Lori was drop dead gorgeous. She had light brown hair, blonde highlights, bright blue eyes, a strong chin, and a smile with perfect white teeth. He couldn’t remember her ever wearing makeup. She didn’t need it.
Ben had suppressed a secret crush on her since middle school. He’d kept his feelings hidden from everyone, save Jack. Besides, she dated his friend Brandon, a senior who had played football with Jack at Grover Cleveland High. Ben, an upcoming sophomore, was a year behind Lori. The friendship had grown, but he feared he’d look stupid if he ever tried make a move on her.
“How ya doing?” Ben asked, as he sat next to Lori on the bench. He left two feet of space between them. Kipper turned and rolled down the little wooden ramp to the yard.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Lori said. She wore a shy smile.
“Sure. We can always talk. You know that. But let’s get out of here first. I need to breathe.”
Lori nodded. “Good. Up for a little run?”
Ben noticed she wore the white running shoes with the pink laces. The same shoes she wore for gym class.
“Sure.” A good run would help him de-funk. “Give me a minute to suit up.” Ben spied Kipper nosing around the grape arbor. “C’mon girl.” Kipper rolled up the ramp and into the house like a tiny horse drawn cart.
Ben clomped up the stairs and into his room. He changed into black running pants and a red tee shirt, but something seemed missing. He knelt on the floor, reached under the bed, and pulled out a shoebox. Inside, he found a yellow and black GC Tiger’s football jersey and pulled it over his head. The #14 jersey had the name “Fuller” sewn on the back. He looked into the mirror and shivered. He’d never worn his brother’s jersey in public before, but tonight felt right.
“Mom, I’m going for a run. Be back later,” Ben called into the darkness of the hallway past Jack’s empty room, but heard no reply. Assuming his mother had heard, he raced down the stairs and locked the front door behind him.
“Woo Hoo! Go Tigers.” Lori’s smile sparkled. “Nice jersey.”
“Jack’s.” His breath caught as he waited for her reaction.
“Looks good on you.” She tilted her head. “Never saw you wear it before.”
“First time. I wanted to feel like . . . he was running by my side.” He took a deep breath and let it out.
She searched his eyes and nodded. “I know how much you miss him. He’d be proud of you.”
“I’m not so sure, but thanks.” He stretched one knee toward his chest then the other. “Okay, let’s get out of Carlston. I need a long run.”
She smirked. “Reservoir far enough?”
Reservoir Park was where he and Jack had often played as children. “That’s four miles out. Eight round trip. Bring it on.”
“Just four. We’ll catch a ride back. There’s a party tonight.”
“Oh. Okay.” Reservoir Park had a picnic grove next to the lake that supplied drinking water for Carlston and the surrounding county. Ben suddenly felt uneasy about wearing the jersey, but didn’t want to appear weak in front her. “Let’s go.”
They hurried through the front gate, took a left, and jogged down the road into the twilight. The wind grew stronger. Lightning bugs blinked in the shadows. Clouds moved across the sky as a gibbous moon played peek-a-boo through the gaps. They ran side by side.
Ben looked over at her and raised his eyebrow. “You wanted to talk?” He often practiced his ‘enquiring look’ in the mirror, after watching Spock use it successfully on Captain Kirk. Ben tried it on Dad once and it worked. The look bounced off his mother as if she had a force field. Mom had given him the right eyebrow back, followed by her left. Stunned, he had to retreat. He wasn’t sure if it even worked on women.
Lori glanced at Ben and frowned. “Something in your eye?”
“Don’t think so.” No wonder Spock had trouble keeping a girlfriend.
“Can I ask you something, as a friend,” Lori said.
“Ask away.” Ben nodded, his eyebrows at rest.
“Do you have a date for homecoming yet?” Lori’s face was unreadable.
“Ah, no, not yet.’’ Why did she ask? He assumed she’d go with Brandon. Was something wrong? Brandon often drank too much at parties lately. Were they breaking up?
“Do you plan to ask somebody?” Lori’s eyes probed his mind. He swallowed. There were thoughts in there he didn’t want her to see.
