Touchdown

by Yael Levy

  Charlie appeared in the doorway. Instead of his white suit he wore an army uniform—or was it the Air Force? But the uniform looked retro . . . Goldie had seen enough old movies to guess that he was dressed as a pilot during World War II. This dream seemed so familiar, as if it happened before . . .

  Charlie held out his hand and showed her an earring. “It was under the bed, like I thought,” he said. He sauntered up to her and Goldie felt her heart beat rapidly as Charlie fastened the earring on her ear. She could smell the soap from his freshly washed uniform mixed with his own sweat—he smelled like Charlie, her Charlie. His closeness made her feel warm, protected . . . safe.

  “Any chance they’ll extend your furlough?” she heard herself say.

  Charlie grinned, sadly, and brushed her hair behind her hair. “You know I wish I could stay . . . ”

  Goldie found tears dripping down her cheeks. “I don’t know how I’ll live without you.”

  Charlie held her close and Goldie felt like she would burst with sadness, yet also felt so . . . loved. She had never, ever felt that connection before in her life.

  Charlie placed one hand on the small of her back and gently swayed with her to the sound of the music. “It’s my duty,” he said softly. “You know I must go.”

  “But what if—”

  “Shh, don’t say it,” he said and placed his finger on her lips.

  She started to cry and he did, too. “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too, Charlie,” she responded. “But—”

  “No buts. Lets get married. Now.”

  “Okay.” Goldie nodded and held Charlie’s hand as they danced together to the song.

  Charlie stared at her. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “I won’t,” she said. “I’ll be brave. I’ll be right here waiting for you to come home.” She held him close. “Forever.”

  “Forever’s not so long,” he said, and leaned in, embracing her with a kiss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Hey, Clay? Are you here?” Leigh shone her flashlight by the intersection where Clay had asked her to meet him.

  “Hey,” Clay said as he went up to his friend. “I thought you’d never come.”

  “Really?” Leigh stared at him. “You thought I’d leave you to get through this mess alone?”

  Clay jumped in her car and gave Leigh a bear hug. “No, Leigh, I guess not. I never doubted you for a minute.”

  “So where to?”

  Clay shrugged. “Cops could be after me, so we have to lay low.”

  Leigh laughed. “Can’t go back home. Your own dad would turn you in.”

  “How about we go to Stone Mountain?” Clay nodded in the direction of the national landmark. “I really need to sort out what’s going on with that allegation before I dare show my face in public.”

  Leigh looked at Clay. “You’re right on that. Everybody’s talking about what you did. Maybe you should turn yourself in and work it out?”

  Clay shook his head. “I don’t know how to prove I didn’t do it. And if they put me in jail then my career is over before it even began.”

  Leigh agreed. “But you’ll have to take care of this. You can’t run forever.”

  Clay exhaled. “I know. And I will. I just promised a friend something—”

  “Who? A friend from the team?”

  “No . . . Someone else.”

  When they arrived at the parking area on the mountain, Clay got out of the car and took a deep breath. He stared silently ahead, trying to collect his thoughts.

  Clay said nothing as he and Leigh stepped onto the gravel. The stillness made Clay nervous, but these days, a lot of things did. How could he have fumbled the play? And run from a cop?

  Clay observed the giant dark mountain that loomed over him. He felt like an ant. A skittering ant that deserved to be crushed by a big muddy boot.

  They walked towards the laser show field. The normally friendly tourist shops seemed to leer at Clay as he passed. He felt unease in this place, an unusual sensation. He had fond memories of visiting the glass blowing shop as a child. He remembered when he had pressed his face to the clear divider and watched in awe as the grizzled man shaped the molten glass into a seashell. It had lemon and blue swirls and sparkled in the lights. He’d tugged on his father’s shirt wanting one, as proof that something so awesome could be created. But his dad had said no and wouldn’t pay for it, insisting it was “overpriced worthless fairy trinkets,” and “why would a boy want one of those to begin with?”

