Love At Every Size

by Jordan, Jesse

  “So it seems,” I reply, sighing. “It leaves me with more questions though, Lana. You say that you left Louden because you didn’t want to be number three. I’m not sure I could handle that either.”

  “You wouldn’t be,” Lana says, smirking again. “I told you, he’s become a better man, and the funny part is, by becoming a better man, he’s become a better coach too. If things develop between you two... you'll be sharing the number one spot with Cathy. Speaking of which, have you seen her?”

  I shake my head, polishing off the last of my wine. “No. I didn’t want to make things confusing for her. And well... it's the one thing that Louden’s done that frustrates me. He hasn’t really said that...”

  “He’s never said he likes you, or cares for you, or... or loves you?” Lana asks, and I nod, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Yeah, that’s classic Louden. It took me six months of us dating exclusively to get a comment about me being his girlfriend. Denise, you know about Louden’s issue with reading, and with words. He’s a man who can express himself with a basketball like Adele does with music. But he’s not great with words like that. He showed me through his actions. Although he’s making progress, based off of what you’ve told me. Come on, let me introduce you to his daughter.”

  We go into the living room, where Lana pops a DVD into her player, shaking her head. “I’m so going to have to update these things, transfer them to the cloud or something. Nobody makes DVD players any more it seems. And I don’t want to lose them, even if nobody else likes watching them.”

  She starts the video, and I see that it’s a birthday party. “Cathy’s?”

  “Uh-huh. This was four months ago, right in the middle of the hardest stretch for Louden basketball season-wise. He skipped a road trip down to Duke to be at Cathy’s party,” Lana says, and we watch for twenty minutes. It’s weird, this window on the lives of people that I’ve never met, and of course I don’t know any of the kids running around screaming laughter or any of the adults other than Lana and Louden.

  So I watch the action instead. Sure, it’s just a snapshot, but I can see in every interaction with his daughter, Louden’s a committed, loving father who isn’t missing being on the sidelines at all to be at the party. “He looks good.”

  “You’re telling me. Denise, woman to woman, let me tell you again, I fucked up two years ago when I left Louden. He blames himself, but there’s plenty of blame to go around there, me included. The biggest mistake I made, and I made it from the beginning, is that I didn’t accept Louden for who he is. He accepted me, he loved me with all his heart, and I kept trying to change him. That was my sin, and why I never went back even when I knew he was one of the best men in the world. I know if I went back, I’d try to change him again, and he doesn’t deserve that. So if it were my call, I’d say you stick with him, support him. He’ll put the whole world on his shoulders at times, and I think he just needs a woman that’s strong enough to stand by his side and help him hold up the sky when he does. And he needs a woman who’ll hold him in her arms and tell him he’s still amazing when his strength gives out and he gets hurt doing too much.”

  * * *

  I’m not drunk when I get back to my apartment, maybe a bit loose but certainly not drunk. My fingers don’t tremble at all as I take out my cell phone and dial up Louden’s number. I know he’s going to be up, even if it’s well past midnight.

  “Hello?” he asks. “Denise?”

  “Hey,” I say softly. “I just got back from Lana’s house. I just wanted to tell you, I’m going to stand with you, Louden. I know you didn’t two-time me, I know you’re a good man. And I... I care about you. A lot. So whatever you need, I’ll be there for you.”

  There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and when Louden speaks again, his voice sounds slightly stronger, just exhausted. “Thank you. I... thank you.”

  I nod, knowing what he wants to say. It’s enough. “Okay. Now, go get some sleep, and we’ll talk about this later. Good night, Louden.”

  “Good night, Denise.”

  Chapter 19

  Louden- The Archimedes Moment

  “Come on, move your butts!” I yell to the two dozen walk-ons who are going through the hell of three days of tryouts in order to see if we’re going to bring any of them onto the team next academic year. Coach Two Eagles encourages walk-ons, and in fact we do tryouts twice a year, but that means that we’re in the last week of school before graduation, and I’m running practices.

  The players are pushing themselves, I’ve got to give them credit, but in looking around, there just isn’t a lot of talent out there. They’re all a step too slow, just a little too short on their vertical, or missing something essential in their games. Still, the dress team needs a scout team to practice against, and if injuries hit us again we’re going to need players who are familiar with the Mount Reston system to bring up to cover our bench. “Hey, Petersen! Touch the lines, not two inches above them!”

  Petersen’s one of the few potentials who might somehow dress for a game, if he works hard over the two years he’s got left as an undergrad. He’s in great shape, and he’s athletic enough.

  His problem is he’s just a showoff. He’s the sort of guy who lights up the playground courts or the frat house pickup games, where nobody calls traveling unless you’re calling a cab, and fouls are seen as a bitch move.

  Too bad his vertical goes to shit when he’s got to dribble.

  The players push through the last of their double suicides that I always end practice with, some of them retching they’ve pushed themselves so hard. Petersen isn’t, which is just another knock against him. The double suicides are meant to push you to your limits, and even game shape players have trouble with them.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I say, making a few notes on my clipboard. “You’ve got two more days of tryouts, and at the end of the day Friday I’ll announce who we’re inviting to join the team for summer workouts. Go hit the showers. Petersen!”

