by Ponzo, Gary
It’s like there’s a film over her daughter’s eyes, a filter that screens out hope and brightness and worst of all, love.
Anna realizes she is responsible for that filter.
Now, she’ll do anything to get rid of it.
She’s about to seal the last envelope when there’s a knock on the door. She opens the door to reveal a man in uniform and for a brief moment, she worries it’s a cop, that Beth has done something to hurt herself and now they’re here to tell her that it’s too late, that she was too slow to save her daughter.
“Ma’am, I’m Samuel Ackerman,” he says.
She takes in his blue eyes, his strong face and for a moment, she sees Vince. But then the feeling is gone.
“I’m a recruiter with the Navy. I spoke to your daughter Beth yesterday.”
She takes his hand and they shake. “Come in,” she says, not even bothering to try to hide the fact that Beth hadn’t told her. Granted, she knew Beth was thinking about it, but didn’t know she’d gone this far.
A tremor of fear creeps up Anna’s spine. She can’t let Beth join the Navy. She’ll lose her just like she lost Vince. No way. Beth is going to college. She is going to get a scholarship thanks to these mailings and Anna is going to do everything in her power to keep Beth out of harm’s way.
“I just wanted to drop off some additional information for you daughter,” Samuel says. “Is she home?”
“No, she’s having physical therapy. On her knee.”
“Oh, okay,” he says, and produces several thick folders from the briefcase in his hand. “Then would it be all right if I left them with you?” he asks.
“Certainly.”
She leads him into the kitchen, takes the folders and puts them on the table next to the packages.
“You must be very proud of your daughter,” the recruiter says. Anna feels a flush of guilt. She is proud, she just hasn’t shown it.
“She’s a wonderful, brave girl,” she says. She looks at him, and sees that he’s looking at the envelopes on the table. “Have you ever seen her play basketball?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“She’s a warrior. That must sound funny to you, being in the military and all. But she’s a fighter. Always has been. And when she’s got a basketball in her hand--” she stops herself.
Checks her watch. The post office doesn’t close for another hour.
“Well why am I telling you? I should just show you.”
She goes to the computer, double clicks the movie file and hits PLAY.
Fifty-Eight
For the second time, Samuel finds himself momentarily forgetting about his plans, and like the first time, he finds himself thinking instead about Beth Fischer.
The video has been playing for only thirty seconds, but Samuel is already captivated by her play. Samuel knows confidence when he sees it. Having been a starter, practically a star, on both the Lake Orion football and basketball teams, he knows a pure talent when he sees one.
Beth Fischer simply has it.
The street expression about having game, about having skills, doesn’t apply to Beth, she’s beyond that. Samuel watches and it seems that everyone else is several steps behind her. Like a pro team playing against college kids.
Granted, he knows it’s a highlight film, so all of her mistakes, her turnovers, her bad passes, her missed shots during a cold streak, have all been edited out. Still, Samuel instinctively knows that there probably wasn’t a whole lot of editing. She’s the kind of player who doesn’t make many mistakes.
She’s a fucking lioness on the court. Her passes are crisp. Her shot one of pure, flawless motion. Her ball handling smooth and assured. Her defensive instincts sharp and always two moves ahead of her opponents.
There’s a beauty in her movements, an economy of effort, an abundance of grace. Samuel can’t pry his eyes from the television. Beth shoots. Beth steals. Beth rebounds. Beth fires a one-handed bounce pass that covers nearly three-quarters of the court; unerringly finding her teammate breaking to the basket for an easy layup.
And there’s one more play. Whoever shot the video, probably Lake Orion’s audio visual club, captures the clock in the background. Lake Orion down by a point. Less than twenty seconds left. Samuel watches, his palms sweaty, his heart beating faster, as Beth steals the ball and races down the court.
“Why…?” Anna says.
But Samuel is watching Beth’s legs fly, her arms pump as she takes the ball in strong and sure, watches as the short, stocky point guard crashes into her, watches as the ball falls through the hoop.
“Jesus Christ,” Samuel says.
“…is that in there?” Anna says. “The accident?”
Samuel turns to her, sees her pale face. Her hands are shaking. Hasn’t she watched the video? Or did she just not make it through until the end?
“The ultimate highlight,” Samuel says.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the ultimate highlight. It shows her winning the big game, making the ultimate score. It’s perfect.”
“But it shows her injury…”
“…and what a great sacrifice it was,” Samuel counters. “The ultimate sacrifice. Your daughter’s a winner, Mrs. Fischer. She’ll do whatever it takes to win. Whoever gets this video will see that in an instant.”
She stands stock still. Samuel can see that she’s momentarily at a loss for words.
“Mrs. Fischer?” he asks.
She jumps, as if he’d pinched her. She checks her watch. “Oh my God! I got so caught up in the tape…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to get these to the post office today - it closes in ten minutes and Beth’s got the car.”
“No problem, I’ll mail them for you.”
Samuel sees the flash of doubt pass through her eyes.
“If these coaches - I assume that’s who you’re sending it to - college coaches,” he says, his voice smooth and confident. Inviting trust. “If they don’t respond like I did, if they aren’t blown away by what she can do with a basketball, then they don’t deserve to coach her.”
