed and he held his fingers up in the shape of a 'V.'
Vincent. Jennifer's blood ran cold, as she looked to left and right and grasped at something to do. She looked back and shook her head. Lucas' confusion turned to panic as he looked from side to side. His face paled as if he'd seen a ghost and he stumbled slightly as he moved to walk away.
....
"Go!" Marty called as he and Vincent pulled up to the athletic complex. Without waiting for further instruction Vincent ran out of the car, still not even sure where he was going. The snow was falling heavily by that point.
"Vincent!" Hailey called as she saw him get out. She ran over to him followed by Dustin. "He's in the locker room. He's refusing to leave before he sees you."
Vincent kept moving through the group, the other three trailing behind. Inside the building he knew where to go from countless of Lucas' game and made his way quickly through the path. When he approached the door, the coach was standing in the way, blocking the entry.
"Sorry son, I can't let you in." The coach crossed his arms. "The rest of the team's been sent home."
"Please." Vincent pleaded. "I need to see Lucas. He'll want to see me!"
"Are you Vincent?" The coach asked, face softening. Vincent nodded eagerly in response. "Go in... he's hysterical, if you can do something, then go." Marty followed quietly after him as if he wasn't sure where he was meant to be.
Inside the locker room, Vincent was first greeted with loud sounds of a woman weeping and crying. Her shrill voice penetrated the room and infected Vincent's thoughts. It was the sound of a woman in grief, not of a boy who survived.
"Lucas!" The voice called. "Get up! You've got to go!" Her words were harsh, but the fear in her voice betrayed that it was just a coping mechanism. "Vincent!" Ms. Marshall turned to him when he entered the room. "Do something! Is there something you can do... I can't...."
"I don't... I can't... I need Vincent." Lucas mumbled, breath hitching in his throat as his eyes streamed tears.
"Lucas?" Vincent asked. "I'm here. Can you see me?"
"Get away from me." Lucas yelled, going back to staring ahead of him, otherwise unresponsive.
"What's wrong with you, Lucas?" Ms. Marshall asked. She was trying her best, but it was clear she had no real idea what she was doing.
Lucas continued mumbling and carrying on, head and body shaking violently. His foot freed from his cleat was bloody and bruised at the ankle, an icepack half hazardously placed on the injury.
"Stop yelling at him. It's a panic attack." Vincent scolded, kneeling in front of the boy. Vincent wasn't totally sure how to deal with the issue, but he did remember the last time Lucas had an outburst, and knew that yelling was probably not the best corse of action. Lucas' breath hitched in his throat and he began coughing and stuttering feverishly, face going quickly from a paper white to a blood red.
"Lucas? Lucas can you hear me?" Vincent asked, voice shaking with fear. Lucas' breath was terribly labored and Vincent's brows furrowed. His panic attack had triggered an asthma attack from all the heavy breathing. "Where's his inhaler?"
"Inhaler?" The coach asked.
"For his athzma." Vincent looked at the coach in confusion. "Doesn't he have to tell you that in case something happens?" Vincent asked as he began digging through Lucas' bags.
"He never told me anything."
"Lucas. Where is your inhaler?" Nothing. "Lucas?" Vincent tired futilely once more, knowing it was no use. Tossing out the contents of Lucas' bag Vincent finally found it towards the bottom. He popped the cap, and pushed it into the boy's mouth, pressing the button so the medicine would flow.
Lucas inhaled sharply a few times on the puffs of air. His breathing steadied, but remained jagged.
"Lucas?" Vincent knelt down again so he was in view of Lucas' eyes. "It's alright... I'm not going anywhere." Lucas eyes shifted and looked to Vincent in disbelief, but recognition took hold. "Everything's going to be alright." Vincent wrapped his arms around Lucas, the boy's breathing steadying even more as he did.
Jennifer and Marty watched from afar as the pair hugged.
"You're not leaving?" Lucas sputtered weakly, recognizing Vincent's touch, finally able to break through the wall.
"No."
Lucas tugged at Vincent's arm and Vincent knelt down again. Lucas closed the gap between them with a quick kiss. Vincent smiled to himself, flushing red in embarrassment at the fact that the coach and Lucas' mother were both watching them.
"You're so dramatic. I'm late one time." Vincent chuckled and Lucas shrugged.
"I can't live without you." Lucas squeezed weakly at Vincent's hand.
"Come on." Vincent pulled Lucas up, wrapping the boy's arm around him so he could half carry him. "We've got to get your leg checked out."
"He's alright?" Lucas' mother sputtered in relief.
"I'm okay, mom." Lucas swatted at her hand.
"Oh... I've got my car pulled around. We'll drive you over to the hospital." Ms. Marshall rushed from the room, and Vincent moved with Lucas to follow her, struggling to support the boy's weight.
"Get better, kid." The coach called after them as they went.
"You'll never leave me alone again, will you?"
"God no." Vincent rolled his eyes.
"Good."