  Petersen hangs back, and I wait until we’re alone before I tie into him. Another Billy Two Eagles rule I support, praise in public, chew ass in private. “What the hell was that?”

  Petersen, who’s got the alpha male vibe that tells me he’s not used to being shown up, bristles. “What do you mean, Coach?”

  “I mean that you were half assing it through the drills and the conditioning work today,” I say, keeping my voice low but intense. “If you think that’s going to get you a slot on the scout team, you’re sadly mistaken!”

  “I figured I did enough clowning the shit out of everyone during actual playing,” Petersen says, and I sigh. Yeah, he clowned people, but it’s like saying you’re ready for the big leagues because you can smack the hell out of the ball in the batting cages. It just doesn’t hold up.

  Not that I can convince him of this, he’s the sort who’ll come up with a thousand and one excuses. I need to show him, drive the point home beyond his ability to bullshit. “Oh really? Well, tell you what, let’s give you some competition that actually knows what it’s like to play college ball. Grab a ball, top of the key.”

  I take off my whistle and pull off my warmup pants, ready to go. I’d left my shorts on today after my workout, just in case. Peterson though gawks at me. “What?”

  “I said top of the key, you get first outs. Simple game of twenty one, not too hard for you to understand, is it? I mean, you’re a little tired, but I’m turning thirty soon and haven’t played hard in a while, that should make it fair, right? Here’s the deal. You win, and you’ve got a slot. You lose, and you gotta do that much more to earn it.”

  Petersen can’t pass up the challenge, and goes over, grabbing a ball from the rack and heading to the top of the key while I put on some fake stretches and groans, pretending to be older than I am. Petersen’s young, just over twenty, and he actually might be in better shape than me. I know I’m still sleeping like hell, and my body’s tired too.

  But I’ve got fire. I check m
y shoes, double knotting my Nikes just like I used to when I played and peel off my polo, giving Petersen a knowing grin. This is my court, son.

  Time to go to school.

  “When you’re ready,” I say, settling in on the free throw line. Petersen tries to drive, and while he’s got a nifty little spin move, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. As he comes around (a total travel that’d get called in a game, but who cares) I tap the ball away from him, picking it up and quickly going out to the three point line, where I drop a trey on him easily. “Three-nothing. My free throws.”

  The game’s a massacre, and while Petersen gets some decent shots in, in the end the game finishes on a fade away jumper from me, finishing the game at twenty one to eight. It would have been more, but I intentionally bricked my first try at twenty one on a free throw, meaning I had to score an extra ten points to get my win.

  As I gather up the ball, I turn to Petersen, whose face looks still half stunned. “So... think you can give me more effort tomorrow?”

  Petersen nods, blinking. “Yeah, Coach.”

  “Good. Then get the hell out of here, go grab a pizza and get some sleep. See you tomorrow at three thirty.”

  Petersen takes off, and I put the ball away, going over to pick up my shirt when I hear clapping behind me and I freeze, somehow knowing who’s giving me the sarcastic applause. “Now that was the sort of ball skills that I’d heard about.”

  I pick up my shirt and wipe my face, turning to see Melissa crossing the court, a smirk on her face. “What do you want, Melissa?”

  She comes closer, and I debate pulling my shirt on or not. I don’t want to lose sight of her, I trust her about as much as I’d trust a six foot cottonmouth crossing the court towards me, but I don’t want to let her think I’m bending to her will. Finally I jerk my shirt over my head, staring a hole at her.

  It doesn’t faze her though as she comes closer. “I came to see if you’d made a decision. By the way, I changed my mind, instead of that dive, we can meet up at a more high class place. Julian’s, over near downtown. You know it?”

  “I know it,” I growl. It is a nice bar, but I don’t think I’ll be able to enjoy myself there ever again now. “But you won’t be seeing me there. I told you, I have a girlfriend. And I’m not the sort of man to cheat.”

  “And are you the sort of father to leave your daughter without a means of support?” Melissa asks, her voice in a low threatening purr. “Because I promise you Louden, if you don’t show up, you won’t be able to get a job coaching volunteer youth league in the worst North Pole shithole in Alaska, let alone a paying job coaching. So which is more important to you, your honor or Cathy?”

  “You bitch,” I whisper harshly, trying with everything I have not to hit her. I don’t need that, and I was raised to be better than that anyway. Saying I have a daughter is one thing. Bringing up her name, you’ve crossed a fucking line. “What do you know about Cathy?”

  “That you have a four year old daughter that you’re supporting with about half your salary, and the only reason you live in a nice house is because one of the boosters has you on a sweetheart deal. As for being a bitch, I’ve been called worse, you know how trash talk gets,” Melissa says sweetly. “I just wanted to update you, since you’ve got a lot to think about still between today and Friday.”

  “I told you Melissa, I’ve got a girlfriend!” I reply harshly. “I’m not the kind to cheat.”