  Clay frowned. Well, maybe not such fond memories.

  “Are you doing okay?” Leigh finally asked him.

  Clay shrugged. “I’m tired, that’s all.” The eerie breeze rustled the wind chimes and the moonlight cast an unearthly glow to the shop windows.

  They continued hiking until they arrived at the vast field, where they sat down with a thump.

  “Do you want to talk about what’s been going on?” Leigh asked.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Clay said, and stared up at the Civil War confederate leaders, carved out of the mountain, like a southern Mount Rushmore.

  Leigh leaned back, beside him. “I know you’ve been going through a rough time with the games and . . . ”

  Clay shook his head. “It isn’t that. I don’t think so, anyway.”

  Clay stared at the chiseled portraits on the mountain. Their angled faces were cut with shadow and their piercing eyes glared down at him. He leaned back on the meadow beside Leigh and stared up at the stars. The sprinkling of lights in the night sky seemed to go on forever. The universe was so mighty, and he felt so messed up, so alone.

  Except for Leigh. She was the only person in the universe that took away the loneliness, and with her, he felt good. She always brought out the best in him and he never quite acknowledged that. How could he? He was always busy with the team and whatever it took to get ahead. No way he could he ever date a “grease monkey.” It hadn’t fit into his group. Hadn’t mixed well into his life.

  “Clay, I’m here for you,” Leigh said simply.

  “I know. You’re the only one who ever was.” Her ponytail had come loose and Clay glanced at her as the moonlight cast a soft shadow on her face. “You look pretty with your hair down like that,” he said.

  Leigh swallowed. “Why are you saying that?”

  “Because you do.”

  “I thought only cheerleaders and sorority girls could be pretty,” Leigh said and quickly looked away.

  “There are all kinds of beauty,” Clay said. “Anyway, it’s over between us. Carolyn and I are just friends.”

  “Really?” Leigh stared at Clay.

  Clay shrugged. “She was only with me because I was the quarterback. Now, I don’t know what’s happening with my football career, so . . . ”

  Leigh shrugged. “I get it.”

  Clay sat up. “Leigh, I was wondering—would you ever want to, uh—”

  Leigh nodded. “Want to what, Clay?”

  “I mean, could you ever . . . you know . . . date me?”

  Leigh raised her eyebrows. “Cause you broke up with Carolyn and you messed up with your team . . . so now you’re a loser like me?”

  Clay swallowed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Sure you didn’t.” Leigh stood up. “If you called me out here just to—”

  Clay jumped up beside her. “Leigh! It’s not like that—”

  “All these years I’ve hoped for this day, I’ve wished you’d tell me that you cared about me like that. And now I’m just leftovers? Everybody thinks the hero’s a moron so now it’s time to date good ole dependable Leigh?”

  “Leigh, please don’t be like that. It’s true, I’ve been dumb, caring about what everybody thinks, but I’m changing . . . ”

  Leigh shook her head. “Just don’t.” She turned to leave.

  Rain started to pelt the field and a bolt of lightning shot through it. “Let’s get to shelter and we can ta
lk this through. The old houses over there—”

  Leigh looked to where he was pointing. “Uh, uh, don’t distract me. We both know you’d never ask me to be with you if you had a better choice.”

  “For crying out loud, Leigh—could you give me a chance?” Clay trailed after her. “I thought you were here for me and wanted to hear me out!” The rain started coming down hard. “C’mon, Leigh, let’s get to those homes.”

  She turned from him. “I need to think.”

  “Please,” he said, but she’d already left him standing alone in the field full of grass, rain, and starlight.

  • • •

  “This is boring,” Goldie announced, as she was forced to stare at the stars. “If you are going to feel sorry for yourself, Clay, then do it in a proper room, where you can collapse on your bed and sob into your pillow. At least that way you can beat yourself up appropriately, and also not get grass stains on your pants,” she sagely advised. “And can I ask why you are standing alone in the rain like someone from an old movie?”