“No, probably not. Kinda early to think about homecoming.” His face flushed. He’d never been to homecoming before, or on any official date for that matter. He’d kissed a girl once, but not much more than that.
“You’re going to be a sophomore, and it’s only three months away.” She shrugged. “You have to plan ahead. It’s a girl thing.”
“Okay,” Ben said, “but I haven’t even thought about asking anyone yet.”
“What if a girl asks you?”
“Uh, depends who it is?”
“Fair enough. Just keep an open mind. You should go.” Lori took off running again. Ben scrambled after her to catch up.
The sky grew darker as they ran past their high school. Grover Cleveland, a two story brick and block building with large windows, stood vigil in the twilight. Streetlights leaked a yellow glow upon the empty parking lot. Active during the day, the school seemed empty, sad, and silent after dark. They ran past without stopping.
Ben, curious about her question, let it run as a metaphorical subroutine in his brain for later dissection. Their feet pounded the pavement. He enjoyed the run and the rush of natural endorphins. It felt good to get out of the house and be with friends.
Three miles outside of Carlston on a dark county road, he saw few houses and fewer cars. Lori sprinted down the center line and turned left onto the old fire trail which led through the forest to the county reservoir. Ben always let Lori run ahead to set the pace. She was a good athlete, and moved across uneven ground like a doe bounding before a stag. He saw the beauty and grace in her movements, and fell into the cadence of the run.
They raced up a steady incline, just a quarter mile away from the ridge overlooking the reservoir. She increased her pace and Ben fired his after-burners to catch her. Was she in better condition? He felt ready for what came next. Whenever they ran together, the final stretch was invariably a sprint.
The tree tops on either side of the path swayed, like hands beckoning them forward. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. He drew closer. Only an arm span away. Her scent, a heady mixture of flowers and sweat, pulled at his senses. He shifted into sixth gear as they crested the ridge together.
The moon reflected across the dark inky water below like an ethereal road to nowhere. The reservoir and picnic grove lay 300 yards beyond the ridge and down a forty-five degree slope. Fifty or more people gathered around a campfire in the grove.
A football party. Ben slowed to a walk while Lori ran down the hill to the whoops of revelers. Below, a large figure hugged her and swung her around. Firelight flickered across Brandon’s handsome square-jawed face. Lori kissed him, and Brandon set her back on her feet. She turned, glanced back at Ben, and motioned him downward.
He pulled at his jersey and his face flushed. He had second and third thoughts about wearing something he hadn’t earned. Something Jack could never wear again. Sadness washed over and through him, but he fought his urge to beam back to the safety of his dark room. He walked down to the party alone. A funeral procession of one.
Chapter 4
Patrick relaxed on a green leather seat inside a passenger train bound for Carmichael, PA. He always rode facing opposite to the direction the train traveled. Any quick stops would lean him back into the seat, rather than jolting him forward and awake. He placed his ticket into the slot above the seat for the conductor, Old Rob, who’d worked this train for forty years.
Patrick closed his eyes. Had his after dinner comments regarding Betty and Jack helped more than hurt? Though Patty remained fragile since the accident, Ben definitely nee
ded some shade. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
A three-year-old Ben had first called him ‘GranPat,’ and Betty had loved the nickname. Over the years he’d been called Patrick, Paddy, Captain McDugan, Dr. McDugan, and other assorted monikers, but he liked GranPat best.
Click, Click, Click. The conductor moved up the aisle behind him punching tickets.
Outside the window, homes, small towns, and shopping centers passed by in the darkness. Patrick saw his own reflection in the window and winced. When had he become an old man? In his mind and heart, he felt much younger.
Click, Click, Click.
The conductor’s reflection appeared in the window. That’s not Old Rob. Patrick turned.
Without a word, a large uniformed man with a bulbous nose knelt on the empty seat next to him. Instead of taking his ticket, the conductor grabbed Patrick’s neck and jammed his face against the glass window. The force cracked Patrick’s dark rimmed glasses.
As he fought to pry off the man’s left hand, the conductor’s right hand approached with a hypodermic needle. Patrick’s eyes bulged as he felt a sharp sting between his neck and right shoulder. A slow fuzzy burn crawled up his neck to his brain until he slumped into darkness.
