Luke placed the trophy on the shelf and took a moment to straighten it so the plaque faced outward. After a quick scan of shapes and words he’d long ago memorized, he sighed and turned to his wife. “One day.”
She nodded. “One day.”
Luke looked around the room at all of his trophies and led Mariah out of the trophy room, leaving the lights to her. Instead of checking on the kids, he moved into the living room and sat down on the couch.
A moment later, Mariah sat down next to him. “You’ll get one eventually. I know it.”
“I guess.” Luke raised and lowered a shoulder. “I’ve been playing sports for almost thirty years and I’ve never won. I’m getting a little tired of second and third place trophies.”
“Yeah, but you have more trophies than anyone I’ve met. That counts for something.”
“Tons of second and third place trophies aren’t an accomplishment.”
“Luke, you play a dozen sports a year. You’re an amazing coach to the kids and none of your teams would have come close to placing without you.”
Luke looked away from Mariah.“It doesn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.” Mariah pushed herself up to kiss him on the cheek and was settling back again when there was a crash from the den. Luke was in the room before she could get up.
When she arrived, she found him standing next to a fallen trophy case, broken trophies scattered on the floor.
Luke looked up to her. “Well, shit.”
Mariah smirked. “You had enough trophies to pull your trophy case off the wall. You don’t think that’s an accomplishment?”
Luke look at her for a moment before busting out laughing. “I guess I’ve come in first when it comes to having too many trophies.”