Just Rules

by Anna Casanovas

  “What?” she challenged. Out of all of the people in the world that she didn’t want to see her cry, Kev MacMurray was first on the list. “Perhaps you thought I was so frigid I wasn’t capable of crying?”

  She had never forgotten that conversation she overheard, or forgotten that Mac had called her frigid.

  Mac kept staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time in his life, maybe that’s exactly what was happening. Susan had her hair down, it was slightly wet, and she had butter on her face, right on the corner of her mouth. Judging by her puffy eyes, it was obvious she had been crying. She was wearing black yoga pants and worn-out t-shirt with hedgehogs on it. She was a disaster. She didn’t look at all like the Susan he was used to seeing on T.V. (although he would like to deny it sometimes, OK almost always, he watched her program) or the Susan who went to social events with Tim.

  The Susana that was in front of him was the same Susana that had waited for him outside the bathroom at L’Escalier. She was a real woman who had just had her heart broken, and she was holding it all in so that she didn’t break down in front of him. Mac was perplexed when realizing that in that precise moment, and with that simple gesture, Susan had just earned his respect. The impact it had on him really shook him, and he moved his hand slightly away from the door. He didn’t know what to do.

  “So are you happy now?” she said to him. “You’ve seen me cry. Mission accomplished. Steel Pants, the ice queen, the most frigid woman in the world, or however you refer to me lately, isn’t going to marry your best friend anymore. We won’t have to see each other ever again, MacMurray. I hope that someday you feel as humiliated as I do right now. Until then, enjoy and…—she gulped and grasped the door handle tightly— and take care of Tim.”

  Mac finally reacted, lifting his hand. It was trembling, and he slowly moved it towards her face. He could have touched her cheek to wipe away a few tears, but he moved his thumb towards Susana’s lip and wiped off the butter.

  It left her breathless. He noticed the exact moment when she started to breathe again, because he felt the air caress his fingertips. But besides that, Susana remained completely still.

  “You really do love Tim,” he affirmed, surprised as if it had never really occurred to him before. Perhaps he thought that they didn’t make a good couple or that Tim wasn’t in love with her like he was with Amanda, but he had never even dreamed of asking how Susan felt.

  Until that very moment.

  Was she in love with Tim? Had he broken her heart so badly that it couldn’t be mended?

  The horrific pressure that was closing in on his chest intensified, and he moved the hand that had touched the corner of her mouth. He felt like his skin was burning and he closed his fist to try to contain the sensation a little more.

  He had never felt anything like it.

  “Of course I love him. I was going to marry him.” She gulped and saw that Mac remained silent. “But don’t worry; I’m not going to go chasing after him.”

  “I’m sorry, Susana.” He looked in her eyes and took his hand off the door. She was going to marry him. She’s not going to go after him.

  He couldn’t make sense of any of the thoughts that were going through his mind. He still found it difficult to breathe, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.

  “What?”

  The way she uttered her question made him react. What was he sorry about? That Tim had abandoned her?

  No. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sorry, although if Tim was in front of him right now he would probably punch him for having left her.

  I’m going crazy.

  “I’m sorry that Tim hurt you,” he finally said.

  She looked at him perplexed, and he couldn’t stop looking at her. Another tear fell down Susana’s cheek, and when she went to wipe it away, her fingers met with Mac’s. He was just about to do the same.

  They both felt a jolt run through their bodies and they opened their eyes in shock to look at one another.

  They both reacted instantly.

  Susan slammed the door on Mac, and he stayed where he was for several minutes.

  Tim was his best friend and he had never been able to stand Susan. She had always seemed conceited, cold, standoffish, too serious, boring, frigid, and dull. But the girl who had opened the door for him was anything but dull, and what he felt when their fingers touched could have melted the North Pole. Nothing made sense. He felt like calling Tim and telling him off for having hurt her so much, and at the same time he felt like kicking the door down and hugging her. He spread his fingers out and put his hands on the door. He wanted to catch Susan’s tears, wipe them with his thumbs, and whisper in her ear to stop crying.

  God, it was worse than he thought. Mac shook his head and made himself retrace his steps and push the button to the elevator. He got inside, went down to the lobby, and said goodbye to the doorman (who had let him go up because he had recognized him and because Mac gave him his autograph) and went to the gym.

  Chapter 5

  Fifth rule of American football:

  When a player loses possession of the ball it is called a fumble.

  KEV MACMURRAY

  Going to the gym was stupid. Fortunately, I was smart enough to leave before injuring myself. I don’t know how the old horses that dad or grandpa had in the stables felt, but surely the young colts didn’t look at them as terribly as those good-for-nothing guys at the gym trying to win athlete of the year looked at me.

  That’s why I always workout at home or at the stadium.

  Of course it was a stupid thing. I’ve been doing a lot of stupid things lately. And to be honest, much of the stupidity has nothing to do with the fact that this was my last year on the team or as a professional football player. When I started out, I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to play football forever, and I’ve never stopped thinking about when that time would come. In fact, there had been times when I wished it would just come already. But of course I always thought that when I left football I would have a life waiting for me, and the truth is that I don’t have anything, or should I say, anybody.

