“I’m thankful for my friends, obviously. And I’m thankful to have a supportive boyfriend …”
That was news to Jess. But if she had been an attentive friend it wouldn’t have been, she was sure. So she hid her shock to mask her shame. She could figure out how to address this with Miranda later.
Only, Destinee didn’t see the same need for subtlety. “You got a boyfriend? Jess didn’t tell me about that. What’s his name?”
Miranda looked down at her empty plate and cleared her throat gently. “Um. It’s Quentin.”
Jessica snapped her mouth shut as quickly as it’d fallen open. It made enough sense, but how had she not known?
Destinee reeled back dramatically, but in her defense, she was already on beer number four. “Quentin? You mean Jess’s fake ex-boyfriend?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that,” Miranda said.
“Jones!?” Rex roared like it was an outrage. “You’re dating Quentin Jones?”
Miranda nodded. “Yeah. He’s at UT and we—”
“Did you know about this?” Rex asked Jessica. It sounded like an indictment, like Jessica had perjured herself by knowing and not immediately calling up Rex to notify him.
She opened her mouth to force out a response that wasn’t a lie but didn’t make her look like the world’s worst friend. But before any sounds could cross the threshold of her lips, Miranda intervened.
“We haven’t really been telling people. It doesn’t matter. I’m also thankful for my new friends in Austin and my old friends who stick around.” She looked at Jessica and it was a moment before it set in that she was the one Miranda meant.
“Your turn, baby,” Destinee said.
“Oh, uh …” She should have spent the time thinking of something good rather than obsessing over everyone else’s. “I’m thankful to Chris for being a good boyfriend. And I’m thankful to, um, Miranda for being a good friend. And I’m thankful to my friends at school.” And then, because she figured no one would believe she had friends at school, she decided to drop in some specifics. “Like Judith, who has helped keep me sane this semester when Chris isn’t around.”
Take that, Miranda! I can make friends, too.
Then immediately:
I’m such a bitch. What’s wrong with me?
She avoided eye contact with everyone else at the table, focusing her eyes on the sweet potatoes instead. “Can we eat now?”
“Good thinking,” Rex said, placing a napkin on his lap. “Don’t want to miss kickoff, so we better get this show on the road.”
The plates began rotating, and Jessica added that to her mental list of things she was grateful for. But she’d hardly gotten a mouthful of turkey and canned cranberry sauce shoveled in her mouth before Cheyenne asked, “So how’d you meet Judith?”
And there was another thing Jessica was grateful for: the time it took to chew through tough turkey skin. She collected herself and had somewhat of an answer by the time she was able to speak again, though she didn’t really understand why Cheyenne cared about Judith.
Because she cares about you, idiot.
“We met at orientation, actually. And then we have university seminar together every week. She’s really cool. She kind of reminds me of Mr. Foster. But a younger girl version.”
She mentally cringed when she realized she’d compared Judith to Mr. Foster in virtually the same words people used to describe her in relation to her half-brother.
“Brian Foster?” Rex asked. “God help her if she’s like that guy.”
“Speaking of Mr. Foster,” Jessica said, “I heard he’s in Austin now, Miranda.”
Miranda sipped down some water. “Oh yeah? How’d you find that out?”
“Mrs. Thomas told me.” But as soon as she’d said it, she knew this was not a topic to bring up if she hoped to calmly digest her meal.
Destinee bristled, as expected. “God damn, baby. You still talk to her?”
“I mean, we email every now and then.”
Cheyenne shared a knowing look with Destinee before saying, “You’d think maybe she’d spend a little more energy on her own daughter, considering.”
“Or that nightmare of a son,” Destinee added.
Jess almost couldn’t believe it. Well, she could believe Destinee would talk shit about Mrs. Thomas, because it’d always been that way. She’d never known, though, that Cheyenne Forte had such strong feelings.
She looked at Miranda for backup, but Miranda was focused in on her plate, more so than was required to simply shovel food into a mouth.
“I mean, it’s not her fault Sandra and Fischer are awful,” Jessica said.
Destinee scoffed. “Whose fault is it then, baby?”
Jessica took that as a challenge. “So if I went and did something dumb in college, that would be your fault?”
Destinee shook her head. “’Course not. Everyone does dumb shit in college from what I understand. But if you’d spent your whole childhood being a little cunt to everyone, that’d for sure be my fault.”
A strip of dark meat fell out of Rex’s open mouth at the word cunt, but it didn’t slow Jessica down. “It’s totally not her fault! She’s given me great advice, and I’m sure she’s given Sandra the same, but Sandra’s just too much of a bitch to listen.”
Destinee didn’t seem deterred. “What advice is she giving you?”
Jessica almost didn’t want to say. But the urgent desire to prove her mother wrong about Mrs. Thomas spurred her on. “She said I’m one of the bravest people she knows and I just need to use that courage to make friends and try new things in college.”
Destinee glanced sideways at Cheyenne, who shrugged minutely. “Yeah, alright,” Destinee said. “I guess that’s solid. At least she recognizes bravery when she sees it.”
“So,” Cheyenne added. “What kinds of new things are you trying?”