John came home to a nearly dark house. Kipper met him at the door. Her tongue moved with each breath, and her eyes seemed hopeful. “Hi, girl. Where is everybody?”
He walked through the dark foyer, dining room, and into the kitchen, where the forty-watt bulb above the electric stove provided faint illumination. The food had been put away, but the pile of dirty pots and pans lay in the sink like a cry for help.
His cell chirped. He read the text, checked his appointment calendar, and responded. Good. Another new customer. His fingers hovered over an earlier text from L.D., but he erased it without responding.
Kipper barked and wheeled out of the kitchen.
John followed his favorite pup unto the foyer. She had both front feet on the bottom step and her eyes stared at the second floor landing. ‘Upstairs’ remained beyond Kipper’s reach since the accident. “Best stay down here, Kips,” he murmured in his church voice. “I’ll check on her.”
Without a sound, John tiptoed upstairs in a house already too quiet for words. His brown eyes peered into the darkness of Ben’s room. Out and about. Further down the hall, light crept from beneath Jack’s bedroom door. As John grew closer, he heard Patty’s mournful prayers within. He frowned. Lord have mercy. It’s been two years.
Whenever Patty wrapped herself in grief, they all suffered. John didn’t feel equipped to help her, and Patty had refused his suggestions to seek family counseling. He just wanted everyone to move on and live a normal life, including Ben, who still blamed himself for what happened to Jack. John’s chest tightened. God forgive me. Sometimes I blame him too.
John knocked on Jack’s door and went inside. Patty knelt on the shag carpet beside the empty bed with her forehead cradled in her hands. He knelt beside her, as if he they were in church, and put his right arm around her. As he held his wife, her breathing calmed. He remained silent as her weary eyes spoke volumes. After a moment, they helped each other stand. Sometimes words weren’t necessary in a quiet house.
Patty smoothed the bed where her weight had wrinkled the bedspread. She pulled it taut, until the covering laid flat. John stood near the open door as his wife took a slow turn around the room. Once satisfied, she walked past him toward their bedroom.
John surveyed his son’s room. Jack’s picture on the dresser smiled back, football and track trophies stood tall upon the shelf, and a pile of textbooks rested on the desk. Jack had showed so much potential as the handsome charmer, happy joker, natural athlete, and class president. He wanted to be a surgeon . . . and save lives. Instead, Jack gave his life to save his little brother.
John needed to be strong for his wife, and Ben. He didn’t want to lose them as well. He sighed and turned off the light. His eyes searched the dark hall leading to their bedroom. The gloom felt impenetrable. He retreated downstairs where Kipper and the pots and pans waited.
Ben walked the rest of the way down to the party sweating. He knew he should stop and stretch to keep his leg muscles from tightening, but he didn’t want to draw attention. Scanning the crowd, he saw an even mix of girls and boys, mostly juniors and seniors, and some who looked older. Only a few would be Ben’s fellow sophomores. Near the fire, stood at least seven of Jack’s old friends drinking beer from red plastic cups.
Others gathered near Brandon’s blue four door Chevy Silverado and filled their cups from a shiny aluminum quarter keg on the tailgate. Almost everyone appeared under age. He hoped they wouldn’t get busted by the state or park police.
“Ben! Over here,” Lori called. She stood with a group between the fire pit and the picnic tables. Two girls he didn’t recognize stood near her. One wore sparkly glitter on her eyelids and the other Goth-like makeup. As he approached, their eyes appraised him.
Brandon’s hand laid claim to Lori’s shoulder. Tall and thickly muscled, his green John Deere tee shirt strained at the seams. His red mustache accentuated his perpetual smirk and made him look smug, but Ben knew it was just how Brandon smiled. He’s one of the good guys.
Brandon, also a good friend of Jack’s, knew Ben from the wrestling team. Ben had earned the 138-pound spot on the varsity team as a freshman and held a 13-5 record. Brandon wrestled at heavyweight, and crunched bones on the mat as well as the football field.
