Love At Every Size

by Jordan, Jesse

  “Hey Billy, I got your message. I thought you wanted to sit down right before before I take off tonight?” I ask, and Billy nods. “Okay then, what’s up?”

  “I was signing off on a few recruiting letters I wanted to mail out today to our West Coast prospects, the kids we have our eyes on for next year,” Billy said, pushing a coffee across the table to me along with two Tylenol, “when Loggy gave me a buzz. Said you were going a bit nuts down there. It’s been a while since he’s had to call me about your workouts, Louden. Anything wrong?”

  I take the coffee, which is not piping hot but warm enough that it’s not like drinking diesel fuel and gulp down the two Tylenol happily. It’s an old habit of Billy’s, he read somewhere that caffeine increases the speed at which aspirin and other pain relievers kick in.

  I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I like it that Billy gives a damn about me. “Just had a bad night last night, that’s all Billy. The volleyball girls were pretty bitchy.”

  “Well, you can’t change the hearts of everyone,” Billy says, leaning back. “You should know that by now. Louden, part of what you’re going to have to learn if the administration hires you to be the head coach after I’m gone is that you can’t please everyone. You’ll feel pressure to try though, and you’re the type of man who’s going to want to try and please everyone, too. You’re going to burn the candle at both ends, I know it. You’re going to want all our kids to be NBA draft picks with Rhodes Scholarships, along with being voted to the Volunteer of the Year awards and helping old ladies across the street. Probably while giving the players every perk you can and costing the university not a damn dime. Oh, and while I don’t normally mention it, you’re going to do it all while trying to be father of the year, too.”

  I shrug, trying not to laugh. Billy’s right. “You know how I am, Billy.”

  Billy nods. “But you gotta let it go, Louden. I thought you were doing well with it after last season. Remember that little losing streak we went on after Javon quit school back when you were a new coach? It should have had you looking like Mr. Universe. You handled that well, but the volleyball team got to you? What’s up?”

  I think, then sigh, knowing I can’t fool Billy for long. “I just... Billy, last night after the meeting I sort of got it on with Denise, the BoPo counselor.”

  “Got it on?” Billy asks, chuckling. “You know Louden, you’re nearly thirty now, I thought you were past kiddie phrasing stage. But anyway, what’s wrong with that? Is she pretty?”

  I grin despite myself, nodding. “Not the classical way, she’s not built like Lana, but yeah Billy, she’s pretty. More than that, she’s smart, and I do like her, most of the time.”

  “Most of the time,” Billy says, lifting an eyebrow. “As in?”

  “Last night, after we... well, finished up, she started trying to thank me. But she started throwing big Scrabble sized words at me, and I...”

  “You reacted the way you normally do when people do that,” Billy says knowingly. “I notice you don’t say anything about breaking quite a few rules if you guys were inside the athletics center when you did. And I’m not going to ask about that.”

  I nod gratefully, Billy’s right. While I had sex a few times inside the arena back when I was a player, both on the court and off, that doesn’t mean I should be doing it now. “Thanks. Anyway, I feel like shit about it, Billy. I mean, I can tell that this woman, she’s got some insecurity issues, probably about her body. And I fucking acted like a goddamn caveman. Half the time I’m around her I’m fucking up, and each time I feel bad about it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  Billy sips his coffee, letting me stew for a few seconds before replying. “You’re still learning, Louden. And nobody’s perfect. Just focus on getting past it, and on not making the same mistake next time.”

  “I remember you telling me the same thing when I was your swing forward,” I reply, and Billy lifts an eyebrow. “Guess things haven’t changed.”

  “Main difference between a good forward and a good head coach is that a head coach has a different view of the game, a different set of priorities in that you have to think longer term. Well, that and less comfortable clothes. You’ll get used to it,” he jokes, but when I don’t laugh in reply, he sits back, serious. “Louden, you are still interested in being a head coach, right?”

