Page 142 of The Cheerleader

No matter how positive Liz’s attitude is, she’s always on the edge of collapse into despair. I don’t think Susie has ever seen that line, the sharp one separating hope and despair, with the space above it where the limbo of resignation lives.

“I’ll call you next week, after the draft. Take care of yourself, Susie. I’ll be thinking about you.” Dreaming about you.

She says her good-bye, ending on a sigh. I hang up the phone, wondering where I stand between hope, despair, and the limbo of resignation.

On draft night, Eldy arrives with all his luggage and two cases of beer. He’s staying. Ten minutes later, Mack and Chuck come in with four pizzas. They’re back for the semester. No more solitude. I wait for the rub of irritation, but it doesn’t come.

We get the radio antenna set to where we can pick up the coverage of the draft in New York City, and we sit in the living room listening to it while eating pizza and guzzling beer. Or they do.

By the second round, I get up and pace around, eying the telephone like it might jump from the hook all by itself and talk to me. Harry said someone from the team would call before they announce their pick and that I should stick near the phone, keep the line clear.

“Pick number 34 is coming up next for the San Francisco 49ers, and there are a number of good choices at running back for them still on the board,” the announcer says. “It’s time for a word from our sponsor while they think it over.”

Eldy blows out a whistle. “This is it. This is your team, Bryan.” He moves to the edge of the couch, staring at the radio. Mack and Chuck stand.

I look accusingly at the phone. The advertisement for Michelin tires drones on. Eldy stands and gets another beer. “The suspense is fucking killing me.” He looks at me like he’s expecting me to admit that I’m tense as hell.

Stopping my pacing a foot away from the kitchen doorway near the phone, I bring the beer to my lips and tell myself to hold on to my shit.

Then the shrill ringing of the phone splits the air and my guts wide open.

I reach for it amidst the hooting and whistles of my friends, but I stop and glare at them for silence as it rings a second time.

“Answer the damn phone. We’ll keep quiet,” Eldy says, his hand squeezing Mack’s shoulder. I’m glad it’s not mine.

I pluck the phone’s receiver from the hook and put it to my ear. “Bryan Granger.”

“Congratulations, Bryan. This is …”

All the words jumble together and all I get is the essential message. I’ve been officially drafted by the fucking San Francisco 49ers.

I drink more than I ever have in one night with my friends and when I try to call Susie, there’s no answer at her house.

In the fog of my euphoria I remember she was visiting with her Aunt. I don’t have that number. And I can’t look it up in the phone book because don’t even know her Aunt’s last name or where she lives.

The next day Eldy goes food shopping. He says it’s to fill the cupboards, accusing me of losing weight. He comes back with a truckload of food.

“Who’s all this for?”

“We’re having a party to celebrate—don’t argue with me about it.”

“Fine.” There’s no one on campus to come to the party, so I’m not worried. “I have to make a call.” I pick up the receiver and dial.

“Calling home?” Eldy asks as he stocks the refrigerator with juice, milk, and Gatorade.

I nod and extend the cord around the corner into the hallway as I listen to the phone ring on the other end. Mom will answer. Dad’s out in the barn, and Wally’s in school.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Are you coming home?”

“No. I wanted to let you know that I got drafted by the San Francisco 49ers. They made me an offer to play for them. My agent is negotiating the deal now.”

“Good. That’s good.” She doesn’t sound enthusiastic, and I put it down to her knowing that means I won’t be home for a while. “You going to be all right?” she asks. “Are they paying you enough?”

“According to Harry—my agent, my rookie salary will be three to five times what the farm makes.”

“That’s good, Bryan.” She pauses. “San Francisco is far away. Will you get time off to come home?”