The look of distrust disappears, replaced by a warm gratitude. “Oh thank you…”
“Samuel.”
“…Samuel. You don’t mind….”
“As much as I want her in the Navy, she belongs on a basketball court. If she doesn’t get a scholarship,” he spreads his hands wide, “then we’ll talk again. But until then, I’m glad to help. Your daughter can really play.”
Anna smiles and rushes back into the kitchen, scoops up the manila envelopes and places them in Samuel’s arms. “I haven’t told Beth about…sending these out. I’m not sure how she’d…well, she doesn’t know I’m doing it, okay?”
“Okay,” Samuel answers.
“All right, go. You’ve got my daughter’s future in your hands.”
“Happy to make the assist,” he says, then points to a thumb drive next to the computer. “What about that one?”
“That’s just an extra. Don’t worry about it.”
Samuel smiles.
“I better hurry, then.”
Fifty-Nine
Samuel glances at the packages on the seat beside him. They look like little goslings, waiting to take flight. Somehow innocent and embryonic. He knows they are the seeds that could grow into Beth’s future. Her dreams of playing basketball and going to college. It’s all wrapped up in these little packages, he thinks.
He has a brief image of he and Beth, together somehow. Why not? It makes perfect sense. Two athletic, good-looking people. One man, one young woman. Both with bright futures. Destined to do great things.
He drives through the main part of downtown Lake Orion. The sun is bright, and he feels blinded by the harsh images. The light seems to probe inward at him and he feels the pain in his temple. Goddamn, he thinks, massaging the pain away.
Finally, he sees a fast food restaurant and pulls in behind it.
The images of he and Beth
together dissolve with the scent of greasy burgers and fries. It could happen, he thinks. He’s had to live with a lot, he’ll live with the things he’s done for a long time.
He pulls the car in next to the dumpster, gets out, walks around the car, scoops up the envelopes and tosses them into the dumpster. He gets back in the car and drives away.
Samuel can live with what he’s done. And if Beth never knows, she can live with him.
Maybe even love him.
Sixty
Beth wants a neutral setting. Not her home. Not his home. All she can come up with is the Lake Orion gym. It’s open - for gymnastics practice.
She hobbles into the gym, the rubber bottom of her crutches squeak softly on the tile floor. Her brace is cinched tight over her sweat pants. Her Lake Orion letter jacket has a dusting of snow on her shoulders that instantly begins to melt. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
The smell comes back to her - all schools and their gyms smell the same. That odd combination of musty books and stale popcorn. She walks past the glass cases, ignores the pictures, medals and trophies.
At the door, she sees that the gymnastics squad has pulled out the mats along with all of their equipment; the parallel bars, the balance beam, the horse and the big mat for the floor routines.
Beneath it all is the basketball court.
It’s not the first time she’s been back since the accident, she came for the last game her team played - the one where they got blown out and Vanessa ran roughshod over them. But Beth was too shocked by what had happened, too blown away by the fact that her knee was gone. She was still in a daze. Now, standing at the door, she realizes the enormity of what happened. She looks at the gym, remembers the fans, the cheers, the screaming. The signs with her name on them, proclaiming her to be something bigger than life. It’s all gone now. Swallowed up by passing time. She’ll never hear any of that again.
It’s all gone.
Beth sees Peter waiting about five rows up around where half court would be. He’s dressed in jeans, black hiking boots and a black leather jacket. He looks good, Beth thinks. She walks along the perimeter of the court and when she gets to him, he starts to get up as if he’s going to help her.
“I can do it,” she snaps at him.
He sits back down.
Beth pivots and swings herself up, one leg at a time, and sits a few spaces down from him. She’s momentarily out of breath. A girl, Beth thinks her name is Kathy Brandemuhel, is doing a routine on the uneven bars. She finishes and does a dismount, stumbles, and falls to her knees.
“At first, I thought I would never want to see you again,” Beth says. Her voice is soft but firm.
Beth sees Peter flinch, but goes on.
“I don’t think there’s any way you’ll ever know how much you hurt me.” Her voice trembles, but she has to keep it together. After Samuel left, she’d thought about how she’d left it with Peter and realized that it wouldn’t do. She wasn’t one for loose ends and besides, they’d had quite a bit of time together, it just wasn’t right to end it like that. She needed to tell Peter what an awful thing it was for her and then she could move on. A clean break.
“To tell me that you wanted it - us - to continue-”
“Beth-” he begins, but Beth cuts him off.
“-that we would see each other after you went to Marquette and then…
“I didn’t-”
“…for you to…”
Peter turns to her, his face, flushed, his voice heated. “Look, Beth, it was a mistake. A terrible, rotten shitty mistake.”
“No, it was more than a mistake. A mistake is trivial. This was a breech of trust. A willful, destructive…” She stops herself. She didn’t come here to lay a guilt trip on him.
On the mat, a girl takes a running start and does three consecutive hand springs before flipping in the air and landing perfectly, her arms raised toward the ceiling.
“I came here,” she says, “for three reasons. One, I wanted you to know how much you hurt me.”