It didn’t even cross Jessica’s mind to say, talking to people I don’t know and standing up for myself and ignoring people who shout rude things at me as I pass; all that seemed lame as hell. But outside of those basic things, she hadn’t really followed her former teacher’s advice.
“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, obviously,” Miranda said, breaking the tension.
The adults chuckled, and Jessica let herself chuckle to fit in.
“Truly her father’s daughter,” Destinee said, standing from the table and heading to the fridge.
NOT TRUE. POPULAR MUSIC DOES NOT PLEASETH ME.
More a fan of the oldies?
INDEED. MUSIC STOPPED BEING GOOD IN THE NINETIES.
Well, that wasn’t so long a—
THE FIVE HUNDRED AND NINETIES.
Oh.
YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD FATHER LUCIAN. THE MAN COULD COMPLETE A FOUR-MINUTE GREGORIAN CHANT WITHOUT PAUSING FOR BREATH.
“Who wants a beer?” Destinee asked, opening the fridge.
Each person shot a hand into the air.
“No way I can go into this game sober,” said Rex. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell the Cowboys will pull off a win against the Eagles this season.” He snuck Jess the side-eye and she nodded minutely.
Just one more week?
FINE. BUT ONLY BECAUSE IT’S THE EAGLES.
She nodded at Rex to look below the table, where she gave him a thumbs up. He shut his eyes and mouthed “Thank you.”
She didn’t bother telling him God did it despite Rex’s desires rather than because of them.
“You think you’ll ever go back to football?” Cheyenne asked.
What relaxation had settled in at the mention of beer vanished out at the mention of Jessica’s ignored miracle. Apparently no one had informed Miranda’s mom that the topic was taboo.
“Um. Maybe,” Jessica said, dishing herself another helping of stuffing that she was already too full to eat.
“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you should. I don’t understand why you gave it up, to be honest.”
“Mom,” Miranda said cautiously
.
“What? It was a miracle! Your purpose in life doesn’t come much clearer than that.”
“I guess I was just tired of the attention,” Jessica said. “Wanted to try something new.”
Miranda jumped in again. “That makes sense to—”
“How’s that working for you?” Cheyenne asked. It didn’t seem accusatory; she genuinely seemed curious. “You staying under the radar there?”
“Yeah,” Jessica said, ignoring the mental montage of religious slurs she heard on a daily basis. “For the most part,” she amended.
Cheyenne conceded with a shrug of her shoulder. “Well, as long as you’re happy …”
Well, happy wasn’t the word she’d use.
“I bet the pre-game coverage has already started,” Miranda said, folding her napkin and looking at Rex to take the lead.
He did. “Damn! You’re right!” He turned to his live-in girlfriend for permission and Destinee nodded.
“Yeah, might as well get drunk and watch some football.”
But while it got her away from the conversation, Jessica found that she was no longer in the mood to watch football. That chapter of her life was closed, wasn’t it?
“Hey.” Miranda set a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Want to get some air?”
“Definitely.”
They took their beers and headed out to the back porch, sitting in the same old canvas chairs that had been there for as long as Jessica could remember. They stared out into the neighbor’s backyard, which was just as packed with miscellaneous junk as ever. Nothing changed in Mooretown. But everything seemed to change outside of it.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you about Quentin,” Miranda said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to know, I just figured I’d see you before long and wanted to tell you in person, I guess.”
“It’s fine. Sorry I’ve been such a shit friend.”
Miranda sat up straight. “What? No you haven’t! I’ve been a shit friend! I go whole weeks without texting you.”
“Uh, I go whole weeks without texting you,” Jessica countered.
“Hm.” Miranda relaxed back into her chair. “You’re still my best friend, though.”
Jessica swallowed and relaxed back into her chair again. “Same.”
“Even if we don’t talk as much.” Jessica nodded, and Miranda added, “And even if you make new friends.”
When Jessica didn’t respond, Miranda turned toward her. “I know you don’t have many friends at Texas State, Jess. Chris told me.”
“What?”
Miranda shrugged a shoulder in a sorry-not-sorry way. “I want you to make more friends. It’s important. I won’t be jealous.”
“Don’t you think I want to make more friends, too?” She scoffed and swigged her beer.
Miranda held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying. I’ve made new friends at school and it doesn’t make me like you any less. It just makes me a little happier.” She paused. “Chris says Judith is cool.”
“She is.”
“He also wanted me to tell you that he is in no way attracted to her. But he wanted me to leave out the part about him telling me to mention it.”
Jessica grinned. “Right.”
“How’s he doing?”
Jess shrugged. “He’s good. I almost never get to see him during football season. When he’s not at practice, he’s in a team meeting.”
“I know I shouldn’t say this since I’m dating Quentin now, but some of those dudes he was out with last Thursday night were seriously hot.”
Jessica shook her head. “What dudes?”
“The ones in the photos.”
She shook her head slowly again.
Miranda continued cautiously. “On Facebook …? You don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“You know I try to stay off social media when I can.”
“Ah.” Miranda blinked and inhaled deeply. “It was nothing. Just a bunch of dumb college students out at a bar. A shitty one, obviously, if it was eighteen and up.”
