Ever since he’d signed my forms for the gym equipment and new refrigerator, my heart had made a guilty little jump when he said my name. I got up and went in to join him. “Can I help you with something?”
He was back to looking through his window and I guessed where his mind was going. “I’m thinking about drapes,” he announced, so I had been correct.
“Are you still thinking that you want to bring the ones from your house? We could hire someone to take them down and reinstall them here, like a professional drape person.” I wasn’t sure if such a person existed but I wanted to be perfectly clear: I would not be the installer myself.
“No, I should leave those where they are.” Then, to my surprise, I heard the name of the woman whose face I’d just been staring at on my computer. “Celestine hired someone to do the house and that woman was good. It was one of her cousins.”
“A Whitaker?” I guessed.
“Yes, but that’s not her name. It’s something about flatulence.”
“What? You mean that her last name has to do with…gas?”
“That’s it, her name is Amy Gas. Find her, and she can do the drapes in here.” He tapped his lip with his index fingers. “She should know what to pick.”
“I’m not sure how it works, but Woodsmen Stadium may follow the same policies as an apartment building. I can’t drastically change things where I rent,” I explained. “My lease forbids it. Would the Woodsmen people care if you made a lot of holes in the walls to hang your drapes?”
“I’ve never dealt with rentals,” he said. “Would they?”
“I could ask before I talk to your wife’s cousin,” I answered. But I wasn’t entirely happy with this. “I’m not supposed to be your assistant for personal stuff,” I told him. “My job description didn’t include going to your house or decorating. I’m happy to help you this time with the drapes, but is there anything else that I could be doing instead? Any special projects—Woodsmen projects?”
Tap, tap. He seemed to be thinking deeply but I already knew he didn’t do that. “I have a sense that you may be acting frustrated due to something outside of this office,” he told me.
“I’m not frustrated by anything.”
“I feel like external issues are affecting your performance here,” he said, nodding at the back of the fence outside his window.
“Affecting my performance?” I echoed. “No, I don’t agree.”
“I’m picking up on anger,” he continued. “I’m sorry that you’re disappointed with your rental lifestyle, but that shouldn’t come into play in the office. We’re professionals.”
One of us was. I bit my tongue and only nodded, and then I went back to my desk and filled out a purchase request. The Junior Woodsmen needed snow-clearing equipment, and maybe this was a good time to buy that since it was spring. I might have been able to catch a sale. While I was at it, I filled in one for sideline heaters and another for lockers.
Also, I would tell the drapes installer to drill holes as large as Lake Michigan. “Before you head out for your flight, I’ll have a few forms for you to sign,” I called to Mr. Gowan. Because I was a professional, I would provide the pen.
Chapter 7
Iwatched the guys on the field, just three of them now. Myles Pham, Eddie, and Ronan were out here again, but Ronald Stevenson had gone to visit family in Oklahoma. I had a feeling that he’d already decided not to participate in the Woodsmen tryout and this trip was his way of relaying that information to the other Junior Woodsmen without having to say it to their faces. But Pham was still all in and Ronan…
I wasn’t sure. He had definitely registered to try out, because I had sat next to him and watched him send in his information. But he wasn’t committing to actually showing up on the first day, which coincided with the Woodsmen team’s Fan Day at the stadium. Luckily for me, a bunch of different departments had needed help with their parts in organizing the huge event and Mr. Gowan had graciously told them that yes, he could spare me. My days went a lot faster when I was actually doing something and I’d met a lot more people. Once, I’d even been in Kiya’s department, which had been fun.
But this workout today wasn’t fun—it was serious. Even Eddie was getting really into it and raising his voice, and he was usually the most even-keeled person that I’d ever encountered. “Get it, Ronan! Get after it!” he called, and I found myself clapping as I watched the drill. That had looked very good to me, a lot of power and explosiveness in his get-off technique.
I could say things like that now without sounding as if I was totally full of it, because I’d been watching them practice for at least two months and I’d taken on the task of learning about football exactly like I’d approached calculus, physics, and American history: I had gone all in and now I knew a whole lot more about the sport. I planned to watch every Woodsmen game and I would understand exactly what was going on.
Or, if things didn’t work out, I would go to the Junior Woodsmen games when their season started a few months later. But I wasn’t really considering that as a possibility right now. Maybe Ronan was undecided about his future, but I wasn’t. I was sure about where he would be next season, and it was the beautiful, rat-free locker room at Woodsmen Stadium, the green, even turf that made up their field, and their pristine workout rooms with all the latest equipment.
Actually, that room here at the practice facility now had some of the latest equipment, too. It had all been delivered about a week before, which hadn’t given Ronan nearly enough time to benefit from it. He thought it was great, though, and had made a few remarks about how he and the guys would be able to use it next season.
The other guys would use it, I decided, and I was glad that I’d gotten it for them. But Ronan would be about forty-five minutes away from here, killing it with a different team. I clapped again as the three of them talked for a minute and then, as Ed and Myles Pham walked toward the building, Ronan joined me at the bleachers. Now that it was June, it was warmer than before but some of us were wearing more clothing than others. He had just removed his shirt but I would be keeping mine on.
“That was good,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a lot better out there now that the mud is drying. They’re going to have to regrade this whole field.” He talked more about how to fix the drainage problems but I hadn’t been discussing the conditions.
“You were good,” I clarified, and now he shrugged.
“I was all right.”
