“That’s me.” I nervously chuckle, as I feel so torn. I want so badly to talk to Gia, but also don’t want Rocco to slam me against the wall again. Choosing the latter of the two options, I flash my palm up in a wave, and turn away from Gia, dragging my feet back to the booth.
Some days I can’t wait to get out of this town. Not to put any distance between Gia and me, but you know when you’ve outgrown some people, and maybe even a place. That’s clearly Rocco and me. Eight more months until graduation, and it can’t come fast enough.
seven
North
About a decade later . . .
Finally, it’s the NFL season kickoff. I’ve been waiting for months, excited to try out my new, mounted 72-inch flatscreen. Of course, I’ve been using it for months, watching animal and nature documentaries, but that’s not nearly the same as football. On my back porch, I’ve got Cajun seasoned chicken wings perfecting in my wood chip meat smoker. They’ll be done by halftime.
Sunday excellence.
I ease down onto my soft leather La-Z-Boy recliner, kick up the footrest, and crack open a frosty Dr. Pepper. The carbonationbubbles burst out and fizzle against my palm. I’m almost salivating as I slowly raise the can to my mouth.
“Heeeeeelp!”
One of my brows hikes as I follow the sound, and I sit up straight, arching my neck to see out the window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mr. Bella’s old red Ford is running in his driveaway, but he’s nowhere around. Maybe that’s a little odd, but I’m sure he ran back in the house to get something.
It’s not worth missing the first kickoff for.
“Heeelp me, please!”
I advance toward the door, bracing it open, but still, I see nothing. I scratch the back of my head as my gaze draws back to the TV. I missed the first kickoff. I glance at the clock counting down the minutes until the end of the first quarter. There is nothing I want to do more today than watch my Giants win, but I can’t ignore someone screaming for help. I sigh, tucking my phone into my pocket as I rush out the front door.
My concern growing with each passing second, I follow the bellowing around the back of Mr. Bella’s house to the detached double garage off the back alley. The overhead door is open, but I can’t see inside of it. Stacks of boxes—every size and shape—overflow out the front. It’s like it's moving day, or something. “Mr. Bella,” I holler. “Are you there?”
“North?” His voice staggers from somewhere deep inside the caves of boxes.
“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?” I inch closer, but there’s no path to go between the boxes. “Where are you? What’s all the hollering about?”
“Don’t laugh,” his voice is stern, echoing off the unfinished walls and cement slab floor. “I seem to have gotten trapped back here when I stepped on some of my fly trap paper, lost my balance, and knocked over a stack of boxes on top of myself.”
My gaze scans the boxes, and again, I’m amazed how he got past the first row. I’m going to need a crane to get him out. “Um, hold on a second!” I pull out my phone, still assessing the stacks of boxes. If they are heavy, it could take an hour, or more, to get back to him. I couldn't help but feel an intense pang of regret.I’m going to miss the game. But deep down, I understand Mr. Bella needs me. “I’m calling for backup. We’ll get you out.”
I scroll through my contacts, looking for a number to call. I sure don’t want to call Rocco. Even though he lives in town, he turned into one of those dudes I never care to see again. I scroll through my small list of names, landing on my group list for the football team I coach. They’d muscle these boxes out of here in a hurry, but if he’s hurt, his family needs to know. Since I already established I’m not calling Rocco, that leaves me withGia.
A ping sparks in my gut at the sight of her name in my phone. Gia and I hadn’t spoken to each other since high school. I had all my dreams come true, getting drafted to the NFL right after high school. Actually, Rocco and I both got drafted, and it was such an exciting thing for our school and town.
My dream was short lived when I blew out my ACL during training, before I even played in a game. I returned home to attend college for coaching. It was around that time, I quickly discovered Rocco was illegally betting and cheating, and he got kicked out of the NFL. I was not the one to turn him in, but since I was the only person he knew that fully understood his secret, he blamed me for getting caught. I tried to tell him so many ways, it wasn’t me who turned him in, but he always seemed to blame it on me.
After that, we drifted apart, as my life was heading in a different direction. I got a job teaching and coaching at my old high school. The housing crunch was in full steam, and I couldn’t find a place to live. When my parents decided to retire, move to Mexico, and sell their house, I jumped at the chance to buy themout. Their house is in my district, and close to work. It was an afterthought when I remembered that Rocco and Gia’s dad still lived next door.
Rocco hardly came home, so that isn't an issue. Gia moved further west, to the Hamptons, working in some fancy resort. When she does come home, I avoid going outside, or I stay late at work. We never had a falling out.
It’s the opposite.
Gia and I never had much of anything, thanks to Rocco making sure I never got near her. Staying away didn’t do anything to cure my affection for her, because even after all these years, the sound of her name makes my heart slam against my ribcage, reminding me of all the risks I didn’t take in life. Not to mention, all the ways Rocco bullied me, and larger than anything else—all the love I’ve stored for Gia.
I rake my hand through my hair and cringe.
I can’t believe I never asked her out.
I almost did, once.
I chickened out, instead asking her to save me one dance.
Ha! Not sure what I was going to do with one dance, but the thought of holding her in my arms for even a few minutes made my heart quake at a magnitude 9.0.
