“Hey hey hey, close the dvd case,” Leslie said.
“I did,” Sean said as he yanked the case away from his sister, “Don’t tell me what to do or I’m telling dad.”
“You didn’t do it right. I don’t want you to ruin Mom’s DVD.”
“I’m not going to! Why don’t you just work on losing the 12 lbs that you gained after leaving fat camp!”
“Oh Sean, I just want to box your ears,” she said as she started to pout.
“Box my ears, you really scare me Les. Shut up or I’m telling your boyfriend that you wear falsies.”
“I don’t, you just need to stop looking at me that way,” Leslie said as she flipped her blonde hair out her face. “I’m still a virgin.”
“Yeah, and Osama Bin Laden is still hiding in a cave in Afghanastan.”
“He is Sean, Jeremy told me that his brother’s best friend told him that we never buried Bin laden but we buried an imposter that you could only tell the difference by looking at the mole on his ass.”
“Leslie, there are times that I wonder why mom had to hook up with her gym teacher.”
“I look like Dad and you know it.”
“If Dad’s IQ was 170 points lower. The only think that makes you look like him is your mouth and anyone could have lips like yours with enough botox.”
As he watched his sister walk away in her pink pants and white blouse Sean realized that Leslie did look like their father but he would never admit it to her. It was too much fun messing with her and making her think that she was her late mother’s gym instructor.
He looked at the DVD case that had broken spine from the time opening and closing the various times. Thank goodness his father had a backup copy of the video because his sister and the entire family would just look and stare for hours at her.
She had long flowing brown hair that almost came to the middle of her back , a small petite nose that almost looked out of place on her round, full face with the blue eyes that would search deep into your soul. That was her before the chemotherapy reduced her to a bald headed, sunken eyed, well monster.
Sean never looked past the first 2 ½ hours of the DVD. He would prefer to remember his last football game with her there, cheering him on from the ambulance. The four touchdown catches he made meant nothing. The only memory he had from the game was when he ran over to the ambulance and handed his mother the game ball.
“You take it Sean, you’re the hero,” Sean’s eyes watered as he could remember the moment, even tasting grass in his mouth.
“But I want you to have it mom, don’t you understand?”
Sean’s eyes misted up as the team took a knee in front of his mother.
“We won this game for you,” they said in unison.
“You won it for yourselves. Each one of you has made mistakes and has paid for them. Listen to your parents; love them even when you don’t think they deserve it. For if your heart is in the right place and your love is eternal, you will always,” she started to cough and took a whiff from the oxygen. “win.”
She fell back onto the stretcher and the medics wheeled her away.
Every boy had a patch on their uniform for Sean’s mom.
It wasn’t her initials. That would have made her furious.
“No one person is above a team Sean,” she yelled the day he skipped practice because he didn’t feel well.
He ran bleachers, not for the coach, not for his dad (who was the assistant coach).
But for his mother, who taught him better.
As for those patches, each one of them had one word on them.
Happy Mothers Day.