by LJ Evans
I didn’t have much time to think about you until practice was over. Coach kept me real busy. And I think over the next few years, my mama became Coach’s biggest fan because he was able to take that energy of mine and leash it into something positive. Something no one had really been able to do, even you. My mama was waiting for me in the parking lot. I slid into the car with wet hair and a smile.
“So, looks like it went good,” she said.
“I think I’m in love,” I told her.
She laughed. “He’s a little old for you, honey.” Which brought my mind immediately back to you, and my smile was wiped away.
“Any news on Jake?”
She shook her head. “Let’s go find out.”
I don’t think I breathed the whole way home. We saw your mama’s car parked out front, and we skipped our door to go in yours. My eyes went immediately to you. You didn’t look happy, but you didn’t look devastated either, so I felt like I could breathe a little again. Like I’d been given a small shot of oxygen to tide me over until the next break.
“So, what’s the verdict?” my mama asked in her professional tone that she took at the hospital.
“Type 1 Diabetes,” your mama said with a frown.
We all just stared at each other. It was then that I noticed the needles and monitors and little bottles spread out on the table. There was a printed-out schedule and a pamphlet on food choices. I met your eyes again, and you kind of shrugged.
“Football?” I whispered.
“Don’t be silly, Cami. Of course, he can continue to play football. Diabetes isn’t debilitating. As long as they take care of themselves, people with diabetes can do everything anyone else can do,” my mama responded, still in her business tone.
“Is that true?” I asked you. I guess I should have just believed my mama. I mean, she was around this stuff all the time, but until I heard it from you, I couldn’t believe it. I guess maybe I should have listened closer to the grown-ups then and less to you, but I didn’t. Instead, my eyes went back to yours.
You nodded in agreement with Mama, and the noose around my heart lightened just a bit more. I knew you weren’t happy. I knew that this was a game changer, but it wasn’t like you had to give up anything you really loved. Maybe just the MoonPies and the rest of the junk food we raked in.
♫ ♫ ♫
All of that meant our lives took on a new pattern. I still had a supply of food and drinks in my backpack. You had needles and a monitor. Instead of me watching your practice, we both went to practice and then met at the corner between the high school and the middle school to walk home and do homework like normal. But we were both a little different now. I had something besides you to focus on. You had something besides football and girls to focus on. It was like our lives had stretched a little in opposite directions from each other. But when we laid on your bed, side by side, talking about our day while you texted the gaggle of geese and did homework, for those few hours, it was the same.
A Perfectly Good Heart
“Why would you wanna make the very first scar?”
- Swift, James, Verges
Like it or not, you were the first to break my heart. You used to tease me that you’d beat the crap out of any boy who did. Ha. You were the only one to break it. Ever. You left all the scars that are now embedded there like the notches on our victory tree. The first time you broke it, you didn’t even know. Not for a long time. Not till I spelled it out for you, and it took me a long time to have the guts to say it to your face. I was afraid that if I told you, you’d leave me behind more than you already were.
It was in your freshman year that I first had the courage to tell you. And it all began and ended with Kayla.
We’d been pulled in different directions over the course of the last couple years because of my time on the competitive dive team, and your football. But it got worse as you entered high school and started as the quarterback on the JV football team.
Us spending so much time apart, was a hard pill for me to swallow. I hated that I wasn’t able to protect you or to cheer you on. With my meets, I missed a lot of football games. And you missed a lot of my meets, but we were always there for each other if we could be. We definitely were each other’s biggest fans… and biggest critics. I was always telling you what you hadn’t seen on the field, and you were always telling me when my legs weren’t in the right position, or I splashed too much.
It was a mixed blessing that you didn’t need me watching over you quite as much because you had your needles and your monitor, but there were still days when all your levels got off, and I was typically the first one to notice it. I could tell by the things you’d say or the scowl you’d get on your face. Even your mama was impressed by how quickly I knew you needed a shot or food or pure sugar.
You’d been my protector for so long, that I think you resented it a little that I was your protector in those cases. Sometimes you’d gripe at me for watching you like you were a baby, but mostly, you were grateful when I handed you a candy bar when you needed it most.
In order to keep our time apart down to a minimum, I was usually the first one out of the pool, dried off, and at the boys’ locker room waiting for you to come out after football practice. I’d always breathe a sigh of relief when I saw your grin, knowing that all was good in our world. I can’t believe that you even tolerated having the sixth-grade tomboy pick you up at the locker room. I mean, I’m sure the boys thought you had the responsibility of walking me home, but it didn’t feel like that to me. To me, it felt like I was watching over you.
Do you remember the time you came out of the locker room with a black eye, and I was all over it like ants on a chocolate cake? You laughed it off, explaining that you’d “accidently” gotten elbowed by this sophomore, Brian, as he was trying to block you. We both knew the truth though. Brian was just pissed because you’d taken his quarterback position on the JV team as a freshman. The coaches didn’t even bat an eye at passing you over the freshman football team. In fact, there was a long discussion about putting you directly on the varsity team. But they had a halfway decent varsity quarterback, and I think they were afraid of you getting hurt or burning out before they could really use you, the god of football.