  I nod, but for the first time I feel unsure about my answer. “Billy, how am I supposed to be as good as you if I can’t even tell a woman that I... fuck it, that I want to take out on a date that I’m just bugged by her vocabulary? How am I supposed to deal with boosters who are lawyers and shit like that?”

  Billy chuckles. “Three pieces of advice there, son. First, don’t use words like ‘shit’ with boosters, at least not in speeches or at dinners. The press has a field day every time you do. Second, don’t do any donation talks with boosters when you’re both naked. Really screws up your head.”

  I laugh, Billy’s put me more at ease, and I finish my coffee. “And the third piece of advice?”

  “Give this girl Denise a call. I haven’t had the chance to talk with her, but I’ve seen her website. You’re right, she is a pretty girl. She’s got a sort of old school look, older than my generation but not that much. Talk with her, and ask her out on that date. If she says no, she says no.”

  His advice is simple, and I can’t deny it. “Okay. When I get back.”

  “Good,” Billy says, standing up. “Now, let me finish up those recruiting letters I’ve got before we start our calls, and then we can do a last minute jam session before you head out to the airport.”

  * * *

  Miami’s warm, not as warm as a Virginia summer, but still, I remember why I came down here myself for Spring Break once or twice. I’m not in Miami itself but about a half hour inland, where the swamps are starting to push in on all sides and make the ground soupy during today’s heavy rains.

  Thankfully, I’m sitting in a dingy gym instead of outside though, watching the kid I came to meet, Freddy Jackson. He’s tall, easily six foot eight with plenty of growth still to go. He might reach seven feet if we’re lucky.

  He’s not skinny either, he’s filled out some after playing football in the fall, carrying the two hundred and sixty pounds with ease as he plays low post. This is just a little pickup game arranged by his high school coach, but Freddy’s still impressive, his mechanics are sound down low.

  He tries some stupid stuff as the game wears on, he doesn’t have a soft touch outside of fifteen feet, but inside of that he’s got a great balance of graceful moves and physicality.

  “Okay, that’s enough guys!” the coach calls, and the group breaks up, the intensity of the pickup game immediately forgotten past a few taunts and normal jocking that I expected. While they wipe down and grab a little water the coach turns to me. “So what do you think, Coach Graham?”

  “Same thing I thought when I saw his game tape, Coach. Freddy’s got a lot of potential to play for us. You know we’re thin in our big men, and I could see Freddy getting play at power forward right away. He gets another good growth spurt, and he could be holding down the center job by the time he becomes a sophomore. It’s up to him, though.”

  The coach nods, leaning in. “Listen, Coach. Mount Reston’s not the only school giving Freddy looks, as you know. Florida, NC State, a few teams in the Midwest, they’ve all reached out. But I’m hoping he signs with Mount Reston.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask, knowing that this could be the whole key to the recruiting trip. “Don’t say it’s because you like Virginia.”

  The coach laughs, shaking his head. “No, it’s that I want Freddy to stay in school. Freddy’s good, real good. The best I’ve ever had come through this school, honestly. But Louden... that's okay, calling you Louden?”

  I nod, and the coach continues. “Louden, if Freddy goes to one of those schools, he’s either going to sit the bench, which I don’t want, or he’s going to get pressured to be one of those kids who t
ries to jump to the pros right away. Like you said though, Freddy needs a good growth spurt to be anything more than a Euro league player, and he needs a couple years to polish up that outside game too. Around here, he can get by with that fifteen foot range and sixty percent free throws, but he ain’t Shaq.”

  “He grows right, he could be,” I note, and the coach nods.

  “He could. But if he isn’t, I want him in a school where he can become something more than just another ex-jock who comes back here after his playing days, looking at the rest of their life and knowing that their best days are behind them. You promise me that you’ll make him into a complete man, and you’ll have my support on him signing with Mount Reston.”

  A complete man.

  Hell, I’m not even sure I’m a complete man, and looking at Freddy Jackson, who’s just turned eighteen and is full of promise, his smile flashing in the gym lights as he trades jokes with his friends, I sit in awe at the responsibility that the coach is asking me, and what Billy Two Eagles might want to leave in my hands.

