by R. S. Lively
"Absolutely. I look forward to hearing from you."
********
That evening I'm still curled up in the chair when Joe brings in a cup of the peppermint hot chocolate that Bump’s been craving since before Christmas. I'm hoping he'll get over it soon. It doesn't feel right drinking peppermint hot chocolate after New Year's.
"Have you decided yet?" he asks, perching on the edge of the coffee table in front of me.
I take a sip of the sweet drink, then shake my head.
"Not yet. I don’t really know what to do. I'm torn between my life here at home and back there. I don't want to leave again, but I also don't want to give up on one of my only dreams."
"Julie, look at me."
I look over and see him staring back at me seriously. His chocolate brown eyes remind me of our father, and I have a flashback of Dad giving me advice when I was a little girl.
"What?"
"I know you missed home when you were gone, and I know you worry about me being alone. I appreciate that, and of course, I missed you too. But I'm a big boy, and I can take care of myself. Right now, you don't need to worry about anyone but yourself and that baby. You need to do what's right for the two of you, and I think you know that means going back and taking on an amazing job that you deserve.”
I let out a breath and nod. He's right. I reach for my phone and call Mr. Slidell.
A thought comes to mind as the phone rings.
I'm going to have to try to peel Rubber Duckie off the wall again. Poor little guy.
One week later…
As much as I complained about this place, it actually feels good to be back at my old apartment building. A wave of nostalgia hits me as I step through the glass doors toward Mrs. Livingston's apartment. I haven't called the landlord to ask if I can have my apartment back yet. He never replied a few months ago when I left a voicemail to let him know I was breaking my lease, and I figure it would be better to hype myself up with a visit to my favorite neighbor before I talk to him.
I knock on the door and hear her footsteps slowly shuffle in my direction.
"Who is it?" she calls.
"It's Julie, Mrs. Livingston."
The door flies open, and I see her eyes widen as if she can’t believe I’m actually here.
"Julie!"
"Hi," I say with a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't call."
"You never have to call. You live right next door."
Oh, no. She’s lost it. The end of summer sucked the reality right out of her.
"No, I don't," I say. "Remember? I moved in September."
"You didn't move. You went on a hiatus. I talked to Shane about it. I'm sorry I spilled the beans about you not having a job. I hope I didn't cause you any trouble."
Not at all. Just public humiliation and another exodus from my hometown. No big deal. That’s not her fault, though.
"It's fine. What do you mean I was on a hiatus?"
She takes a step back and gazes at my belly.
"Look at you!" she exclaims. "Moving right along, aren't we?"
"Yeah, I’m in the beginning of my third trimester now. But my old apartment…"
"Oh! Yes." She steps out of the apartment and makes her way over to my old door. "I've been keeping an eye on it for you.”
She looks at me expectantly.
"Don't you have a key?"
"I left it when I moved."
"That's fine. Shane gave me one."
She pulls a long piece of red yarn out of her pocket. She brings the key tied to the end up to the lock on the door, and we step inside. I immediately notice the walls have been repainted, and the water stain on the ceiling – the one I was always worried would fall down on me complete with a bathtub and my upstairs neighbor – has been repaired and repainted.
"Did the landlord actually start doing stuff around the building?" I ask.
"No. Shane did this. He thought you'd like it."
"Shane's been paying for my apartment all this time?"
Mrs. Livingston nods.
"I thought you knew. That's why I didn't mention it any of the times we spoke."
"No," I say. "I had no idea."
Looking around the new and improved apartment, I want to be angry with Shane for going behind my back, again, but I’m grateful. I didn't want to book a hotel for the night, but until now, my only other option was crawling into the back of the small moving truck I rented.
"It looks lovely," I tell her. "Thank you for taking care of it."
"You're welcome." She looks at me again and gives a misty smile. "It's so good to see you. I'm so glad you're home."
"It's good to see you, too."
"Have you called Shane yet?" she asks.
She looks bright and hopeful, but all I can manage is a sad smile.
"No," I say. "Not yet. I don't know if I will. I'm sure he'll find out I'm home soon enough."
"Things between the two of you haven’t gotten any better?"
I shake my head.
"Do you need some tea and a talk?"
I nod again, and she wraps her arm around my shoulders to guide me out of my once-and-current apartment toward hers.
I wonder what's on TV this afternoon.