There was no question in my mind that Brian had done it on purpose, so as Brian came out of the locker room, I didn’t even think. I just reacted. I balled up my fist, reached up and cracked him one across the jaw. I mean, I was tall for a sixth grader, but Brian was a lot taller, so the jaw was what I could reach.
His head flew back and hit the brick wall with a crack. He tried to shake it off. But all the kids around him started laughing hysterically, and he stepped toward me with a face so red that it could have been marinara sauce. You pushed me behind you.
“Fuckin’ freak!” he growled.
You held me back without breaking a sweat, but I was using every ounce I had to get at him some more. My fists were flying, and I threw a few choice words his way. Paul had joined us by this time, and he was shielding me too. I’m sure to you and Paul it seemed like you were blocking him from me, but I felt the opposite. I knew I could get some prime kicks in to his nether regions for calling me a freak, and I was still royally pissed that he’d marked up your gorgeous face. But the thing was, Brian had dropped his gear and looked like he wanted to take me on.
Thinking back, I can imagine how asinine it must have looked. Sophomore football player raising fists at a scrawny girl with lean muscle but no mass. It was at that point that Blake also joined us. He leaned his elbow on my shoulder in a nonchalant, casual way that hid his acute readiness, and said, “What’s up, Super Girl?”
You knew Blake was there but just continued to stare Brian down, “What ya gonna do, Bri? Beat up a sixth-grade girl? You’ll look like more of an ass than you already do.”
Brian glared at you and me and the number of built guys that were clearly on my side and realized he was losing the battle, so he
grabbed his stuff and slammed his way out of the building.
“Jesus, Cam,” you breathed out as he left.
“He’s such a shithead,” I muttered.
“Don’t cuss.” You grabbed my arm, hauled me out the door, and dragged me down the street toward home before I could shake you off. You were quiet for a long time. I knew you were angry with me, but I wasn’t really sure why or just how mad. We’d always taken care of each other, right? And you’d been mad at me before, but I always seemed to have this love-hate relationship with it. On the one hand, I didn’t want you to be angry, but on the other hand, I loved that I had your full attention in those moments.
Finally, I couldn’t take the silent treatment, so I said the only stupid thing I could think of which was, “Don’t be mad.”
I’d stopped, but you didn’t. You kept going. I raced to catch up. When you did respond, you didn’t even look at me.
“I know you don’t think about what you do before you do it, Cam, but I can look after myself. What are people going to say if I rely on a little kid to fight my battles for me? I can beat the shit out of Brian wherever and whenever I choose, and I choose to beat him on the football field.”
I knew you were right. You’d look like a wuss if I went around beating up everyone for you. But even though I knew that was true, it irked me that you’d called me a little kid. So, I decided I was as infuriated as you were.
I crossed my arms, dragged my feet, and added my own silence to yours. It took some time, but once we were almost home, you reached out and grabbed my right hand to take a look at it. I didn’t realize it, but I’d bruised my knuckles on Brian’s face. Who knew that hitting someone could impact you so quickly? That never happened to the heroes on TV. Reality sucked. And I hadn’t even felt my hand when you and I were fighting, but now that you were holding it in yours, and I could see the worry in your eyes, I realized just how much it was throbbing.
“What am I going to tell your mama?”
I shrugged. “I’ll just tell her I hit it on the diving board.”
We went to your house, and you iced it for me while we did our homework together, but by the time I got home, someone had called my mama. Probably Brian’s mama, because in my book he was just the type of sissy to complain to his mama about some little girl hitting him.
My mama was angrier than a bear stung by bees, but my daddy was trying not to smile while they talked to me about aggression and expressing myself in other ways. It was an old talk. I’d been shoving people on the playground for a long time. Mostly bullies. Regardless, I was grounded. For a week. Unfortunately for me, my parents had finally figured out what really mattered to me… you. So, the deal was no more studying at your house for a week.
It was probably the most time we’d spent apart in my entire life, even considering traveling for dive meets and your football games. We still got to walk home together, after dive and football practice, but you had to leave me at my door. I felt like a puppy whose owner was leaving to go to work.
And as if that wasn’t already awful enough, what really ended up hurting, what my parents didn’t realize would get to me even more than having to abstain from my daily Jake fix, was that this allowed Kayla to writhe her way into our alone time in her serpent-like way. She took to coming home with us and “studying” with you. She was obviously thrilled to find out that I couldn’t home in on her time with you. And you might have liked a bit of alone time, too, because of all the kissing you were into these days. Of course, your mama was quick to pick up on this, and I was happy to find out that Mia was placed in your room as a chaperone.
Mia was going to be on my side. Well, I could easily manipulate her to be on my side, leaving you with as little kissy time as possible. I could make sure that she’d be blabbing to your mama if too much hot and heavy happened.