  And I know what I need to do to take another step towards becoming a complete man. I nod, looking at the coach. “I can’t promise you I’ll make him a complete man, Coach. But I will promise you this. If Freddy comes to Mount Reston, I’ll bust my ass to make sure that he’s given every opportunity to make himself into a complete man.”

  Coach nods, impressed, and offers his hand. “Deal. Then let’s go talk to Freddy, and tonight the local boosters have arranged a team dinner that you’re going to be the guest of honor for. Don’t worry, no speeches, just a chance to talk with Freddy and his folks.”

  I smile, looking forward to it. “Okay. Can you give me a minute before we do though, Coach? I gotta visit the boys room and send an e-mail, then we can do all that.”

  “Go ahead,” Coach says, getting up and leaving me alone. I climb out of the stands and go to the locker room, all industrial tile and cinderblock, the lockers dinged and the whole thing smelling of the ghosts of Clorox bleach and a couple decades of football and basketball teams, the hundreds if not thousand or more players who sweated and toiled for reasons they maybe didn’t even understand beyond just they liked playing the game, not understanding the lessons their coaches were trying to teach them beyond the details of the pick and roll or how to tackle properly.

  I find a urinal and quickly drain myself, I did down a full bottle of Gatorade earlier today, and after I zip up I take out my cell phone, glad that I programmed Denise’s phone number into it. I’m terrible at remembering phone numbers.

  While her line rings, I hope that she’s not mad or hurt, but I have to expect that she’s both. After all, I was an asshole.

  “Hello, Louden?” she says, and I am glad to hear at least a little bit of hopefulness in her voice, even if she does sound a bit worried too.

  “Hey Denise, how’s it going?” I ask, sounding to myself like the world’s biggest idiot. Yeah, I’m just calling you in the middle of a recruiting trip to ask how you’re doing. Douchebag.

  “Uh... fine, I guess. Is everything okay with you?” she asks hesitantly. “Is there a problem with the next meeting?”

  Meeting? Great one, you asshole, you got her worried already. “No, no,” I quickly reply, running my free hand through my hair then remembering I haven’t washed it yet. I’m all sorts of fucked up right now, aren’t I?

  “I was calling to... ah, to hell with it, I seem to do this half the time we meet but... I wanted to say I’m sorry. About the other night, the way I talked after we... you know. I’d like a chance to talk with you about it, and to maybe explain why I acted the way I did.”

  There’s a long, drawn out silence on the other end, but I can hear Denise breathing at least, she hasn’t hung up on me. “Okay, I’m listening. Go.”

  I gulp, not expecting to be put on the spot so much, and tug at my shirt collar a little. “Actually, I was kind of hoping we could do it face to face. After I get back from this trip. I’ll be back in town in four days, can we meet then?”

  Denise thinks, and I can hear in her voice, she wants to give me another chance, but I did hurt her, maybe more than I realized. “One more chance, Louden. You’re right, you’ve had to do a lot of apologizing. Honestly I don’t know why I put up with it, I should be busting your ass with the administration. But... well, anyway, I don’t know if your sweaty alpha male act works with most women, but I kind of expect more out of a man that I’ve slept with.”

  “Not quite sleeping with,” I half tease, and I’m glad to hear Denise chuckle a little. “Okay, no more caveman stuff. I’ll be back in town on Wednesday, can we get together at my office then?”

  “How about my office, say at seven?” Denise says, amused but still wary. “I don’t have any massage tables around here though.”

  I smile, my cock twitching in my pants as I think about what it felt like being with her. “Don’t worry,” I say, lowering my voice a little. “I remember your desk was just about the right height too. Seven o’clock Wednesday. And thanks, Denise. I mean it, I’m not just trying to perv on you.”

  “You better not be. See you Wednesday.”