  “Oh come on, she’s a fatty,” Melissa says with a laugh. “You know how fat girls are, they’re desperate for dick. She’s probably so happy that a guy who looks like you is willing to even be seen with her that you could ass fuck me right in front of her and she’d be willing to suck the nuggets off your cock if you told her to.”

  “You’re disgusting,” I say with a wince. “Where’d you get such sick ideas?”

  “I played two seasons in Europe, remember? The girls in Germany and Russia get up to all sorts of fun things,” Melissa says with a cruel laugh. “Seriously though, your fatty girlfriend might be hurt, but you’ll be able to keep her. Think about it, you can get action twice as often as a normal man, I won’t ask you for too much, just a few times a week at most. Hell, during the season I might just demand you give me a late night pussy eating. You know how watching tapes takes up time. I’ve heard stories about your tongue as much as your cock.”

  I shake my head, disgusted. “You’re a sick, twisted bitch, you know that?”

  “I know. Two days, Louden. Just keep that in mind,” Melissa says, turning and walking away. Just as she reaches the far end of the court, she turns back around. “By the way, wear a suit. Julian’s isn’t some dive bar, you need to dress up.”

  She leaves, and I count to ten five times before I turn and kick the ball into the stands, yelling in anger and frustration. It doesn’t help much, but there isn’t much else I can do. I don’t even trust taking a long shower, Melissa obviously doesn’t respect locker room doors even.

  Instead I grab my things and go home, avoiding the office except to grab my bag and keys.

  I get in my car, locking the doors, and try to call Denise, but she’s obviously busy as the call goes to her voicemail twice. Desperate, I call Lana, she’s always given me good advice. When she picks up, she sounds surprised. “Louden? Is something wrong with Cathy?”

  “No,” I say, rubbing at my eyes. “Lana, I... I don’t know what to do. She knows about Cathy, about you too I guess. She threatened you both, saying that if I don’t fuck her she’s going to make sure I never get a job. Dammit Lana, what am I supposed to do? Help me, please!”

  It sounds like Lana gets up from her desk, I must have called her at the office still, and in the background I hear her shut a door before she sits down. “Okay, start again, and tell me what happened today.”

  I take a deep breath and try to find the words. “Today was walk-on tryouts. At the end, I had this kid, he’s lollygagging on me, so I challenged him to a game of twenty one.”

  “Smoke show I bet,” Lana says in that Lana way, and I can’t help it, I smile a little. She knows how to bring me back under self control.

  “You know it. Twenty one to eight, with a recycle on my part. But after we were done, I sent the kid off, and Melissa comes up to me. Says that she’s changing the location of our ‘date,’ and when I tell her to go to hell, she threatens Cathy, saying that I need my job to support her. Dammit Lana, she’s right! But...”

  My words fail me, and Lana takes a few seconds before she replies. “You remember your senior year? That game against Georgetown?”

  “Of course I do,” I answer. “Maybe the best game I ever played.”

  Lana hums, and I can hear her nodding in her office. “You know what I remember about that game, Louden? I remember you were hurting so much going into that game. You’d screwed up your shoulder the week before, and your low back was giving you problems too from that charge you took two weeks prior in that game against State. You were hurting so much you couldn’t even cuddle with me in bed, I had to sleep on the couch.”

  “I remember,” I say with a chuckle. “You were pissed at me about that, too.”

  Lana laughs nostalgically. “Yeah, I was. I nearly didn’t go to the game because of it. But I could see how much it meant to you, and it was a Saturday, so I took the booster bus down. That first half, it was maybe even more painful to watch.”

  “Not half as painful as it was to play,” I comment, thinking about the ‘home town reffing’ that happened that trip. Neutral refs my ass, they were letting the big name team do everything but literally kick me in the knee during the first half, while a hard fart from our team would result in a foul. “I’m surprised we survived to the second half.”

  “I wasn’t,” Lana said. “I saw it in your eyes, right after that guy hacked your head off with about thirty seconds left in the first half. Louden, you were getting beat by a team that was better than Mount Reston in every way you could measure. Georgetown was taller, stronger, fa
ster... but they didn’t have something you have.”

  “A large supply of Tylenol?” I ask, and Lana clucks her tongue, like she always does when she’s trying to teach me something and I’m being a wiseass. “Sorry. What?”

  “They didn’t have your heart and brains, Louden. You went out there in the second half, and for those next twenty minutes, you were straight godmode out there. You were tough, you were smart, you couldn’t be stopped. I remember the look on everyone’s face when you nailed that third three pointer, they had no idea what had happened. And you kept nailing shots, but you also were dishing the ball, diving for rebounds, your defense... listen, you know I was never into basketball unless it was you playing, but that game, even I could tell you were something special. Louden, that’s always you. You’ve always been special, and when your back’s against the wall, you tap into something that I don’t think most people even suspect exists in this world. Something... something special and unique. Well, your back’s against the wall now, Louden. I fully expect to get a call from you Saturday saying you pulled something amazing out of your hat.”

  “Thanks, Lana. You always were my biggest cheerleader.”

  “Just don’t let your fear get in the way, Louden. Don’t let you being afraid of losing her stop you from doing the right thing.”