“Well, you’ve seen the circus,” I said to Meghan. “If you want me to look into the Omaha job, I’ll see if it’s still open.”
Meghan smacked me on the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your parents are sweet, and that nephew is adorable.” She paused for a few seconds, probably to weigh the wisdom of finishing her thought.
“You were, however, right on the money about your brother and his girlfriend. Ricky was playing footsy with me all through dinner. That Vicky is a piece of work, isn’t she?”
“I believe I did give you fair warning.”
She seemed embarrassed to add, “Don’t get mad at your brother, but he told me to remember him as the one with the handsome face. Does he know I was the one that hit you with the door?”
“No, I never mentioned that to any of the family. It’s good to know you can count on your brother.”
“I have to say, it was really weird seeing two of you,” Meghan replied. “How can you be identical and completely different?”
It had been great to see the family again, although I wasn’t sad that they were on their way home. In fact, I was glad the entire Class of 1979 was gone. It was just the two of us left behind in the Valley.
We changed into casual clothes and walked over to Donny’s. I didn’t mind wearing a suit and tie on occasion, but given the choice I would live my entire life in shorts, t-shirt, and sandals. As good as Meghan looked in shorts and a t-shirt, I hoped she enjoyed wearing them.
The Phillies were playing on the West Coast, and I knew Hank would put the game on for us. Being a cheerleader for so long, I wasn’t surprised Meghan was a sports fan. She probably knew more than me about football and basketball. It was surprising that she also liked baseball. I’d have to overlook the fact that she was a rabid Pirates fan. We’d watch whichever team was playing. God help us when Philly played Pittsburgh.
As soon as we walked into Donny’s, Hank reached up and put the game on the television. He poured two beers and pushed them across the bar.
“Babysitting duty again tonight?” he asked.
It was the beginning of an awesome summer.
Top of the Sixth Inning
On Friday night of Memorial Day weekend, Meghan and I drove west on Interstate 80 to Williamsport. She was quiet, and I was certain something was on her mind. I was trying to think of a conversation starter when she spoke up.
“Randy, I want to apologize for the things I said to you on graduation night. I hope you don’t feel obligated to go out with me.”
I had no idea what she meant. “Do you want to give me a little more to work with, Meg? You have me a bit confused.”
“I said you were my only friend. Please don’t feel like you have an obligation to stay with me. It’s not like I’m a basket case.”
It was difficult not to laugh at her statement. As serious as her mood was, I didn’t dare. If she asked me to, I’d run barefoot through broken glass. For some unfathomable reason, she was afraid I thought of her as an obligation. I needed to respond, but words once again eluded me. For better or worse, I had more time to think because she wasn’t finished.
“I should not have talked so much about Eric and the Sigma house. I should have had a little more concern for your feelings. That could not have been easy for you to hear. I got myself into that mess, and I shouldn’t be throwing it in your face. I have no one to blame but myself.”
Given the extra time to think, I was able to formulate a response. “Meghan, it’s funny you bring up that conversation. I was feeling embarrassed about dumping my high school horror stories on you. It was the most honest conversation we ever had with each other. I’m glad you were able to confide in me. I know, first-hand, that it’s not good to keep problems bottled up inside.”
She perked up a little, and a trace of a smile crept back onto her face. I knew I could generate a better reaction from her and added, “I’m also very glad you asked me not to take the job in Omaha.”
Ever so coyly, she asked, “Am I the reason you stayed?”
“All you had to do was ask,” I replied. “If you didn’t want me around, I’d be driving a thousand miles past Williamsport this weekend. It wouldn’t be far enough for me to forget about you, but I would have gone.”
Her smile returned with full intensity.
“Eric and the Sigma house are ancient history. Unless you feel the need to talk, we don’t ever again have to mention them.”
She unbuckled her seat belt, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks, you’re an angel,” she said.
She sat back down, reclined the seat and, after a few minutes, dozed off.
The memory of the previous year’s visit to Williamsport kept playing in my head like a film strip on continuous loop. The fear that this weekend could be more of the same was triggering another anxiety attack. After exiting the Interstate and navigating several long, winding, country roads, we turned into Meghan’s driveway.
Meghan awoke from her nap. “It looks like your parents don’t want you riding in the Pinto any longer,” I said.
Groggy and confused, she asked what I was talking about. I pointed to the new Camaro with Congratulations Meghan written on the rear window. She let out a scream that nearly shattered my windshield.
The Camaro fit right in next to her dad’s Mercedes and mom’s Cadillac. I parked as far away as possible from their cars. As far as I knew, rust wasn’t contagious, but why take the chance? Meghan and her mom took turns squealing as they walked around the new set of wheels. I kept my distance while the girls had their moment.
I was unloading our suitcases from my beat-up Pinto when Meghan’s dad came over to give me a hand. Expecting some rude remark about my car, I tried to beat him to the punch line.
“If you like, I’ll park this in a cornfield, sir.”