  Chapter 10

  Denise- Revelations

  I’m watching the clock on my laptop harder than I should be. I told Louden seven o’clock, and I made sure to wrap up my last appointment by six forty, which was a miracle because my five thirty patient, Leticia Partridge, is one of those people who usually has a lot to say, and nobody in her life to say it to other than me it seems. It’s a shame too, because a lot of what she says is interesting and funny, she’s just got such a horrible self image that she’s unwilling to open up to anyone but me.

  Six fifty eight comes and goes, and I’m telling myself for the third time that I need to stop worrying and stressing out over this, it’s just a meeting with a guy who gave me the most unbelievable sex of my life and...

  There’s a knock at the door, and I stand up, opening my door to see Louden like I’ve never seen him before. Instead of the jock, or even the relaxed jock that I expected considering I’ve never seen him in anything dressier, he’s wearing a slim fitting three button suit that looks like it’s been custom tailored for him, his dark hair styled nicely, and even his tie compliments the intense green of his eyes.

  He looks for all the world like a businessman on his way up in the world, or more likely an actor who plays a businessman on TV, because real businessmen don’t look this damn good.

  “Hi,” Louden says, breaking my paralysis. “Am I late?”

  Just then, the clock that I keep in my reception area chimes the hour, and I turn, smiling a little. “No, I guess not. Come in, how was your trip?”

  “A good one,” he says, and I can see as he moves the athlete that he is. He doesn’t step across the floor as much as glide, his feet always on balance, not with the feminine grace of a dancer but the overwhelming masculine presence of something like a tiger. “I think I might have sewn up one of our top recruits, a kid from Miami that’ll help out a lot next season. Of course, we won’t know until Signing Day, but at least I don’t have to worry about his grades, he’s a solid 3.0 student.”

  “That’s good,” I reply, offering him a seat in my office. “So... what did you want to talk with me about? I mean, besides apologizing.”

  Louden’s eyes flash as he looks up, he’s probably not a man who says he’s sorry all that often and doesn’t like to be forced into one. Hell, he’s probably apologized to me more than anyone else in his life recently. He tenses for another second before he nods, but doesn’t sit.

  “This might take a while, and I’m going to ramble some, but bear with me, okay? First off, I wanted to say that after the last meeting, I kissed you and we had sex because... well, because I wanted to have sex with you. No other reason.”

  “No other reason?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “Louden, I could feel that you wanted to have sex with me, you know. Kinda hard to fake what you’ve got in your pants. Possible, but not inconce
ivable.”

  Louden blushes and looks down, then looks up, his eyes angry and hurt. “Are you making fun of me, Denise? Because if you are, I took the time to put on this suit for no reason.”

  I blink, stunned by the vehemence in his voice. “No, not at all Louden. Is that what you think I was doing?”

  Louden takes a deep breath and shrugs. “A lot of people have, especially after they find out about me. I don’t make a big deal about it, but some people have figured it out, tried to act like it makes me stupid or something.”

  “Wait, I’m confused,” I say, sitting back. “What would people use to make you feel stupid? That you’ve got a big dick and are one damn good lover?”

  Louden blinks, and looks down at his pants, I think he’s slightly surprised before he shakes his head. “No,” he says in a softer voice than I’ve heard him use before. “Denise, I... I’m dyslexic. I couldn’t read until I was in seventh grade, and even now, I need a lot of help reading big words. I used to get teased, hell, I used to get into fights in elementary school with the big word kids, the kids who’d make fun of me because I had trouble reading. I’d have never even made it into college except that when I was in seventh grade, my English teacher had a background in working with dyslexic students, and he saw the signs of what was fucking me up. Still, I didn’t have the money for a lot of extra assistance, I just had the exercises that my teacher showed me, and some stuff I could get off the Internet. When I was in college, I had to get tutors the whole time, even though I worked so hard it made me get headaches. Actually, the mother of my daughter is one of my old tutors. My Master’s thesis didn’t have a single word over three syllables in it except for technical words that I copied out of the textbooks to make sure I didn’t fuck up.”