♫ ♫ ♫
After my grounding period was over, Kayla didn’t stop accompanying us home. I tried not to hate her. For your sake. For Wynn’s sake. Because Wynn was a good friend, and she was already having enough issues with Kayla and their parents. And on the upside, Wynn got to come with us too. I think maybe their parents finally found out where Kayla had been spending her afternoons, and they wanted to make sure there was a chaperone in the room as much as your mama had. Either way, it allowed me to spend time with Wynn and you, so I guess I should have been grateful to Kayla. I didn’t see it like that then. All I saw was her taking you from me because you hardly had eyes for me when she was there.
She even got my spot on the bed next to you. Wynn and I were regulated to the floor. I’m sure my grades suffered that year because it was hard to study when all I could do was listen to the slobbering noises of your tangled tongues and her giggles. And, God, she giggled a lot. It was really rather stomach-churning.
Wynn and I would roll our eyes and sometimes make smooching noises just to irritate the two of you. Normally, you’d end up throwing a pillow or a pencil at us. Sometimes, when I really couldn’t handle it, Wynn and I would grab the pillows and initiate a pillow fight with you. This always made Kayla angry because her hair and/or makeup would get messed up and that would send her off home with Wynn in tow. Wynn always felt like she’d won one for the team, though, and she’d give me the thumbs-up sign as she left the room. Sigh. Wynn was such a good friend.
Unfortunately, Wynn was huge into dance. Ballet. Shivers go down my spine even thinking about something as girly as that. Coach made me take a ballet class at one point, wanting me to see how the grace of dance could help my dives. I think I almost passed out from just the action of putting on the leotard and tights. I mean, my swim suit and the leo weren’t that different. But tights? And those P-I-N-K ballet shoes? God. It felt like I was two years old. And the dance teacher and I definitely did not see eye to eye. Ballet and I lasted two weeks. That was all the teacher and I could take.
Wait. Focus. Back to Wynn and Kayla. Anywho, Wynn was really good at ballet. So, there were a few days a week that Wynn didn’t get to come with us. You’d think their mama would have dragged Kayla along with them to the dance studio, but no such luck. Instead, Kayla was tagging along with us almost permanently. She was stuck to us like a Swahili bird to a giraffe which was probably what put the idea in my head at Halloween of things being stuck together. And what led to Kayla telling me to stop tagging along. Did you know she did that? I don’t think you did.
This is how it got started. It was a Saturday close to Halloween, and it was raining sheets of hard, steady water such that even us outdoorsy kids weren’t going to brave it. Instead, we were doing the rare thing of playing video games. Well, the boys and I were. It was Paul, Craig, you and I. Kayla and Wynn weren’t around, thankfully. All of you boys were joking around about what you were going to “be” for Halloween because really, dressing up was not very cool anymore, so the suggestions were pretty crass. I was quiet because I knew if I said anything, you’d remember my age and who I was and tell them to knock it off, and the truth was that it was kind of funny listening to boy humor. It was an education at least.
At one point, you were joking around, and you said that you should dress up as Jesus Christ on the cross. You were kidding, but your mama chose that moment to walk through carrying a basket of laundry, and she almost dropped the basket.
“Jake Carter Phillips! That’s blasphemy! We may not be the most religious of families, but I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect.” Neither of our families attended church, which was pretty much a sin all on its own in Tennessee, but your mama was still all put out.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that, as most of the girls in the neighborhood already thought you were a god, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for you to be dressed up as the savior. Or, at least, not that much more of a blasphemy than normal.
You looked a little chagrinned and told her you were just joshing, but then she stood there waiting to hear what else you had decided to dress up as. You didn’t really wan
t to dress up as anything, but I dove in.
“We’re going as conjoined twins.”
Your mama looked at me like she didn’t know what to make of me. You, Craig, and Paul just stared at me like I’d gone insane. After your mama had looked at me for a long time, she just shook her head and left the room.
You were all over me after she left, wrestling me to the ground, and rubbing my head until I had electricity in my hair so bad that I could have charged your iPhone. But I loved it. And Kayla wasn’t there to mess it up with some demanding little giggle or boobs sticking out of a tank top that showed more bra than it covered.
So, that’s how we ended up joined at the hip on Halloween instead of you being Kayla’s partner. I think she’d wanted you to be Robin Hood to her Maid Marian. Did she really think you were going to wear tights? You were a Southern football player and your football uniform was as close to tights as you’d ever get.
We always took Mia out trick-or-treating, and somehow and for some reason, Marina had taken my conjoined twins idea to heart and came up with an outfit for us. Neither of us could bear the thought of telling her that we’d rather be caught dead in our underwear than caught in a costume on Halloween as a freshman and a sixth grader. And even if we had, I honestly think she had done it as punishment for you saying you were going to be Jesus Christ and would have made you wear it anyway.
Either way, that was how we ended up tied together when we ran into Kayla. Since you hadn’t agreed to be her Robin Hood, she’d changed gears and was wearing a sexy vampire outfit that really wasn’t anything a respectable vampire would be caught dead in. I saw her look of surprise at us being tied so closely together. She and Wynn quickly joined our trip around the block with Mia.