“Why did you bring that home?”
Darnell’s mood shifted slightly.
He touched the facemask.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
Eli waited.
“One of the supervisors knows a guy with the Broncos youth development program.”
Eli’s stomach tightened.
Darnell smiled for the first time.
“They’re doing a regional showcase next month.”
“Forty high-school players.”
“College scouts.”
“Position coaches.”
“Film sessions.”
“He can get you looked at if Randall recommends you.”
Eli did not smile.
Darnell noticed.
“This is a real opportunity.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
The smile disappeared.
“No.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Darnell stared.
“What do you mean why?”
“I don’t want to do a showcase.”
“You haven’t even heard what it is.”
“I know what a showcase is.”
“You’ve never been to one.”
“I’ve been playing football since I was nine.”
“Exactly.”
Eli looked down at the drawings.
Darnell’s voice softened.
“Son.”
“You’re good.”
Eli closed his eyes.
That sentence hurt in ways Darnell could not understand.
Not because it was false.
Eli was good.
He could catch.
He understood routes.
He was quick enough.
He had made varsity as a sophomore.
He had scored twice the previous Friday.
People cheered.
His father stood at the fence and shouted louder than anyone.
Eli liked winning.
He liked his teammates.
He liked Friday nights.
What he did not like was Monday.
Or Tuesday.
Or film study.
Or waking up thinking about football.
Art followed him everywhere.
Football waited until someone scheduled it.
That difference felt enormous.
“I’m good at something else too.”
Eli said.
Darnell looked at the drawings.
“I know.”
“No.”
Eli shook his head.
“You think I’m good for a kid who draws.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It’s what you mean.”
Darnell crossed his arms.
“Then what do you want me to say?”
“That you should drop football?”
“That college costs don’t matter?”
“That you should ignore something that could pay for school because drawing makes you happy?”
Eli’s face tightened.
“There are scholarships for art.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“How many kids draw?”
Darnell interrupted.
“How many of them make a living?”
Eli looked away.
Darnell regretted the question almost immediately.
Not because he thought it was wrong.
Because he heard how much fear was inside it.
He covered fear with practicality.
He always had.
“Look.”
Darnell said.
“You don’t have to become a professional player.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“But football could get you into a school we cannot otherwise pay for.”
Eli looked back.
“We?”
Darnell’s face changed.
“That came out wrong.”
“No.”
“It came out exactly right.”
Eli stood.
“You think I owe you the cheapest version of my future.”
Darnell stared.
“That is not what I think.”
“You keep talking about what I cost.”
“I talk about reality.”