by Hazel Kelly
“If this is your way of trying to break up with me, you needn’t go to all this trouble.”
I waved my hands between us. “For fuck’s sake, Rosie. It’s not about you. Christ. Nothing has ever been less about you.”
She bit the inside of her cheek.
I had no choice but to tell her. Her mind was just going to keep playing games with her otherwise, filling her head with a load of crap that would make her insecure for no reason. “Okay. Fine. But this is off the record.”
“Of course,” she said.
“No one else knows this shit, and no one else is going to.”
“Okay.”
“If you care about me at all, you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“I understand,” she said. “I will.”
That’s when it occurred to me that I didn’t even know what words to use or where to start. I’d never tried to name or describe the situation to anyone. Even when it came to Patrick, I never used any more words than were necessary.
“Luke.”
“My family is in some trouble right now.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“My dad—” My mouth twisted like it didn’t want to say the words. “He’s an alcoholic.”
Her eyes drooped at the corners.
“And he uses my mom as a punching bag.”
She swallowed.
“And if that weren’t bad enough, it’s all going down in front of Patrick who’s—” My eyes started to water. “Who’s been through enough.”
“How long has this been going on?”
I tilted my head back and blinked to keep the moisture in my eyes. “Years. It’s been going on for years.”
“And something happened in the last few days?”
“Just another blow up.” I looked away from her.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Now that my mom finally went for stitches and isn’t bleeding from the face on Patrick’s school run.”
“Jesus.”
“Anyway, Sunday I wanted to give you some space,” I said. “Also, I slept all day.”
“Me too.”
“And Monday’s when I found out my dad’s gone off the rails again.”
“How did you—”
“Patrick called me.”
She nodded.
“I’m afraid he’s going to kill her, Rosie.” I covered my mouth and inhaled sharply, astonished by what I’d just said.
She stood up and put her hands on my shoulders.
I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid he’s going to come back one night, blind drunk, and do something Patrick will never be able to unsee.”
“Shhh.” She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her cheek to mine.
“So I’m sorry I didn’t call, but—”
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I was being selfish, as usual.”
“You’re not selfish,” I said, unwrapping her arms so I could look at her. “You’re perfect.”
One side of her mouth twitched, so I saw a quick flash of dimple.
“And I’m crazy about you,” I said. “I just can’t get game ready for Saturday, figure out how to help my family, and be the man you deserve all at once.”
“I understand.”
“And I guess I was just hoping that, since you waited so long for me already, you might be more patient with me than my coach.”
She leaned over and pressed her forehead against mine. “You don’t have to do all this alone.”
“No. My mom does, though, and I can’t convince her for the life of me that there’s no fate worse than the one she’s living every day.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked, leaning up.
“I don’t know. If I think of anything, I’ll tell you. Trust me. But right now I just have to figure out how to get this situation under control without being completely strung out on Saturday, since football is the best shot I have at taking care of them long term.”
“Fuck, Luke.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have all this on your shoulders.”
“It is what it is.”
“Still, this is some heavy stuff,” she said. “Have you considered talking to someone about it?”
“No. Well, not besides you just now, but I think we both know this conversation wasn’t my idea.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But the situation has reached a breaking point, so until I think of something, I can’t do anything I really want to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like kiss you all over and make you cheesy love mixes.”
She smiled. “I want that, too.”
I reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Saturday was—”
“I know,” she said. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way.”
I stood and lifted her chin up. “That was nothing, Rosie. There are so many things I want to give you, things I want to do with you—and to you.”
Her eyes sprang into little crescents.
“Letting you get away before was the biggest mistake I ever made.” I dragged my thumb across her cheekbone. “It won’t happen again, I assure you.”
She cast her eyes down and then back up at me. “I don’t want to get away,” she said, putting her hands on my waist. “I want to stay with you. No matter what kind of shit you’re in.”
I leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, my whole body coming to life at her touch. And although I felt especially vulnerable after opening up to her, it hadn’t been as painful as I thought it would be.
And for the first time ever, real hope seemed within reach.
T H I R T Y T H R E E
- Rosie -
He actually got to play.
After swearing up and down that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, he made it off the bench. He probably wouldn’t have if our team hadn’t been up by six touchdowns in the final quarter, but I was delighted to have a front row seat for Luke’s debut.
It was a thrill to see him in his tight, shiny pants, and now that we were a thing, watching him play seemed exponentially more exciting.
And it was fun seeing Nikki in action, too, her enthusiastic shouts punctuated by sharp nods that made it clear even her high ponytail was a valued member of the squad.