  “Oh, you’re back. I was wondering about that. The only beds here are in those old antebellum homes that they use as a museum,” Clay said, and gestured vaguely toward a home with four columns in the front. “They’re roped off—people aren’t supposed touch the furniture.”

  Goldie paused. “Don’t be silly, Clay?” she said. “Just step over the ropes.”

  “Hey, I’m tired,” Clay said defensively. “It’s been a long day. And night. Thanks to you,” he added bitterly.

  “Just get over it already,” Goldie exclaimed. “I have more important things to do than to soothe your broken ego. We need to get to New York to save my fiancé. We have a witch to stop!”

  “What witch?” Clay asked, but he didn’t have the energy to hear the answer. “My best friend just left us here, Goldie. New York will have to wait.”

  “Well, it can’t,” Goldie said. “So let’s go!”

  “How? I have no car here.”

  “So we’ll hitchhike.”

  “To New York. Are you insane?” Clay said and leaned his head back. “I put in a full day. No way am I hitchhiking to someplace nine hundred miles away.”

  “It shouldn’t be too far to the airport,” Goldie said.

  “You’re exasperating. And I’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “Fine, but we’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

  And with that, Clay hiked to the antebellum houses and entered one. When he found a bed—at Goldie’s urging—he then promptly fell fast asleep.

  • • •

  “Hello! Anybody here? I’m bored!” Goldie sang. She loitered in front of the decrepit houses and kicked at the pebbles. “This guy has been sleeping for a while. And if I try to get him to New York when he is so exhausted he’ll get sick. Last thing I need is a septic football player on my hands.” With a dramatic sigh, she collapsed on a wheelbarrow and stared around the big houses. “If you ask me, you should knock all of this down,” she said to Clay matter-of-factly, though he’d fallen fast asleep.

  She stared at the peeling faded white walls and rickety steps. “These houses are old.”

  “I spent my life in that house,” a woman’s voice sounded from behind her.

  “Aiee!” Goldie shrieked and lost her balance. She toppled off the wheelbarrow and looked up at the woman, then scrambled to her feet. “Who are you? How can you hear me? And what are you doing scaring people like that?”

  The young woman stepped forward into the moonlight. She was small and dark, dressed in a tattered apron. Her curly hair was tied back in a neat bun and revealed a gaunt pinched face that was full of pain. She spoke in a voice horse from disuse. “I think the question is, who are you?” She folded her twiggy arms and glared at Goldie. “This is my house.”

  “This is a museum house from the 1800s . . . ” Goldie slowly trailed off, noticing for the first time that the girl’s sharp features were quite transparent, and also a little blurry around the edges. “Oh, my.” She began to hyperventilate. “You can hear me because you are a ghost!” She screeched and high tailed it back into the creaky house, where Clay was sound asleep. “Get up!” Goldie prodded Clay, but as her fingers had no substance, her efforts were futile. “Clay!” she shrieked right next to his ear in a frequency that could make glass crack and animals weep.

  He started. “Geez, Goldie! Would you be quiet!” he shouted and swiped blindly at her, lethargic with sleep.

  “There is a ghost outside!” she sobbed, trying to cling to his arm.

  Clay rubbed his eyes. “Goldie. You are a ghost!” he said and collapsed back on the bed. “Just go away,” he mumbled, and closed his eyes.

  “Oh.” Goldie thought about it. “Okay.” She descended the stairs, a vision of serenity, and returned to the ghost who was standing there, staring out into the fields as if she was waiting for somebody.

  “How about we start over. What’s your name?”

  “Sally. Not that it’s your business.” Sally continued to walk the earth. “John?” she called. “John, I’m here.”

  Goldie, oblivious, continued. “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be in heaven or hell or something?”

  Sally shrugged. “I’m waiting for John,” she said.

  Goldie eyed the ghost. “Is John dead, too?”