During football season, Brandon played linebacker. He’d persuaded Ben to switch from running back to wide receiver, in an effort to move him from the JV squad to the varsity football team in the fall. Brandon recognized the strengths and weaknesses of the teams and players, and knew how to fill the gaps. He also showed a head for strategy and might make a good coach someday.
“Dude. Heard you were chasing after my girlfriend,” Brandon growled.
“What?” Ben cringed. His eyes moved from Brandon’s smirk to Lori’s smile.
“She beat you to the top of the hill. Again,” Brandon said. “I keep telling her to forget about cheering and run cross country. What do you think?”
Ben exhaled. “I agree. She can really fly.”
Brandon held out his closed hand and exchanged a fist bump with Ben.
“But I love to cheer,” Lori said. “Maybe I could run track in the spring. Besides, I want to travel with the football team and watch you all play.”
“Think about it. You could earn a scholarship.” Brandon said.
Lori’s lips tightened. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Brandon nodded, handed Ben a beverage, and left to check the keg.
Ben eyed the beer, but didn’t drink. He didn’t like the taste. At last year’s family reunion, he’d tried a sip of Uncle Tony’s beer, but spat it out as the big man laughed.
Besides, if he and his friends were caught drinking, they’d all be suspended from sports. They could take their chances, but he was only fifteen. Dad told him if he would refrain from drinking alcohol until he was 21, he’d give Ben 500 dollars. Ben had asked his father how he would know for sure. “Because I trust you to tell the truth,” Dad had said.
“Ben, this is Trudy,” Lori said, nodding to a thin brunette wearing eye glitter and a pink ‘Pink’ the singer tee shirt. “And this is Trudy’s big sister, Rouge.”
Close up Rouge’s hair was unnaturally red. She wore eye shadow and dark lipstick. Her large breasts were jammed under a tight black ‘Ozzie’ tee. She sported ear studs and a gold hoop earring in her nose. Rouge held a beer in each hand, which seemed to add to her stylish symmetry.
“Hi and hello,” Ben said. He raised his glass, but didn’t drink.
Lori’s laugh lines showed in the firelight. “They’re my cousins. Trudy and Rouge are transferring to Grover Cleveland this fall from Cranberry High.”
“Cool. What grades?”
“I’ll be a sophomore,” Trudy said. “Rouge is a junior.” Trudy’s cheek
bones and lips resembled Lori’s, but not her eyes.
“I’m a sophomore too,” Ben said.
“I know.” Trudy said. “Heard all about you.”
Ben blinked. He turned to Lori with both eyebrows raised, and tilted his head toward Trudy.
Lori nodded with a smile.
Ben tried to imagine dancing with Trudy at homecoming. They held each other on a crowded floor in the gymnasium. Trudy wore a pink homecoming dress, white orchid corsage, and . . . white running shoes with pink laces. When he glanced back up at Trudy’s face, Lori’s image smiled back wearing red lipstick. Stop.
“Ooohh, take a picture,” Rouge said grinning.
“Okay,” Trudy said, as she set her beer on the nearby picnic table and pulled out her cell phone. She raised her camera to take a group picture of Lori, Rouge, and Ben.
Ben frowned and moved his beer behind his back in time to keep it out of the shot.
“What’s wrong?” Trudy said.
“Just hiding my beer. Can’t be the best football player ever if the principal throw’s me off the team for drinking.” Ben’s eyes caught movement on his left.
Vince, a tall, muscular boy with his brown hair pulled into a topknot walked into their group carrying a red cup. At six foot four, and at least 220 pounds, he played defensive back for the GC Tigers. Vince nodded to Lori, then smiled at Trudy.
“Don’t worry, Ben,” Trudy said as her eyes scanned the party. “They can’t kick everyone off the team.” She brushed an errant bang back across her forehead and showed Ben the picture. “See? No beer.”
Vince looked over Trudy’s shoulder at the picture and frowned.
“Mmmm,” Trudy said, “you look good in your jersey.” She smiled at him. “I bet you’re really good.”
Ben grimaced. “I—”
“Hah!” Vince pushed between Trudy and Ben. “You can take a picture of me and my beer, sweetie. I’m no wussie.” His toothy smile flashed at Trudy as she snapped a picture.
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