Standing in the doorway of my sunporch, watching Gale find the perfect spot, I have no idea what that dream was supposed to mean. Maybe it was a punishment from my subconscious for all the times I conjured self-serving fantasies of Remy and facelessmen. Because if I think about it, I’m not even that older version of me who walked into his room in my dream. When have I ever been that wise and compassionate?
Moving to my worktable, I pull away a sheet of kraft paper that I placed to keep dust and bugs off the latest paver stone I’ve been working on. It’s good, but I don’t know if it’s good enough. I could break it up and start all over again, but it took me days to decide how I wanted the pieces laid out before I set the mold. Grabbing a piece of sandpaper, I set to smoothing out the rough bits of theSakreteone more time. This was always busywork for me, a project to keep boredom at bay. Remembering how Remy fawned over my stones, however, I’m sickened by how I’ve taken for granted small achievements. I’m not DaVinci or anything, but I’ve spent years essentially pouting over what I’m not and what I haven’t done, never stopping to appreciate what I can do. What I am. Who I am. I can’t say I’m thrilled with who I am, but I’d rather buy a beer for today-Chris than last-year-Chris. Well, a soda rather. I mean…maybe just living is enough. Because it’s not always easy. Is it? I think I’m proof of that if nothing else.
Speaking of new ambitions… I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Gale to come back inside so I can close out some of the horrid pressure building outside. Pulling up my email, my steps falter just as I reach the door to the living room.
Damn. They answered.
My pulse flickers in anticipation, opening the email from the communications director of the college. I’m going to owe the editor of the Gazette dinner for telling me about this opportunity if they select me. I still don’t know how I’ll manage speaking in front of a classroom about sports writing, but pushing my boundaries has apparently become my new thing.
I only make it halfway to my recliner. That lightness that so happily made a home in my chest of late dims like no one left in the world believes in fairies. It’s not because they didn’t selectme for their sports writing seminar—which has been delayed until next semester—that has me at a standstill. It’s what comes after: a big, fat bargaining chip. At least, that’s how I see it. The words feel like a cruel joke.
Given your alumnus status and NFL career experience, we would be honored if you would consider speaking at this year’s upcoming pre-winter break safety briefing. Many of our students will be faced with situations and decisions during the holidays that could put them and others in harm’s way. As a former Panther, we feel that our students will find you relatable and inspiring. Our safety briefing will include the topics of alcohol and substance abuse, driving under the influence, situational awareness, and taking proactive safety measures. If you would be comfortable sharing some of your experiences and the trials you faced on any of these topics that may benefit the students as they continue on their college journey, we would be greatly appreciative to have you as our host.
Well…
How about that?
I saw a western movie once where a parched prisoner was about to be given a drink of water, only to have it spilled on the ground in front of him, just out of reach. The semblance of accomplishment I’ve felt I’ve achieved lately threatens to topple off a high shelf and crash to the floor as I stare at the invitation. My sins will never leave me, will they?
I quit giving in to drinking, quit moping on my ass, quit trying to punish Remy for my bitterness, but none of it matters. Not when you take away every brick I manage to lay, because behind the façade, my crimes will always be there.Me…barreling off theroad, smashing into a guardrail, pinned inside a car, blasted all over the news, and crushing the adoration of fans.
Fuck. I wish their invitation were on a piece of paper so I could wad it up, pitch it across the room, and watch Gale maul it into a sloppy mess of sogginess.
I move to my chair, suddenly heavier than I’ve felt in months. I’m so fucking tired of being mad. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want to hate myself. Hate life. Hate the dark days when I have to plaster myself to a heating pad or an ice pack. I just want…some sunshine.
Clicking the power button on my heating pad, I close my eyes and brace for the storm, trying not to grind my teeth when the rogue spikes of pain protest against the warmth like kernels of corn popping in an oil pan. I don’t even like my dentist enough for how much I’ve had to shell out to him.
Something damp saturates the side of my leg, applying pressure. I don’t have to crack an eye to know it’s my trusty companion. I reach out, giving her ears a scratch, then petting her softly to ease her protector instincts. I’m sure she could use a night off.
I try to picture joyful things: warmth and light. Food for the soul, to feed the mind, to overpower my agony, both physical and emotional.Big feelings, I muse, grateful for something to make me smile. My mind latches onto that radiant luminosity, taking me across town to its source. It soothes my agitation over my failed mission of getting the world to forget all about me and my‘trials.’
Hedidn’t forget me.
But he doesn’t see football, or an entitled drunk driver. He just seesme.
If the sun can peek through a storm cloud, does that mean they can co-exist? Does the cloud become less of a cloud, evaporating until finally the darkness is gone? If so, what theheck is in it for the sun? A sweet-as-hell, witty, sexy, kind-hearted sun.
I let out a huff to rival Gale’s when Mom visits and tries to put one of those stupid doggy bandanas on her. What does it matter? Even if the sun ended up wanting the‘grumpy asshole’cloud, the cloud doesn’t even know how to date.
CHAPTER 14
Remy
What was I expecting? That he’d be sitting on my front porch, waiting for me? Turning off the ignition, I lean against the steering wheel of my car, still unable to tear my gaze away from my front steps as though doing so will manifest Chris.
He said he’d be here this morning, but never showed. He could have forgotten. Something could have come up that prevented him from making it. Maybe he just slept in. The possibilities have crossed my mind all day.
It’s the bleaker possibilities that have my stomach queasy. What if something happened to him? When he showed up at the center that day for therapy, he said it was because he’d fallen off his porch. He could be hurt. He seemed melancholy when he was leaving yesterday. I hadn’t stopped to consider that seeing an old college classmate, who went on to have a successful career, might make the sting of his collapsed dreams more pronounced. What if he drove to a bar for what he calls ‘liquid medication’ and broke his rule about not driving?
“Shit,” I whisper, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
On the drive over to his house, I tell myself that it’s probably nothing and that I’ll end up looking like a fool for just showing up again. It would be worth it for the peace of mind it will bring me. He said no one called after he got in his accident. I can seenow that it’s not always safe to assume a person has plenty of people to check on them.
His truck is in his driveway in one piece. That rules out one theory, thank goodness. I don’t think he’d survive another car wreck. Hurrying to the door, I don’t bother checking his backyard. The gate is closed, and everything is still wet from the rain we had yesterday.
My knock is answered by a beat of silence and then a lowwoof. Good old Gale, his protector. I won’t be appeased, however, until I know it’s not a bark of distress. I’ve never had a dog, so I don’t know how to distinguish signs of distress from an excited bark that someone is at the door. She keeps barking, though, and now I’m worried that I’m learning what a K-9 cry for help sounds like.
Trying the knob, the door is unlocked and opens for me. She stops as soon as I peek my head inside, licking her lips and wagging her tail.
