My football career was suddenly over. A knee injury in the fourth game of my senior year, what a way to go out. Even worse, it gave the school administrators, never my biggest fans, a reason to crack down on my admittedly overzealous campus life and lax academic standards. When I was the senior quarterback of a team in bowl contention, they'd let some things slide, when I was a student with a penchant for pranks, wild fraternity parties, and a tendency to miss any class before noon, that was a different story. In any event, I found myself suspended for the remainder of the Fall term. I wasn't too disappointed, I was only nine credits shy of graduation, with a degree in Philosophy (a BS major if ever there was one), and had a good shot of being a late round pick in the April Draft. However, it did mean I had to vacate my on campus housing until January. That is how I ended up back with Mom.
Katherine, as she was known to those who were not her only son, was 44, and a beautiful 44 at that. She had short red hair, stood just over 5' with a slim build, small pert breasts, and a lean swimmer's body. Her son, Evan, that would be me, on the other hand took after his father (who'd taken off before I was born), standing 6'5" and weighing about 220 lbs. I have short dark hair, peircing blue eyes and classic good looks. Mom had moved to Houston from Iowa when I landed my football scholarship at Rice. So, when I had to leave, my mother's home seemed like the best option.
It also served to keep my social life in good order. I was able to attend the team's last four home games, plus the Bayou Bucket game against crosstown rival, Houston. I could hang out with my teammates and my, several, girlfriends were within a few minutes driving distance as well. I was a little shy about having them over at first, after all I was a 22 year old man, shacking up with my mother.
However, mom was great about it, "Ev," she said, "this is your home, and I understand you're a young man, just try to keep it a little discrete."
That tended to be easier said than done as it turned out, as one of my girlfriends, Tammy, is a bit of a screamer. One night after a particularly rough and tumble, I passed mom's door and could see the light of her reading lamp on, I felt sorry and tried to apologize the next morning. "Mom, I'm really sorry about last night, I'll go over to Tammy's next time."
"Don't worry about it Evvy, other than the screaming, Tammy's my favorite. How do you get so many girls anyway."
