The Lost and Found

Flashbacks

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: Finn Parker

I put on my cleats as he looked at me patiently, waiting for me by the large oak tree in the middle of the park.

It got to the both of us that it was a good time to have a game since it was cloudy and windy outside. Plus, there was hardly anyone out.

I took off my Miami Heat hat and tucked it on the knapsack we brought for snacks since the wind was pretty strong and I wouldn't like to chase after my sports hat.

My cleats were gray with bright yellow streaks. He gave them to me as a gift for my birthday.

"You ready, big star?" Dad called as he bounced the soccer ball on his palm. I sent him a thumbs-up. "Good. I want to teach you about screening."

"Like a door screen, Dad?" I asked as I dribbled the ball between my feet.

He shook his head. "No. It means simply protecting or defending the ball from an opponent."

I nodded. "Awesome. How do I do it?"

"It's pretty easy, actually. You just position yourself between the ball and the attacker." he said, doing it himself. "For example, Player B, an opponent, comes from the right, I turn to the left, turning my back to him so that the ball is safe from danger. Well, temporarily that is. You do that until you find a teammate who is completely unguarded and is waiting for the ball." he said then leaned to my size. "But remember, do it with confidence and trust in yourself in doing it or, you risk losing the ball."

I nodded. "Got it, Dad."

He ruffled my hair. "Good girl. Now, I'm teaching you feinting and some techniques."

"Okay."

He positioned the ball in front of him. "Feinting means fooling your opponent by the movement of your body." he told me and I nodded silently. "In this case, you're trying to dodge around the opponent, lose him then go sprint to the safer side like your life depended on it, which it actually does." he pointed out. "So, the easiest way to feint or 'sell an opponent a dummy' - that's the other term - is to swerve into different directions and have the opponent follow you, commit himself before you go and beat him to it. Now, I'm going to show you."

I watched as Dad dribbled the ball across the field and how he signaled an imaginary opponent. He dropped his body to the right. "When you do that, the opponent will most likely to do the same. And remember, in feinting you need to be sneaky. And fast. Like a fox. Get it?" I nodded. "So, when he's still on the right side, don't wait for him to recover but instead you quickly, and I say very quickly, sprint past him. Like this."

He repeated the right drip of his shoulder then did it a couple times with both sides before taking the ball away by dribbling it with his instep. He's always been good on that. While I preferred the inside of my foot. We both sucked at using our outside.

"Do you have that all down?" he asked, wiping his glistening forehead with the end of his shirt.

"Yeah. I'm good to go." I said enthusiastically.

Dad smiled at me and motioned me to the field. "Then let's go set the net then."

Immediately, I ran to the red pickup truck that my Dad owned since he was twenty one. He loved it that he refused to sell it even though it has holes on the flooring, the seats looked like they were clawed by a dinosaur and the air- conditioner never worked.

We were both competitive in some points of our every day life. Like for that instance, getting the net from the car was compared to race. And also, when we play a one-on-one game - or practice - we just forget we're even blood related.

Even in chess. Arranging all the pieces before the other one does is a challenge.

"Ha! I won, I won!" I yelled victoriously as I hopped on the back of the truck. Dad jogged towards me, clutching his chest, coughing violently. I asked what's wrong, but he just waved it off and grinned like he had always did.

I got two of our mini nets and brought them back to the field. The left was his net, my goal and vice versa.

"I get to get all the brownies, right?" I asked as we finished setting up my net.

He nodded with a couch. "Yeah. It's all yours, big star."

I pumped my fist in the air. "One point for Peter Parker!"

He would've laughed but he didn't. Instead, he coughed his lungs out.

"Dad? Dad? Are you alright?" I asked but I knew he wasn't but kept on asking him anyway. He didn't stop from coughing. "Dad? Are you alright?"

I rubbed his back, intending to relax him a bit or lessen the coughing but it didn't. If anything, it went from bad to worse.

"Dad, I'm just going to get cough drops and water from the car to-"

"No. Stay here. I'm fine." he forced out with a tight smile. "Don't worry."

"No, Dad. I am worried. And obviously you're not fine. I'm not stupid. Or blind."

He stayed silent before coughing again.

"Dad, you need water."

He didn't answer as he put his hand over his mouth, muffling the sounds of his coughing.

Yeah, it's so not obvious now.

"Dad. I'm calling Mom."

He removed his hand then gasped sharply.

"Dad?"

No answer.

He wobbled and started breathing quickly like he was a woman giving birth. My heart hammered in my chest anxiously, my head flashing with questions. His hand gripped mine as his breathing got worst, his knuckled turning a scary white.

"Dad! Dad! I'm calling Mom! Dad! Stand up!"

His chest rose up and down so fast that it scared me shitless. I couldn't reach down on my pocket since his weight was leaning against me. His face was ghostly pale and I felt myself panicking and my heart thundering inside of me louder than ever.

"Dad! Dad! I'm calling Mom, okay?" I struggled to keep my voice sturdy and calm but deep inside I knew I was a mess. "Dad, I'm laying you on the grass and I'm going to-"

"No," his voice was husky and thick and I noticed it pained him to talk but did anyway. "No, I'll take us home. I'm fine."

"No, you can barely even sit up straight, Dad!" my voice rose in impatience. Why can't he just let me call? He stayed silent. "I'm calling Mom."

And immediately regretted taking my attention off of him for one second.

It wasn't the first time it happened but every time it did it scared the shit out of me. Fainting is a big deal and how could I drag a full-grown man across the park with my whole body trembling in nervousness?

"Dad!" I ran next to him and clutched his hand. "Dad! Holy shit!"

I called my Mom and they brought him to the hospital with me staying in the house for the night with my cousin.

"Is he going to be alright?" I had always asked myself that same question the entire night every three seconds.

And that night, that was the very night he didn't come back.