  I lean my head back and let the water from the shower hit me in the face.

  I’ve been lucky to have been able to play until the age of thirty-five. Very lucky.

  And I’ve been preparing for this moment for years, I repeated to myself, since the beginning really. I’ve never wanted this sport to be my entire life.

  I’ve always wanted more. I turn the shower off and grab a towel. The problem is that until now, nobody has made me think seriously about what more actually consists of.

  I can’t stop thinking about Susana.

  The strangest thing is that I’m starting to realize that I’ve had this problem for about a year, if I can define Susana as a problem. When I see a bad film I think about how the next time I see Susana I’m going to tell her that I liked it just to get a reaction out of her. When I bring a model to a football club dinner, I imagine the sarcastic comment that will come out of the mouth of…my best friend’s fiance.

  I get out of the shower, practically without drying off. I get dressed frantically and pick up my bag abruptly. How is it possible that I just took a shower and my back is already drenched in sweat?

  I can’t stop thinking about that ridiculous butter stain and about how much I had to contain myself so that I didn’t clean it with a kiss, or with my tongue.

  Shit.

  Susana is Tim’s fiance.

  No, actually she isn’t.

  It doesn’t matter because Susana has never made me react like that.

  You’re lying.

  Yep, I’m lying. And apparently, I argue with my conscience.

  I go down stairs and when I get to the street I put on a hat of a different team and a pair of sunglasses. With this simple disguise I usually go unnoticed. I suppose that Patriots fans wouldn’t think that the captain of their team would go around wearing a Denver Broncos hat.

  Susana would prob
ably get it.

  Shit. I can’t stop thinking about her. I start walking faster and I adjust my hat, something I only do when I’m nervous. What’s happening with me in regards to Susana is temporary. It has to be temporary.

  Damn it. The image of Susana smiling at that waiter when he returned her stained jacket at the dinner at L’Escalier; the freckle next to her sixth vertebra; the butter on the corner of her mouth.

  I’m lying. I can’t keep denying it.

  I’ve always been very attracted to Susana. But Tim saw her first, and I still remember how he smiled the day he met her.

  It had been a long time since I had seen him so optimistic and so willing to find a woman that would make him forget about Amanda, so I stepped aside. I remember the strange pressure I felt in my chest when I heard Tim asking Susana if she wanted to have dinner with him that same night, how I strongly closed my fist when she told him yes in the middle of the hallway of the television station.

  What would have happened if I had been the first one out that door? If I had been the one who bumped into Susana? What’s funny is that I was the first one out the door, but I was so awestruck just looking at her that Tim went past me and got in front of me…and bumped into Susana.

  After the brief conversation Tim and Susana had, during which just the sight of her killed me, Tim and I headed towards the set where they were going to interview us, and my friend hardly stopped talking about the good impression she had made on him.

  He told me that he had the feeling that they could be friends, and that he found her to be a very attractive woman.

  I don’t know what the hell Tim saw in my face that day, but one thing is for sure, and that is that he asked me if I liked Susana and if wanted to go out with her instead.

  I let out a laugh and told him not to be an idiot, that for all I cared he could marry her right then and there and have a dozen kids with her.

  Idiot.

  I couldn’t sleep that night, although I really didn’t know why, and I went to spend the following weekend in Aspen with Kassandra, a spectacular Russian model.

  When I got back, Tim couldn’t stop talking about Susan this, Susan that.

  I barely escaped that one, I thought to myself, as Susan seemed like a cold and manipulative woman. Distant. Stuck-up. Snobby. Surely any psychologist listening to me would love to get their hands on me, but I did what I had to do.

  I turned Susana into Susan, into a dull woman incapable of affecting me, into the woman who had restored hope in my best friend.

  However, it didn’t work at all. Sure, it distracted me for a while, but that’s it. Every time I was around Susan I fought with her.

  Her insults make me furious…That’s why after seeing her I have the best fucks of my life with the first woman who crosses my path.

  I can’t believe I’ve been acting like this for a year. It’s completely absurd. Yet it’s the only thing that makes sense.

  The best thing to do is to just forget about everything. Even though Tim and Susana aren’t going to get married anymore, it’s obvious she hates me. She won’t even give me the chance to be her friend, and I’m not sure if I even want to be anyway.

  My phone rings and I see Mike’s name on the screen.

  “Where are you?” Is the first thing that the coach asks me when I pick up.

  “Walking down the street. What about you?”

  “Pacing back and forth in my yard in order to restrain myself from wanting to strangle you, captain. Why the hell did your agent insinuate that you’re willing to not renew your contract for another season? ”

  “I’m thirty-five, Mike.”

  “And I’m fifty-seven.”