“You can cross that one off your list.”
“Two, I wanted you to know that it’s over and that I wish you luck at Marquette. I don’t have any bad wishes for you. I wanted you to know that I’m not that kind of person. You obviously had some…issues…emotions, or whatever, that you couldn’t tell me and so eventually they were communicated to me.”
“Jesus, Beth. Can I say anything?”
“Yeah, that’s number three. I want to know, for my own sake, no bullshit, why you did that. Why you were there with her. You don’t have to tell me, but I had to ask.”
She can see the hesitation in his eyes. Behind him, a girl takes a running start, hits the springboard, pushes off from the vaulting horse, does a flip in the air and lands, stumbling, but without falling.
“Tell me the truth, Peter. The only way you could hurt me again is to feed me some line of bullshit like I’m a total moron.”
He heaves a deep sigh and gets to his feet. Even at a time like this, he moves smoothly with a fluid grace. Beth always loved that about him, both on and off the court. Peter’s just…smooth. Always has been, always will be.
He starts talking, using his hands. “Okay, I’ve thought about it. At first, it seemed like it was the booze.” He stops and looks at Beth, an expression of frank, open honesty. “Like I drank too much, the music was loud, I was feeling good, she came on to me and I just turned my brain off. Before we met, before we started seeing each other, it happened once in awhile.”
He stops and puts his hands in his pockets. “But I knew that didn’t sound right. I’ve had plenty of other opportunities that I’ve never taken. So why now? Was it your injury? Was it Vanessa? Something about her? And I realized that it didn’t have anything to do with anyone but one person.” He stops and looks at Beth again.
“Me. It was all about me. It started with the scholarship. The full, tuition paid scholarship to Marquette to play ball and study and to get the hell out of Lake Orion. It went to my head. It went straight to my head and I’ve just been feeling like the king of the world. Big, great, Peter Forbes, big man on campus. What I did with Vanessa - it had nothing to do with you. That’s the god honest truth - good or bad - it was all about me. Egotistical, selfish, over-confident Peter Forbes. The golden boy with the platinum future. I just thought I was a god. I had a few drinks, she came on to me and I figured that there was a whole new world out there for me, beyond this town and I wanted to start having new experiences. That’s what great men do, right? They don’t do things normal men do. Vanessa, a girl I didn’t know - was kind of a jump start. The start of the new Peter Forbes future. Pretty pathetic, right?”
Beth can see the dark intensity on his face, the true ring of self-flagellation. He’s being honest.
“Afterward, I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. The scholarship? It’s not that big a deal. But at the time, I didn’t think that way. As soon as I got it, and accepted it, as soon as that part of my future was set, it’s like I was already forgetting about the people who helped me get to where I was going. Like some Hollywood star shitting on the folks back home-”
“Okay,” Beth says, “I’ve heard enough.”
“No, you haven’t. You haven’t heard enough. Because you know what? I’m a smart guy. Smart enough to know that I’m not a god - I’m just a slightly above average white basketball player who will have a moderately successful college basketball career and then if I’m lucky, play in Canada or Europe. If I exceed all expectations, I may have a season or two on the bench of some shitty NBA team - but that’s only if all the stars align perfectly. And you know what I don’t want to think about when I’m sitting on that bench? I don’t want to think about Beth Fischer - a class act, smart, funny, beautiful - who I threw away because of some supremely stupid arrogance created by a run-of-the-mill scholarship. So it’s not over, and I’m not going to let you piss away your future by joining the goddamn Navy, Beth.”
“What are you
talking about?” Beth says, the anger exploding from her. Several of the gymnasts turn to look at them, her voice echoing in the gym. “Who do you think you are? You fuck me over and then become my career advisor? I don’t think so.”
She gathers up her crutches.
“I’m not going to let it happen, Beth” Peter says. “I’m responsible for what happened, and your future isn’t going to be a part of the debris.”
She stands and negotiates her way down the bleachers to the gym floor. She turns back and looks at him.
“You had your chance to be someone important in my life, Peter. You definitely had a chance.”
She looks right into his eyes.
“But Vanessa sucked it right out of you.”
Sixty-One
The perfume is right. The makeup is right. The clothes are right.
It’s the knee that’s wrong.
The goddamned knee.
Beth, sitting on her bed, looks down at her leg, at the thick brace that joins the two normal parts of her leg like some mutant Tinker Toy. Like some kind of snap-together model. It’s thick and bulky and just plain ugly.
Slowly, she unbuckles the brace. She winces in pain, and thinks about what her doctor would say. What Judy her physical therapist would think. They would no doubt tell her that being impatient, that pushing things too soon will have only the opposite result; she’ll have to be in the brace longer, and do more physical therapy.
Well, hell, she thinks, I’ve got a date.
No, she corrects herself. It’s not a date. Samuel is a Navy recruiter and he wants me to join the Navy. It’s that simple, nothing more. This is business for him, a salesman working on closing the deal. It’s pleasure for me, she thinks. I’m already leaning toward going into the Navy, but I’m not going to tell him that. I need some male company and I like Samuel.