Chris hadn’t mentioned anything about a bar, had he? Surely she would have remembered if he’d mentioned going out to a bar. Why didn’t he invite her? What the hell?
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the messages from the previous Thursday.
You say: Want to get dinner in a few?
Chris says: Got plans. Late breakfast tomorrow?
You say: Class at 9:30.
Chris says: Damn.
You say: Lunch?
Chris says: Class at 12 and 1:30
Chris says: Gotta go. Love you.
She’d assumed his plans had been football related, but why hadn’t he specified? Why didn’t he want her to go out with him? Could Chris be …?
Great. Now she had to decide: did she risk being the fool or did she act the part of suspicious girlfriend?
Finishing off her beer, she realized it was a decision she could make. Fool it was, then. That, at least, was something she knew she was good at.
Push it back! Push it back! Waaaaay back!
The stadium air was electric. The familiar scent of moist grass and greasy food tickled at memories and sensations Jess had no word for except one that was ogre-like in its simplicity: football.
Swarms of gnats created shimmering clouds around each giant light, and the cool fall air set the hair on Jessica’s arms on end.
She wished she hadn’t come. Immediately she knew it was a mistake when her heart’s Pavlovian response left a knot of pre-game excitement in her chest and she thought, Maybe college football wouldn’t be so bad.
“How about we don’t sit in the student section,” Judith suggested. “Something about being surrounded on all sides by drunks calling for necks to be snapped seems counterintuitive to all survival instinct.”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
It wasn’t difficult to find a seat near the fifty-yard line. Outside of the packed, undulating student section, the stands were practically empty. Jessica supposed most people didn’t bother with early December games when the Bobcats were out of playoff position and the starting quarterback was on a two-game suspension for having sex with an unconscious girl.
“What’s Chris’s number?” Judith asked, staring down at the field where the home team was warming up.
“Eight.” Jess pointed. “And you can tell because he’s the one throwing the ball.”
She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile as Judith looked at her, arched a brow then nodded. “Yeah, I deserve that. I swear I understand football …”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
As the teams huddled on the sidelines, Judith said, “I have a confession.”
“Oh no. What?”
But Judith was grinning lopsidedly. “I followed along a little bit with your football career while you were in high school.”
Jessica tried not to let her confusion show. “Huh? Why the hell would you do that?”
Judith shrugged. “I’d heard rumors about you being God’s daughter, and a bunch of the dudes I went to school with made jokes about it—and I did, too, actually—but when it came out that you could kick the everliving piss out of a football, the shit talking pretty much came to a screeching halt, and so I was like, ‘This is amazing.’ Because seeing a girl achieve an athletic feat that no guy could do was, like, it, you know? It was the ultimate way to shut up the critics. Maybe even convert a few people.”
Jessica chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s actually why I can do it, I think.”
“I mean, it’s pretty badass. I don’t even like football, but it was almost a relief to see you make those kicks and watch the jaws of so many dumb jocks drop to the floor. And this part might sound crazy, but once they saw you do that, they gave me and a lot of other girls a little more credit, like maybe, just maybe, any one of us could have gone and done something amazing that they considered impossible. Seeing you do something they couldn’t really rattled them, I could tell. It was l
ike they started wondering what other secret abilities females might be hiding.”
“So it gave ’em a good scare,” Jessica said.
Judith laughed. “Yeah. Seeing it shook them up. It dislodged a piece of plaque from their brain, which I think allowed a little more movement of ideas.”
Jessica was pretty sure that was a good thing. “Huh. Okay.”
The Bobcats were receiving the kickoff and took the field opposite the Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks.
“And then some of the girls started to wonder if they couldn’t do a little more than they already were,” Judith added just before the ball became airborne and the shouts of the crowd made it impossible to continue conversation.
Chris’s first pass was bobbled and dropped by some dummy wide receiver that Jessica learned from the announcers was Brock Houston. The same Brock Houston that Chris had ranted about after each game for the entire season so far.
“They can’t all be Quentin Jones,” she’d reminded him one late-Sunday-morning breakfast after Brock had bobbled the game-winning pass in the end zone with no one around him.
“Man, if coach would just let me start and I had Quentin as my wide receiver … That guy just got me. He just read my mind. I didn’t even have to stick to the play call.”
But Quentin was too busy starting at UT and secretly dating Miranda to transfer to Texas State.
Jess turned to Judith. “Are you dating anyone?”
“Why? Are you asking me out?”
“No, I’m just wondering. I haven’t asked you, and apparently if I don’t ask, people don’t tell me.”
“No, I’m not dating anyone. No point.”
“What do you mean?”
The Bobcats punted the ball on third and nine, and the crowd noise forced the conversation to press pause.
“Break his fucking neck!” shouted a male student in a neon green sleeveless shirt a few rows down, whose bulky arm muscles were apparently all the warmth he needed. Well, those and probably quarts of alcohol.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Judith said, staring at the shouter. She snuck a guilty side glance at Jessica, who mouthed that it was fine. Judith nodded subtly.
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