  “I don’t want the club to transfer me to a lower division or to sit me on the bench for the whole season. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

  Between you and Tinman, I don’t know who to kill first. Look, Mac, you don’t have many years left, that’s true. I know that you’re too smart for your own good. Surely when you retire you’ll create an empire, but it’s not going to be next year. The Patriots need their captain this next season.

  “Mike…”

  “I need you, Mac.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is.” Mike sighs. “Look, Mac, I know that these past few months have been very difficult for you with the wedding of Tim and…” He fell silent. What the hell does Mike know? It doesn’t matter anymore, right?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Take advantage of your vacation to clear your mind. Relax. Get out of town. Do what you want,” he grumbles. “But call your damn agent and tell him that you’re not going to retire this year.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do it.”

  He hangs up on me before I can say anything else. Mike is the strangest coach I’ve ever met in my life. He’s a very clever man and famous for his bad temper.

  “Why would he say that about Tim’s wedding? Was he trying to say that I was having a hard time with the fact that Susan and Tim were going to get married? Have I been having a hard time with it? Is it really that obvious?

  I arrive to where I parked my car and I unlock it. I throw my gym bag on the passenger seat and get behind the wheel.

  Driving relaxes me, and the ride home allows me to think about what has happened these past few days.

  We lost the Super Bowl.

  Susana was worried about me in L’Escalier.

  Tim and Susan aren’t getting married anymore.

  Susan has a freckle on one of her cheek bones and another on her back. How many more does she have? I step on the pedal in order to get to the freeway and get away from the city. In my SUV I drive past the restaurant where Tim made me have dinner with him and Susana almost a year ago. It was the day that Susana began to hate me and the day we started our personal war against each other.

  And the only relationship I could see myself having with her without going crazy.

  Meatpack Bistro one year earlier.

  I don’t know why Susana insists on wearing those plain and boring suits. Of course Tim seems to like them, a lot, actually, judging by the way he holds her by the waist.

  But she maintains her distance. Why can’t she relax?

  I have to quit looking at her. She just frowned. Surely she’s going to insult me at any moment.

  Thank goodness.

  I can talk to her when she argues with me..

  Tim has been asking me for weeks to have dinner with the two of them because he says he wants to introduce her to me. Apparently, he forgot that I have already met her, that I was with him the day he asked her out for the first time. I would have said no if I had found a good excuse.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to say hello to that couple over there,” Susana says to us. “She is one of the makeup artists at the station.”

  “Of course,” agrees Tim, very formally.

  Susana smiles at him and ignores me.

  Why does she ignore me? I gave up, and I didn’t say anything to Tim or to her about them since they are together. I’ve been willing to go sit in a corner, but I’m not about to put up with people pretending I don’t exist.

  Never.

  “I like this girl, Mac,” says Tim, holding a beer in one hand. “And we get along really well.”

  “I’m glad,” I tell him, because what else can I say?

  “She’s nothing like Amanda,” he keeps going. “I always fought with her.”

  “You were crazy about Amanda,” I remind him. “You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He shrugs his shoulders and takes a drink. “Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life with Susan. Don’t you think I’d be better off with her instead of Amanda?”

  Just when I’m about to tell him yes, to blurt out what he wants to hear, like he’s matured and that he’s ready for a serious relationship, I see Susan’s reflection in a mirror hanging at the back of the rest
aurant.

  She’s coming near us, and she’s looking at me. She is so concentrated on looking at the back of my neck and my back, that she doesn’t even realize I caught her.

  She looks at me when she thinks nobody else is looking? Who does she think she is? If she wants to look at me, she can look me in the eye.

  The back of my neck is sweating and I can feel her eyes looking me up and down, fixating on my shoulders. I tilt my head a little to try to make that feeling go away. It’s strange, and I don’t like how it makes me feel.

  She’s almost to the table. I’m sure that if I raise my voice a bit she would be able to hear me easily.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I answer Tim, and I immediately raise my voice a little. “Susan is fake and stuck-up and seems more frigid than an iceberg.” Done. She has heard me. She stops dead in her tracks and stares at the back of my neck, although this time with hate. I can feel her eyes staring at me. Let’s see if she is capable of ignoring me now. I grip the glass of water I’m holding, and I keep going: “a woman who tries so hard to be what she is not, isn’t right in the head, Tim.”

  Susan’s jaw trembles for a second. It is so quick that it is almost as if I had imagined it, yet at the same time, it lasts long enough for me to feel guilty and to feel like standing up and apologizing to her. However, just then Susan walks back to the table.

  Now she is going to insult me or yell at me. And she’s going to demand that Tim take her side.

  And she’ll have to look at me.

  She does nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  She walks up to Tim, kisses him on the cheek and immediately sits down and grabs the menu.

  “What do you guys recommend?”

  The lights on the freeway flash and I’m forced to concentrate on driving again. I’d better not forget that moment. The way she effortless dismissed me.

  I can’t forget that I don’t affect Susana in the least bit. It’s best if I just do what Tim asked me to do, to make sure that she is OK, and to carry on with life as usual.