Chapter Eighteen
Shane
Two days later…
A Roy Rogers is really not as satisfying as it used to be. I'm not sure it was ever actually that satisfying, but at least it didn’t remind me of Julie before. That's another thing about a Roy Rogers – it’s not nearly as good at drowning out memories and questions as beer or liquor would be. But I made a commitment not to drink out in public until the season ends. It wasn't part of our arrangement, and Julie has no idea I'm doing it. I know, and it's a promise I made to prove I could maintain what she was able to salvage for me. I know I could probably drink a pint or two when I'm out with my friends, but there's always the chance that could be seen by the public or press as evidence that I’m sliding backward.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about Julie since she stormed away from me at the Christmas party. I thought that night was going to go so differently. She was supposed to be thrilled, and finally see just how valuable she is to me. Instead, the whole thing blew up in my face. The only solace I have is knowing she's back here now, rather than in Virginia. Gloria called me after Julie first moved back and reassured me that Julie was happy with the changes to her apartment and had agreed to stay there. At least one part of my plan worked out. I'm sure she’ll contact me in the next day or two to tell me she doesn't want me to pay for the apartment, but at least that'll be an opportunity to talk. I really thought I was doing what she would have wanted, but it was the complete opposite, and I don't know how to come back from it. I'm not used to feeling this disconnected, or out of control. I haven't felt this way since I was a child, and I never thought I would feel like this again. The love I feel for Julie and our baby, however, makes it worth the discomfort. I just need to figure out what she wants me to do. She's unlike any woman I've ever met, and I can't deny that I'm hopelessly in love with her. My feelings have grown even stronger since I last spoke those words to her, and I know I never want to not feel this way.
I take one last sip of the drink before tossing a few bills for the bartender and turning around to leave. I haven't taken more than two steps when I run into Vanessa. Shit. This is the last thing I need right now. I'm tired of Vanessa being a part of my life, even if it's just on the periphery. I hoped that Kilmer being traded would solve that, but apparently not.
"Shane," she says. "What a nice surprise. So good to see you."
"Hi," I mutter under my breath as I try to make my way around her and leave.
"Aren't you going to talk to me?" she asks as if she genuinely thinks I'm here to see her.
"I'm on my way home," I say.
"I'll come with you," she says.
I stop and turn to her, holding my hands in front of me to stop her from getting any closer.
"No, you won't. I d
idn't know you were going to be here tonight. I'm not in the mood to play catch up with you. At this point, I have nothing left to say to you."
"Can I just have a minute?" she asks. "Just a minute, then you can go."
"Fine," I say, willing to relent if it means she won't cause a scene.
We walk toward the back of the bar and slide into one of the empty VIP booths. It's been a long time since I sat back here, and as I look out over the rest of the people at the bar, I try to remember what it felt like to be satisfied with a life that revolved around going out with friends and impressing people.
"I wanted to let you know how sorry I am," Vanessa says. "I can't believe what happened. I don't know what got into me."
"I do," I say.
I don't mean it as harshly as it comes out, but her expression immediately becomes embarrassed. A second passes, and her face transforms into a flirty expression. I know it well. It's one of her favorite manipulation techniques.
"Don't you remember how much fun we used to have here?" she asks. "Wouldn't it be nice to be able to have fun like that again?"
"Why don't you bring Kilmer here?" I ask.
"Because I want to be here with you," she says.
"Look, Vanessa, I really don't have time for this."
I start to stand up, and she grabs my wrist.
"He is going to break up with me," she says. "Our relationship is falling apart, and I need some comfort right now."
"I'm not the one you should look to for that anymore."
"But it's because of you that it happened."
"Excuse me?”
"He completely freaked out when he found out I blew our cover about that little misunderstanding."
"Little misunderstanding?" I ask. "Are you seriously calling the time you told the media I physically fucking abused you a little misunderstanding?"
"It doesn't matter," she says. "It's all over now. I rescinded what I said. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
“You didn't do that out of the goodness of your heart," I point out. "The only reason you took back what you said about me is because Julie recorded your admission. You didn't want that leaked to the media."
"It doesn't matter why I did it," she says. "I did, and I look horrible because of it. You know how people treat me now?"
I look at her incredulously.
"Do I know how they treat you? You didn't almost lose your entire career over it."
"Bobby almost did," she says.
"No, he didn't,” I growl. “He got traded. And he probably should have thought about the possibility of that before the two of you pulled that stunt. He deserves what he got."
The manipulative smile returns, and she reaches over to stroke my arm.
"You're right," she says. "He does. And he doesn't deserve me anymore."
"Vanessa, you need to get something through your head. I'm not interested in rekindling shit with you. I was over it a long time ago."
"But could I get you under me?" she purrs.
Ugh. I can’t believe I ever found her attractive.
I pull my arm away from her.
"Listen to me carefully," I snap. "It's done. It's over. You need to move on."
"You’re hung up on that Julie woman, aren’t you?" she sneers.
"Yes," I say. "As a matter of fact, I am. I'm in love with her, Vanessa. She's going to have my baby."
She laughs and tosses her head back.
"Don't be so silly, Shane. You're not in love with her. You love me. You know you do. You can't possibly go from loving me to someone like her. Do I have to remind you?"
"I never loved you, Vanessa. You only wanted to think I did. Just like I wanted to think you loved me. That couldn't be further from the truth."
"Just because she got pregnant? It doesn't take a lot of skill, you know." She slides toward me on the seat. "I could do it so easily. That's no reason that we can’t be together."
"I love her, Vanessa. She's what I want. I want to start a family with her."
I pull out of her grip and walk away. Nothing she can say will distract me from my future with Julie. As soon as playoffs are over, I'm going to do whatever it takes to prove to her that we should be together.