Looking at the Pinto, he said, “Don’t feel bad, Randal, compared to my first car this is a luxury ride.”
It was unexpected and comforting to realize he had humble roots.
Saturday morning, Meghan and her mom were up with the sun. They were out for an early breakfast and then a day of shopping. Meghan needed things for her apartment and uniforms for work. I hoped they wouldn’t be gone all day. Her dad and I would be spending quality time together until they returned.
Didn’t feel right sleeping in and squandering a rare Saturday off from work. I rolled out of bed just after they left and found a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Coffee cup in hand, I strolled out to the back porch and took a seat.
The view was mesmerizing as the dewy landscape glistened in the morning light. Several acres of manicured backyard reached out to a farm field. The razor straight rows of the field stretched for a mile until they faded into a series of lush, green, rolling hills. The hills merged into a mountain range on the horizon. It was literally and figuratively a million-dollar view. Mr. Mallory was also an early riser, and he soon joined me on the porch.
He spoke first. “Good morning, Randal! How are you this fine day?”
“Never better, sir, thanks for asking.”
“Randal, would you mind if I call you Randy?” It was the first time he sounded unsure of himself.
“I wish you would, sir.”
“Good, then please stop calling me sir.”
Complying with his request, I said, “Sure thing, Mr. Mallory.”
I’m not sure he liked that any better, but I didn’t think he was ready for me to call him Nick. He took a few sips of his coffee while he surveyed his estate. I feared another speech but, to my surprise, received something of an apology.
He cleared his throat and said, “Randy, I regret the things I said to you in the past. Meghan is our only child, and her mother and I are very protective. It’s just that she had gone out with Eric for such a long time. I thought a lot of Eric, at the time, and I was having difficulty adjusting to her seeing
someone new.”
If he only knew what that son of a bitch did to his daughter, he’d probably arrange for him to be covered in molasses and staked to an ant hill. If Meghan didn’t tell him anything, neither would I. I listened respectfully and smiled politely.
He continued, “It’s easy to see how happy Meghan is since she met you. I know my daughter is very fond of you. Can I trust that your intentions are honorable?”
I didn’t see that coming! A response was required, but I was so stunned I fumbled for words. “Yes, sir . . . er . . . um, I mean, Mr. Mallory . . . sir. In a year, maybe two, I hope to be able to tell you just how much Meghan means to me. I can’t do it just yet because I want to be able to do things the right way. Paying for college has eaten up my savings. I have a good-paying job, but I have to wait until the bank balance is built back up.”
He seemed pleased with my answer and then he, again, caught me off guard. “I can always use an intelligent young man in my business. Would you consider coming to work for me?”
It’s amazing how many thoughts can race through your mind in a split second. He was offering me a job. No doubt, it would be a good-paying job. He would not allow his daughter to want for anything. However, that good-paying job would be dependent on my relationship with Meghan. If things didn’t work out between us, I’d be out in a heartbeat. If things did work out, I would always be the kid who married the boss’s daughter.
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mallory. To be honest with you, I know a lot more about restaurants than tractors. I’ve also made a commitment to work for Chet. I can’t break a commitment once it’s been made. I think that may be a trait you’ll come to appreciate in the future.”
He smiled and said, “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, Randy. I’ll look forward to having that conversation with you next year.”
The conversation we were having wasn’t over yet. He studied my face as if it were a portrait and said, “Those scars do something for you. They make you look like the man I hoped my daughter would find.”
Saturday afternoon, Meghan and I took a dip in the pool. It was the first time we’d been alone since we pulled into the driveway the night before.
“Your dad is being awfully nice to me,” I said.
Meghan laughed and said, “Business is the one thing my dad likes better than sports. He sees you differently now that he’s seen you run the restaurant.”
“I think it goes deeper than the restaurant. He said something strange about my face. I think he knows something.”
Meghan looked horrified. “I didn’t tell you because he promised he wouldn’t let on. He knows everything!”
“Everything?”
“Everything!”
I stared at her in disbelief. “What made you tell him?
“He figured it out himself,” she said. “Not much gets past him. I couldn’t get away with anything when I lived at home.”
“The end of Eric’s football career was front page news in Williamsport. After the story ran in the paper, word got back to my parents that I had a black eye. I should have known they’d find out. There were ten thousand people at the last two football games. It figures someone in the stands must have known my parents.
“When we stopped into Chet’s before the basketball tournament, Dad spotted the fresh scar under your eye. He knew you’d been in a fight. As angry as I became when he laughed at you, he knew it had something to do with me. It didn’t take too long for him to connect the dots.
“He wouldn’t let up until he found out how I got the black eye. The way I acted around you in the restaurant, he said it was obvious you didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t going to lie to him. When I told him Eric raped me, I thought he would explode. He demanded I press charges, but I begged him to let it go. It would just be Eric’s word against mine. Who was going to believe me?”