When we won, the crowd went wild, and I could tell Josie was worried about the noise. I stood by, anxious to see her in action while Stewie, the cameraman, set up his gear.
“I’ll count us down,” Josie said.
Stewie pressed his eye to the viewfinder, and his face dropped.
“What?” Josie asked, posing with the mike.
He lifted his head. “Is that—?”
“What?” she asked. “Spit it out. We’ve only got a minute.”
He squinted at her. “I think you smudged your lipstick.”
When I saw what he was referring to, I felt sick, and as soon as Josie pulled a compact out of her bag and checked, the color drained from her face. That’s when I knew for sure it wasn’t a lipstick smudge. It was a cold sore. “Right,” she said, slamming the compact shut. “Come here, Rosie. You’re up.”
My mouth fell open.
Josie stomped a foot and pointed at the ground beside her. “Rosie!”
My heart started beating through my chest as I approached her, glancing back at Stewie like I expected him to throw me a life preserver. “I don’t think I’m ready for—”
“We really don’t have time for that,” she said.
“But I can’t—”
“You have to,” she said, fixing her eyes on me. “Did you watch the tapes I sent you?”
“Yes,” I said, wishing I hadn’t been painting my nails at the time.
“Good,” she said. “So you know what to do.”
“Thirty seconds,” Stewie said, dropping his face behind the camera.
“Remind me?” I asked, convinced I was hav
ing my first real anxiety attack.
She shoved the mike at me. “Say who you are. Describe the outcome. Then give a brief overview of each quarter before signing off.”
I looked over her shoulder when she started messing with my hair. Ten feet away, Luke was standing in his muddy uniform, his hair styled with sweat, and a big smile across his face.
“Eyes on me,” Stewie said.
I squared my shoulders to him and wondered if I could projectile vomit far enough to coat the lens before this train wreck was captured on tape.
“You got this,” Josie said, patting my shoulder. “I owe you one.”
“Ten seconds,” Stewie said.
Josie joined him behind the camera and started counting down. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”
What was I supposed to do after I introduced myself?
“Six, five…”
I looked at the scoreboard one last time. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Four, three—”
Someone walked by and pulled my glasses off.
I couldn’t see anything. The entire stadium looked like a bubbling sea of colors behind the only thing I could make out—the black camera in front of me. I opened my mouth and closed it again. Did Josie say one yet? She must have.
I blinked, but I did not miraculously regain my vision. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Rosie Bennet, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I’ve never been prouder to be a Titan.”
After that, I blacked out. Yes, I kept talking, but I had no idea what I was saying. I think I mentioned some football words, like yards and touchdowns and tackles, but the order I put them in was unlike anything a football fan would be used to.
And while my spoken words seemed as blurry as my vision, I could feel myself making up outrageous analogies and calling players by unprofessional nicknames.
To make a long story short, I was babbling.
When I saw a hand wave near the camera, I signed off abruptly and then just stood there. Dying.
“That’s a wrap,” Stewie said.
A split second later, a shadow appeared in front of me, picked me up, and kissed me on the lips. I fluttered my fists against a padded chest and demanded to be put down. When my kicking feet reached the grass, I felt someone press my glasses into my hand, and I put them on as fast as I could.
Luke was standing before me, his sweaty face glowing.
“What the hell?” I said, my fingers shaking.
“You were great!” he said.
“That was you?” I asked. “You took my glasses?”
He shrugged.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“It was your big debut,” he said. “I thought it would go better if—”
“If I couldn’t see?!”
His face fell. “If you didn’t hide behind them.”
“Hide behind them?! I couldn’t see anything! I don’t even know what I said!”
“You were great,” Stewie shouted from behind him. “Don’t worry.”
I glared at Luke. “I made an ass of myself because of you.”
“I’m sorry, Rosie, I thought—”
“No you didn’t! You didn’t think!” I gestured towards the field. “I didn’t interfere with your big break, did I?”
He clenched his jaw.
“And then you run up and kiss me when you know I can’t see who you are?! That’s not okay!” I was still shaking with anger when someone called Luke’s name.
“Can we talk about this later?” he asked, tilting his head towards his teammates.
“Are you kidding me? If I’m lucky, no one will ever talk about this again.”
His eyes turned down at the corners right before he jogged away, and I didn’t even turn to watch him go. I felt too sick, too crazed, too panicked. Eventually, I raised my eyes from the short grass to where Josie was helping Stewie pack his gear. “How bad was it?” I asked. “Seriously.”
“It was fine,” Josie said without the conviction I was hoping for. “You got creative with some of your analogies, but I’m sure the viewers knew what you meant.”
