That was certainly true, since the ceilings in here were soaring, much like the ones at the Woodsmen practice facility…I didn’t want to think about that right now, not after my trick to get his approval for the gym equipment.
“Besides curtains—drapes, what else do you want to bring to the office?” I asked him.
He hadn’t given that much thought. We walked through the rest of the downstairs, which meant passing through a lot of rooms. Basically empty rooms. There were random pieces of furniture, like a chair and a rug, but there was nothing that made me think someone could comfortably live here.
“How long have you been in this house?” I asked as he opened kitchen cabinets. I spotted a few cooking tools inside them and some food, but they were also mostly empty.
“Four years,” he answered. “Are there mugs at the office?”
“Yes.” But he never used them anyway, because he bought coffee on the way in rather than taking the free stuff that the Woodsmen provided. “What are you looking for?”
He didn’t seem to be sure. “Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested, but I shook my head.
“No, thanks. I’ll wait for you down here.” Mr. Gowan had never shown any perv tendencies but I didn’t plan to test that out. It was enough that I had come to his house with him—I was not going near any bedroom.
He wasn’t bothered by my refusal and after a few minutes, he returned with a few items: a toothbrush, several pillows, and ablanket, the kind that people put over the arm or back of a couch. I had been considering the purchase of one of those myself. “Is that all you need?” I asked, and he nodded.
“You’ll take them back for me,” he said, “along with the drapes.”
“We can’t get those down without something to stand on,” I reminded him. The chair I’d previously spotted wouldn’t get him high enough.
“What if you got on all fours and I stepped up on your back?”
I hesitated for a moment, not to consider my answer but to make sure he was serious. When I saw that he was, I firmly shook my head. “No,” I stated, and he accepted my answer without argument and I left without the drapes. He mentioned something about golf and, as I’d foreseen, he didn’t return to the office that day. I did because I had forms to turn in.
It hadn’t been fun to trick him, but I was glad that I had when I went to the Junior Woodsmen workout room later that day and saw the crap that they had to use. Ed was already there, wiping down the creaky old equipment. He was aware that I didn’t want to touch anything without sanitization and he was always careful to let me know that it was all clean.
“Thank you,” I told him after we’d said hello. “I saw the guys out on the field.” Ronan had finished early at the dealership and a few of the other Junior Woodsmen had met him here an hour or so ago.
“They’re taking advantage of the weather,” he said. “We’ve had a few dry days and it’s a lot better out there.”
But he was an optimist. A moment later, the guys came in and they were splattered with mud.
“Cate,” Ronan said. He opened his arms as if he was asking me to embrace him.
“No, thank you,” I stated, and he laughed as they walked through to the locker room. He had been kidding about wanting a hug.
“They should have gone outside after working out in here,” I told Ed. That way, they could have headed home rather than having to deal with the cold showers.
“Ronan wanted to do it this way, so you could lift with them,” he explained. “He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I agreed. I put on a pair of rubber gloves and picked up one of his spray bottles of rat-germ killing cleaner.
“He’s steady,” Ed went on. “Good job, future prospects. He’s not depending on football like some of these other guys.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ronan has a trade,” he said, but I shook my head.
“Did you mean that the other Junior Woodsmen are counting on the idea that they’ll move up and play for a real team? Not that this isn’t a real team, too,” I quickly corrected myself.
“That’s ok, I understood,” he told me. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. It’s hard to give up on a dream. Most of them have been playing football since they were little. They set their sights on a future in the big stadiums, hearing the crowds, maybe winning a championship. A lot of them still think that it’s right around the corner. But then, you know.” He shrugged. “The seasons passand it doesn’t happen. Maybe they get hurt or they just lose a little with age, so they’re less explosive and slower getting down the field. It’s just natural,” he said, “but they still don’t want to give up. I think of it like trying to hold water in your hand. It runs out between your fingers no matter how tight you hold them and then it’s gone before you realize.”
That sounded miserable. “And none of them have a chance?” I asked. I looked around at the rusty machines that we’d been using. “This is all pointless?”
“I didn’t say that. Everett Ford, our QB from last season, is training to make it onto the Woodsmen roster right now.” He opened his phone and showed me a social media account with lots of pictures of a shirtless guy lifting weights that looked both newer and cleaner than the ones we had here. “He should make it.” But then he glanced over at the door to the locker room. “For the ones who are here today, it’s hard to say. Sometimes it’s talent and preparation. Sometimes it’s pure luck.”
I’d never believed much in that, though. When other people had commented on something I had been “lucky” about, like having my own car or getting into a good college, I knew the truth: I had achieved those things due to hard work and sacrifice, not some cosmic interference. And when bad things happened, I didn’t take it as anything personal to me. Bad things happened to everyone—like Ronan getting injured during his senior year and not playing as well. That wasn’t personal or unlucky, but I sure hoped that nothing like that would happen to him again.