She fought back tears as she said, “It was bad enough that everyone was gossiping about what happened to me. Some people were even saying it was my fault. Everywhere I’d go people would stare. I was hurting so badly that I wanted to die. That night in the library, I was . . . I was thinking of ways . . . ”
She paused to calm herself down and then said, “You were in pain, too, but you never missed a class or day of work. You were always at my side when I needed you. I had to keep going because you wouldn’t quit.
“I cheered at those last two games and didn’t care what anyone knew or thought about me. You were the only person that mattered, and you couldn’t take your black and blue eyes off me. I told Dad you got me through it all. Without you, I just don’t know what I might have done.”
Meghan was somber as she tenderly ran her finger over the scar Eric gave me.
“My dad knows how you got the scars, and he knows about the concussions. He knows you’ve always been a gentleman and at times my guardian angel. I told him he should get down on his knees and beg your forgiveness. He felt horrible for giving you such a hard time. I promise, he’ll never say another bad word about you.”
Then she smiled and said, “He was really happy when he found out you were the one who put Eric in the hospital.”
“Maybe that’s why he offered me a job.”
“Did you take it?” she nervously asked.
“No, I politely declined. I can’t let Chet down. Besides, I don’t know anything about farm equipment.”
Without hesitation, she said, “Good, I’m done living here. I like Central Valley much better.”
Looking around at her parents’ palatial property, I was amazed at her comment.
“How could you not like this life of luxury?”
“This is my parents’ life. None of this makes me happy. I want to make it on my own, without living off their money. You don’t know how I admire what you did in college. I was attached to an umbilical cord that stretched from Central Valley to Williamsport.”
“Gee, Meghan, you make washing dishes sound noble.”
“You know what I mean.” Then looking out into the garden, she added, “Besides, that scarecrow was a lousy playmate.”
After dinner, Meghan was eager to try out the Camaro. I declined her offer to let me drive. There was no way I was going to put the first scratch on her new car. We drove to her high school where I saw the football stadium that launched her cheerleading career.
She stared wistfully at the entrance to the empty stadium.
“An empty football stadium is such a forlorn place,” she said. “It’s difficult to explain what I mean. It’s just something that I’ve always felt.”
“No need to explain, Meghan, I know exactly what you mean. I’ve always felt that way about a baseball field,” I replied.
Finding an unlocked gate, we entered the stadium and strolled along the sideline. After our stroll we moved up into the bleachers and took a seat. She inhaled deeply, as if she was breathing in the past.
“My dad and I watched football on TV all the time.” Looking out onto the field, she said, “My first game here was in the ninth grade. That afternoon was unforgettable.”
She paused to look around the stadium and reminisce.
“You have to remember that I was the lonely girl from the cornfield. The stadium was packed long before kickoff. There were marching bands, the color guard, and baton twirlers performing. The cheerleaders had the crowd swaying and cheering. When the team ran out onto the field, the roar of the crowd was almost frightening. I was completely blown away. It was the most exciting thing I had ever seen. It was . . . it was thrilling!
“I made up my mind that I would be a part of it the next year. Playing football was, obviously, not an option. I didn’t know how to play a musical instrument, so I couldn’t be in the band. I quit field hockey and tried out for cheerleading.”
I interrupted her. “I always thought you looked athletic. Were you good at field hockey?”
With a look of pride, she said, “I was damn good! The coach was not happy when I traded in my stick for pom poms. Hockey was fun to play, but no one came to our games. Not even our parents showed up to watch. It just couldn’t match the excitement of a football game.
“My freshman year I was skinny as a stick. Fortunately, I started filling out by the time I was a sophomore. The first couple of rows had to hear my knees knocking before my first game. Scared does not begin to explain how I felt.
“The very first cheer cured my nerves. The crowd roared, and I was hooked! There is no greater rush than performing in front of thousands of people. I’m going through withdrawal knowing I’ll never do it again.”
I was envious of her memories. High school was nothing more than somewhere I had to go for four years. Whatever school spirit I may have had was beaten out of me by Billy Hanson in my sophomore year.
To avoid being a complete social misfit I made myself go to a couple of games each season. I would rather have gone to work and made some money. As much as I love baseball, I never saw a game in high school. There was no reason to watch my brother be the hero.
When Meghan was ready to leave the stadium, we toured Williamsport and visited some of her old haunts. They were typical high school hangouts. There was a bowling alley, a movie theater, and a drive-in hamburger restaurant. Meghan couldn’t resist indulging her sweet tooth when we passed her favorite ice cream stand. We pulled in and ordered two double-dipped cones.
The last remnants of the pink sky were fading as the sun set behind the mountain. Meghan was in kind of a weird mood. She was quiet or maybe just reflective as she ate her ice cream. I suppose reliving your high school glory days can do that to a person.
“I had some really good times in high school,” she finally said. “There were games, dances, proms. We had so many crazy adventures. I wish . . . I just wish I was with you and not . . . .”
A Life On College Hill Page 15