The viewers. My parents. Professor Hopkins. Twenty-four thousand other people. Well, not that many. It’s not like everyone at the school was watching. It was probably more like five thousand at a push. But still. How mortifying.
“I know I put you on the spot,” she said. “But I had no choice. I have interviews lined up for next month, and I don’t want footage of me with this… Anyway, I owe you one.”
“I’m glad I could help,” I lied.
“Me too,” she said. “Sorry about your glasses though. I didn’t even see him coming.”
I sighed. “Me neither.”
“You should really get contacts.”
“I didn’t think I was going to be in front of the camera!”
“Well,” she said. “I guess if there’s anything you can learn from this, it’s always be prepared.”
I clenched my fists and wondered how well her interviews would go with a cold sore and a broken nose, but ultimately, I decided that attacking my would-be mentor would only make this disastrous day worse.
T H I R T Y F O U R
- Luke -
I never meant to upset her. That was the last thing I wanted. Surely she knew that.
Maybe it was immature of me to grab her glasses, but in the moment before I did it, I couldn’t think of any big-time news anchors who wore them. Not that I didn’t think Rosie was talented enough to be original, but I was only trying to help.
At the time, I thought it was pretty unselfish of me, too, because I like her glasses. I just thought she’d have wilder appeal if—I don’t know. Obviously I fucked up.
I thought she would forgive me, though. I thought she would come out to celebrate the fact that we’d both had such a victorious day. Instead, she wouldn’t return my calls.
I tried not to let it bring me down, but my victory felt empty without her there to celebrate it with me. And when I ran into Nikki that night, she told me to give Rosie some space. That’s when I realized I must’ve fucked up worse than I thought, and I left immediately to go find her.
She still wasn’t answering my calls, but I could hear her phone ringing on the other side of her door right before I knocked on it. “Rosie, it’s me.”
Silence.
“Open the door, Rosie. I need to talk to you.”
“Go away. I’m busy.”
I dropped my head against the door and lowered my voice. “Please?”
“You’re drunk,” she said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not drunk.” I looked up and down the hall and then breathed into my hand to check if I reeked of beer. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself.”
I sat down and leaned back against the door, knowing she couldn’t stay in there forever. Eventually, she would have to go to the bathroom or something, and I’d be able to talk to her. For at least as long as she was in the hall.
I hung my head for a while, and when my neck started to feel the strain, I dropped it back against the door.
“Are you still out there?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Can’t you tell I’m pissed at you?” she said. “Why don’t you take a hint?”
“I came to apologize.”
She scoffed.
“Come on, Rosie. You’re being ridiculous.”
She threw the door open so fast I fell backwards. “Ridiculous?! You sabotaged me.”
I scrambled to my feet. “No, I didn’t. You did great.”
She closed the door behind me, and when she turned around, I saw that her eyes were puffy. “I don’t even know what I said. All I know is that I made an ass of myself.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did,” she said, her red eyes glaring. “I was babbling. I didn’t even make sense.”
“You were funny.”
“Funny?!” The flush in her cheeks rose up her forehead. “Funny?! Luke, bein
g a journalist is my dream! Can you imagine if you came off the field today and someone said you played funny? That’s the last thing I was supposed to be.”
“You were funny in a good way,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Trusting you is a mistake I won’t make again.”
“Come on, Rosie. Don’t be like that.” I put a hand on her shoulder, but she sloughed it off. “I was trying to help.”
“How exactly were you trying to help?” she asked, putting distance between us again.
“I thought you would look more professional without your glass—”
“I looked like a blinking idiot.”
“You looked great.”
She sighed. “I thought you liked my glasses.”
“I do,” I said. “I think they’re adorable.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“But I didn’t think you wanted to come across as adorable, and I couldn’t think of any professional female newscasters who wear glasses.”
“What?! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” she said. “I can think of tons of reporters who wear glasses.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said. “I thought you actually liked me for me, and even my glasses embarrass you. What a fucking joke.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “There’s no way you could ever be as sorry as I was this afternoon. I thought I was having an anxiety attack.”
“Rosi—”
“You’re supposed to have my back, and you made a fool out of me in front of everyone.”
My heart ached. I didn’t know what to say to calm her down.
“But I’m glad you were amused,” she said, sitting down at her desk. “Even if you are just a bully.”
I swallowed.
“Like your dad.”
My face fell, and my guts bottomed out, but she didn’t even look at me when she said it. She just kept her eyes on her computer screen.
I wanted to say something in my defense. I wanted to do anything but leave, but I couldn’t stop myself from walking out and slamming the door behind me.