  “He went off fighting in the war. But he loves me. He said he would come back for me so I’m waiting.” Sally looked at Goldie. “You know what its like to lose your love? To have your heart torn out and ripped into pieces?” Her thin shoulders shook. “John is everything to me. Without him, I am nothing. So I wait for him to come and make me whole.”

  As Sally dissipated into mist, Goldie thought how sad it was that the ghost was stuck in her feelings and couldn’t move beyond them. Their bodies were gone ages ago, yet their feelings seemed to last forever. Would hers, too? And if she didn’t tie things up with her life on earth or if she failed the tribunal, would she become just like that? A spirit stuck like a broken record, repeating one note for all eternity?

  She shuddered, thinking about the answer.

  “Clay, I came back,” Leigh said as Clay awoke. “I’m ready to hear you out.”

  He jumped out of bed and ran out to meet her, still a little groggy. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and gave her a big hug.

  Leigh hugged him tight. “Why does everything with us always have to be so damn insane?” she asked as a tear slid down her check.

  Clay whispered into her ear. “Because we care.”

  “I do, Clay. I do care about you.”

  Clay wiped away her tears. “I’m so sorry for making you feel like second best. Because you aren’t. You’re the best. You always were. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  They hiked a bit more in the moonlight until they found the right spot. Clay crouched beside Leigh as he used wooden twigs to try to create a fire. It was rough going, considering a light drizzle of rain was tapping down, but he knew that once he got it going, they’d be fine.

  They got a spark and Leigh kneeled close to the small fire and slowly blew on it, giving the fire more oxygen.

  “Hey,” he said as he watched the fire grow. “It’s a good fire you got there.”

  “Just putting to use all those years as a Girl Scout,” she said.

  “I’m just happy you brought hot dogs and marshmallows. Don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  Leigh smiled. “You’d have starved.”

  “Right.” Clay laughed. He noticed Leigh was shivering. “Here, take my jacket,” he offered, gently placing it on Leigh’s shoulders. He smelled her hair as he put on the jacket and moved back, suddenly, as if he was burned.

  “What?” Leigh said and turned to face him.

  “Nothing . . . I just . . . ”

  Leigh reached over and took Clay’s hand. “Ever since that kiss at Carolyn’s party, everything has been weird betwe
en us.”

  Clay nodded. “I told you I was sorry, I—”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s not that, Clay. I’m okay with you not liking me that way—I get it. I can live with it.”

  Clay shook his head. “It’s not that at all, Leigh.”

  Leigh continued. “But you really hurt me. To lose your friendship, Clay . . . that just kills me. You’ve been the best friend I have ever had, since we were kids—through my parents’ divorce, my mom’s accident—God, you were there for me all through high school and I know that couldn’t have been easy . . . ”

  “Leigh,” he said, “the last thing I’d ever want to do is cause you pain.”

  Leigh held back her tears. “So why? Why have you been acting so strange lately?”

  Clay sat back and gazed at the flames. “It’s not you, Leigh, it’s me.”

  Leigh nodded. “So what’s up? You know you can tell me anything, and I can take it.”

  “Okay.” Clay stared at her. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  Leigh stuck out her chin. “What.”

  Clay swallowed. “All right. You see . . . there’s this woman . . . ”

  Leigh raised her eyebrows. “Oh,” she said in a sad voice.

  Clay cleared his throat. “Well there’s a woman stuck . . . inside of me . . . ”

  “Really?” Leigh’s eyes widened and she sat back as if sucker-punched. “After all these years—I never would have guessed!” She regained her composure and punched his shoulder. “Hey, Clay, just know—I’m good with that. And I’m here for you no matter what.”

  Clay looked at Leigh. “That’s it? I tell you there’s a woman stuck inside of me and you’re just totally cool with that?”

  “Well, what? I’m open minded, Clayton.”

  “Huh?” Clay stared at the fire. Then it dawned on him what Leigh meant. “No . . . No, I’m not saying that I’m trying to figure out my gender. It’s just that I’ve been possessed by a woman, like a demon or something.”