Dad, You’re on My Team
Brian Armer
“Dad, you’re playing.” Evan looked up from the patio chair. Molly stood in the grass with a soccer ball tucked against her hip. Behind her, Theo was moving the sweatshirt goalposts closer together. Apparently, negotiations had already begun.
“I’ll watch this round,” Evan said. “You watched last time.” Molly didn’t sound angry. That made it worse. He set his phone facedown on the table. “Fine. Ten minutes.” Theo immediately announced that arguments about rules did not count as playing time.
Their pup Pickles took possession before anyone could agree on those rules. Evan chased him across the yard while both children shrieked with laughter. “Strong opening from Dad,” Molly called. Evan wasn’t sure he appreciated the commentary.
Once they retrieved the ball, Molly passed to him and darted behind Theo. “Back to me!” Evan sent it too far. She caught up with it anyway, then turned and waved him forward. For the next twenty minutes, nobody asked him to fix anything or hurry up. They just wanted him on their team.
Near the patio, he stretched for a pass, lost his footing, and caught himself with his palm on the rough paving. Molly stopped beside him. “You okay?” He checked the small scrape. “Yep. Taking a halftime.”
Inside, Evan cleaned and cared for his hand. Through the kitchen window, he watched Molly show Theo how to pass with the inside of his foot. Pickles lay between the sweatshirt goalposts, having appointed himself head of security. Evan stayed at the window a moment longer. Then he went back outside.
“We can stop,” Molly said. “I know.” He sat on the grass beside them. “Show me what you were teaching him.” She demonstrated slowly. Theo copied her, sent the ball sideways, and blamed a slope nobody else could see.
By dinner, the children were arguing over whose team Dad would be on tomorrow. Evan offered to referee. Both immediately rejected that arrangement. Molly caught him smiling. “You’re doing the weird dad face.” He laughed and helped Theo find the ball beneath the table.
That night, Molly leaned around his bedroom doorway. “Same teams tomorrow?” “Thought your brother wanted to swap.” “He does. I don’t.” Evan looked up. “Why?” She shrugged. “I like having you on mine.” For once, he had no joke ready. “Me too, Mol.”
She disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, he heard her tell Theo that Dad was already taken.
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