I grew up in a town where football wasn’t just a sport—it was pretty much the center of everyone’s life. Population was around 7,000. We had one Walmart thirty minutes away, one movie theater an hour away, and if you wanted something to do on a Friday night, you either went to the football game or you stayed home. Everybody knew your parents. Everybody knew your grandparents. If you had a good game on Friday, the cashier at the grocery store would tell you Saturday morning. If you had a bad game… You heard about that too. My name’s Mason Carter. I played wide receiver for Westbrook High. I wasn’t one of those freak athletes who could run a 4.3 forty or jump over defenders. I wasn’t the tallest receiver either. I was about 6’3”, 195 pounds by senior year. What I did have was hands. I caught everything. Didn’t matter if it was thrown behind me, over my shoulder, or six inches off the ground. If I could touch it, I was bringing it in. My quarterback always joked that I’d catch a brick if...
When my mother died, I told everyone I was flying to Japan because Aunt Sachiko shouldn't have to grieve alone. That wasn't really the whole truth. The truth was I didn't want anyone asking why I wasn't going back to work after the funeral. I'd already been laid off a month earlier and still hadn't found the courage to tell most people. Oliver knew, of course, but even with him I'd started pretending things were better than they were. Every morning I'd open my laptop, send out a handful of applications, get another rejection or, more often, no response at all, and by dinner we'd somehow be talking about my mother again. Grief has a way of swallowing every other problem. Losing your job feels selfish when you've just buried your mom, so eventually I stopped bringing it up altogether. Japan gave me an excuse to disappear for a while without having to explain why I needed to. Aunt Sachiko had lived alone since my uncle died nearly twenty years ago....