"When Biff was your age," Gary knelt down on the grass to look at Jennifer on eye-level, "he could throw a perfect spiral 40 yards. I taught him that, and I'm sorry I haven't been teaching you."
Jennifer was a little confused since she'd never really been interested in football, but getting any attention from her daddy was so rare that she didn't want to risk ending it. So she just nodded, as Gary showed her how to grip the football: a little bit behind the laces since her hand wasn't big enough to grip it properly around the center.
It was with attention and care that Gary held Jennifer's wrist and guided her hand into the proper throwing motion. It was with passion and diligence that he explained the mechanics of rolling your fingertips to get spin on the ball. And it was with rapt attention that Jennifer took all of this information in.
And so when Gary took a few great steps backwards and told the girl to throw, she used all of her new knowledge and found herself throwing a perfect spiral that Gary caught right at his chest.
It was easy. It was like Jennifer had thrown a football a thousand times before, even though this was her first try. She somehow instinctively knew how much power to put behind the throw to get precisely to Gary's position, and it felt easy. Like a warm up.
Gary tossed the football back, and Jennifer caught it easily without thinking. "Go back another ten yards," she called before throwing. It took a little more power, but that throw felt easy, too.
Soon, Gary was a full 40 yards out and the two were passing back and forth with an ease that Jennifer would never have imagined. She was near the end of her limits with this range, but it was still comfortably within her limits. She looked down at her arms in wonder after one particular throw. They seemed leaner than she remembered, like her skin was more taut around her muscles. She could see veins, not quite popping out, but certainly more prominent along her arm than she was used to. Just a few minutes of tossing a football could do that? A flash lit behind Jennifer's eyes as Gary snatched the football out of the air. She wanted more.
"I think you're ready to learn some catching drills," Gary called as he jogged in to close the gap between them. Jennifer didn't know what that meant, but she was going to soak up all of this attention from her daddy like a sponge.
While all of this was happening, Lorraine was sitting on the grass, leaning against a tree on a small hill overlooking the field where Gary and Jennifer were throwing a football. On her lap rested the head of Lake Point High School's star quarterback, and she was running her fingers through his hair as he looked up in awe, enraptured by the swaying leaves.
Of course, Biff's unicorn shirt-clad body was attached, it wasn't just a disembodied head on Lorraine's lap. But Lorraine's entire focus was on the short strands of hair that weaved between her fingers, and those wide, wondrous eyes taking in all of the details of the world around them.
Biff had been so silent all day, had barely spoken a word. Had he even said a single word since he'd gotten dressed? He'd just passively allowed himself to be placed into the car like a giant teddy bear, and passively followed as Lorraine had lead him by the hand to this tree.
But now, looking at the leaves above him, he seemed so engaged. There was more intention behind his eyes now, and they kept darting back and forth as the wind shifted the movement of the branches.
A squirrel jumped from one branch to another, and Biff's eyebrows went wide, then knitted themselves in concentration, following the small animal. His arms reached out as if to grasp it, even though it was many feet outside of Biff's reach.
Lorraine giggled as she gently pushed Biff's arms back down. "You can't catch that squirrel, sweetie. You'll have to just watch it."
Biff's eyes then turned to meet Lorraine's. "Momma," he said with a twang that had never been in his voice before, but matched the southern Georgia upbringing that Jennifer had had until Lorraine moved them to Lake Point, "can you fix up my hair?"
Lorraine's breath caught in her throat. She didn't notice Biff's new accent. She didn't realize that her hand, as if on instinct, had reached down to pick up a hair brush that hadn't been there a moment before. She didn't feel the hair elastics suddenly appearing on her other wrist. Her entire world was consumed by a single word: "momma." It was the first time Biff had called her anything other than Lorraine.
"Of course, baby," she said, already bringing bristles across Biff's scalp. "Your momma's here to help."