Five days later…
I drop back into the pocket and scan the field. Ricky is on the L route, busting down the left sideline to beat his defender, but I doubt he can shake them. Amal will cross him at some point, but the defensive line is driving us back hard. The other team has been pushing us back all night because of what this game is. What this game means. Especially Kilmer.
When I found out Coach traded Kilmer to our biggest divisional rival for a couple of draft picks, the fact that the team had faith in me again emboldened me, and I played better than I had in a while, despite feeling lost most of the time. Thinking about Julie often makes my body feel like it’s almost on autopilot. It takes all of my focus to concentrate on the game and push Julie out of my mind, which is exactly what I'm doing tonight as we face down that rival team for a place in the Championship.
Kilmer has said on multiple media outlets that he couldn't wait to get his hands on me. I believe it. He's been exceptional tonight. At the top of his game, really. I know much of his effort is to make good on his word and prove, once and for all, that he is the better player. He has yet to get to me, though. He hasn't even been able to touch me. My linemen are hyperaware of his presence and have kept him far away on the few occasions he's tried to reach me. I can feel pressure now, but I don't see it coming from the outside, so I know Bobby is out in the backfield somewhere. Waiting.
Daron has gone short but is smothered, and my eyes scan one last time before I decide to spike it. Then I see him. Baker is deep and open. I set my feet and fire without thought and the ball sails forty yards. Kevin reaches up, and I see it glide directly into his hands and he is gone, straight into the end zone, giving us a six-point lead. I celebrate and point to Kevin who is dancing in the end zone. He is laughing and pointing back when I see Bobby Kilmer standing in my path. He points in my direction ominously and walks away.
4th Quarter
When I take the field for what could be the last time tonight, we are still up by six points. I know one more drive downfield could end the game. I take the field and huddle my guys together, giving them the heads up. We are going to drive the ball downfield, but before we do that, we are going to try a passing play to see if we can get a big jump on them. Ricky knows to make himself open; otherwise, I will try to get it to the line of scrimmage and slide down.
As we line up, I see Bobby Kilmer on the right side, staring me down. He might be a great player, but he has a terrible poker face. I smirk and hike the ball, dropping back into position. I look for Ricky, but he has tripped coming off the line and now there is no one to go to. I know my play and I tuck the ball and head for the middle of my line, looking for an opening I can slide through. I see one and head to it, darting off to the right side.
I slide toward the line, thinking about my next move, when I see Bobby Kilmer directly in front of me, his head ducked down, heading straight at me. We are going to make contact head-on and he is bearing down on me with his entire weight. I try to brace myself for the impact, but everything goes dark.
Julie
The next day…
I can't breathe. My lungs feel like they are withering to dust as my heart pounds so hard it threatens to burst out of my chest. I am curled up on Mrs. Livingston's couch, trying to relax, but I’m gripping the cushions so tightly my knuckles ache. The two of us were preparing for another evening marathon, but nothing on the TV right now is fun or entertaining. On the screen is a long table where Coach Frank Dunsworth sits, flanked by Mr. Tinker, Mrs. Evans, and Mr. Chance, along with a couple other men in suits. I don't care about them. I'm worried about the woman sitting at the very end of the table. The one in a white physician’s coat. Mr. Tinker has a microphone in front of him, and he clears his throat awkwardly.
"At this time, Jan
ine, we have no further word on his condition. Obviously, we will let the press know when we have any further confirmation, but at this time all we know is it is a spinal cord injury, and that he has been put into a medical coma."
"Has there been any discussion about his future? Frank?"
"I…. I have no comment at this time. I don't know anything. I wish like hell I did, but I really don't."
The woman in the white coat now speaks.
"In my professional opinion, Mr. Lawson is lucky to be alive. The direction he made contact and the compression of his neck was so destructive, he could have lost the ability to walk. The medical coma was necessary to have any chance of surgery to repair the damage in his neck. Thankfully, the damage was direct, and Mr. Lawson was in exceptional physical condition. His musculature around his spine kept him from being possibly fatally injured."
"Mr. Tinker, do you have anything to say about the League's punishment of Bobby Kilmer? Do you think it was sufficient?"
"You know, I have known Bobby Kilmer quite well for some time. After my family bought the team, we were well-acquainted with Mr. Kilmer and Mr. Lawson, and we watched as the rivalry between the two men developed. It’s why we traded Bobby in the first place, and to see him do something so heinous… I don't know, really. I don't know if a lifetime ban is enough. I don't know if I personally feel like anything less than prison is enough, and I know my lawyers are going to go crazy for me saying that, but it's true. Bobby willfully and knowingly assaulted Shane Lawson. And now, well, now we have to focus on the championship game without our quarterback."
"Captain," Coach says, "he's our captain."
"Our captain. I don't know if I feel like the League's punishment of Bobby is enough, but I know that when we play next Sunday, our boys will be playing not just for the championship, not for each other, but for their captain. Shane, get better."
Mr. Tinker raises his hand up as reporters begin to shout questions, but he, and everyone else at the table, stands to leave.