Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance (3 page)

“He's getting swollen,” Cory says admiringly. “He's up to two twenty now. I figure he'll hit two thirty before the end of school. I lift with him twice a week, but it's more like he and I lift in the same room. There's no way I'm keeping up with him nowadays. He's gonna tear it up down at Clement next year.”

“And you? Where are you going to go?” I ask. I'm having a fun
date
, and here I am talking about Cory most likely leaving town.

“Well . . . I haven't decided yet,” Cory answers, and the tension is cut when our appetizers arrive. “Oh good. Well, to Valentine's Day, Patricia. I hope this is a good one for you.”

I toast glasses with him and give him a smile. “Cory, this has been the best Valentine's Day I've ever had.”

* * *

“
N
o way
.”

I can't believe it. He and I are actually arguing over his going to the prom. “I'm serious, Cory. You need to find yourself a date for the prom. It's your senior prom, after all!”

The snows have stopped, but it's still a little chilly. Spring hasn't quite woken up here in the Northwest, although it's not too bad since the sun's shining today. We're sitting at the kitchen table, and for the first time in the four months that he's been coming over, he's being stubborn and mulish, his face dead-set against what I'm saying.

“I've thought a lot about this, and I decided. I'm not going to the prom. I've been to proms twice already, and the winter formals, and everything else. Only difference between the prom and the formal is that I have to fork over money for a tux instead of just wearing my suit.”

“Come on, Cory. I know what you're saying, but it's going to be the last big event for you in high school. You don't want to say you missed it.”

“There's nobody I want to take to the prom,” Cory protests. “I mean, if this is supposed to be some sort of special event, shouldn't I take someone special too? All the girls who might even be interesting already have boyfriends, or I'm just not interested in them. There's just nobody at school that I would want to go with.”

“Think about it. I didn't get to go to mine. I was so ashamed about being the pregnant girl who got dumped that I stayed home and missed the whole thing. There has to be someone.”

Cory looks down at the table, then nods. “Who?”

“If I had a choice . . .” Cory says, then looks up at me. “I know this sounds stupid, but if I had a choice, I'd ask you. You're the most interesting woman I know, and if I were to do a special dance with someone, well, I can’t think of anyone else. I know it's stupid, but it's how I feel.”

I'm knocked on my heels by the burning intensity in his eyes, and I wonder how I let it get this far. He works for me, and my daughter is his classmate! The thing is, though, I don't want to stop either. Instead, I nod and give him a sad smile. “I don't think the school would look on that too well.”

“Then I'm not going,” Cory insists, taking my hand. I shake my head, but I don’t let go of his hand.

“You still need to go, even if it's going stag,” I say softly, standing up. “If anything . . . I think Whitney would appreciate it if you and Troy were there together. He's going, right?”

Cory nods, considering the idea. “Fine. But I'm not going to dance with him.”

I laugh, our argument forgotten, and nod.

There's a pause between us, and I can read it in his eyes, so I break the silence before something happens that shouldn’t. “Come on. I've still got to teach you how to make real mac n' cheese instead of that stuff from a box, and we've still got to fold laundry.”

Cory looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he nods. “That sounds good. Think I can stay to sample my work, at least?”

“For sure.”

“
S
o how'd
you do on the trig final?” Dani asks me, leaning against her locker. By pure luck, we've gotten lockers nearly next to each other this year, even if it's only for a few more days.

“Oh, you know how it is, Harley,” I say with a shrug, making sure my backpack has what it needs. One more final tomorrow, history, and my academic days at Silver Lake High are done. “Shit happens.”

“Yeah . . . you know, I don't believe you're telling me the full story,” she says, turning her head to look at me directly. “Come on, Cory. I've gotta have some good news for the day. All things considered.”

I nod and close my locker, pulling my backpack over my shoulder. “I know it's weird. I thought the end of high school was supposed to be this happy time, but instead, it does seem a little sad, don't it? Then you and Pete go and tell all of us that you two are breaking up at lunch today . . . put it this way. I'm glad I only had to turn in my English comp paper this afternoon. You really know how to screw with a guy's head.”

Dani shrugs, holding her chemistry book to her chest as she and I walk down the hall together. “Pete and I talked about it, and it just seemed like the best thing to do. I mean, he's going into the Navy, and I'm going to go to State, and we're both too young to really try that whole long-distance relationship thing. We're still going to be friends, though. Speaking of State and the Navy, you haven't let anyone know what your plans are. Where's Cory Dunham raising hell next?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I haven't really decided yet. I got my choice though.”

Dani stops and pulls me into an empty classroom, which I see is the newspaper room. With the last issue out for the year except the graduation special, the room's empty as almost everyone streams out of SLHS for the end of the day. “Spill it, Cory. Since prom, you've been a guy with his mind on something besides school. First, the trig final?”

“No, I did okay with it,” I tell her, giving her a little smile. “Eighty-eight. I mean, I'm not going to set the world on fire with it, but I've sewn up an honor grad slot.”

“Is it money then?” Dani asks. “Last I knew, you wanted to go to that place in San Fran, right?”

I nod, then shake my head. “No, I've got that okay too. Their financial aid offer came through, and it's really generous. Just . . . I was thinking maybe State, like you, would be better.”

Dani looks at me like I'm crazy and tugs at her right ponytail in frustration. “You out of your damned mind, Cory? What, so you can be like a thousand other biz grads? All right, I haven't said anything since you like your privacy and all . . . but is it because of Patricia Nelson?”

The look I give Dani is all the answer she needs, and she shakes her head in disbelief. She crosses her arms under her boobs and looks down, muttering to herself. “The fuck did I do to deserve this? First Troy, now you. Fucking Nelsons . . .”

“Come on, Harley, it's not that bad,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, yeah, Troy and I went stag to the prom, and yeah, I didn't do much more than a couple of fun dances, but I'm nowhere near that dude's level. Besides, I thought Whit was your best friend?”

“She is, but you guys . . . no, you're right, you're not as bad as Troy . . . you, at least, aren't ready to be inducted into the priesthood,” Dani replies, then sighs. “I swear, you men and your bullshit are going to make me go into psychology for real. You know what you’ve gotta do, Cory. Talk to her. Notice I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I'm saying you need to talk to her.”

I nod and look up at the ceiling. “And if?”

Dani shakes her head. “You think I'm the person who should be giving you an answer on that, considering what Pete and I just did? Get outta here.”

I look at Dani and see that she's in pain too. I step closer and give her a friendly hug, and she hugs me back. She's the best female friend I've got, and we've never thought about going from friend to . . . friends. I'm going to miss seeing her crazy ass around. “Thanks, Harley. Well, I can take care of that tomorrow. For now, I've got a workout with Troy. Someone's gotta make sure that idiot doesn't injure himself before he even gets to Clement.”

“What's he up to now?” Dani says, forcing a smile as we go out into the hallway. “I mean his shirts look like they're about ready to Hulk out any second. Someone needs to get him some stretchy purple pants just to be sure.”

“I think he hit the two twenty-five goal. We already talked, and he's going to go down to Clement a week after graduation to get an early jump on summer ball for them, but I think he's ready. He's straight up Beast Mode all the time now. The record board down in the weight room looks more like the
Troy Wood Personal Best List
.”

“Well, you keep him safe,” Dani says with more emotion than I would have thought. Harley's good people, even if she does hide it behind a thick layer of sarcasm most of the time. “Do it for Whit, okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

“
Y
ou got
into Bay Area Consolidated. Congrats,” Patricia says as we hang the bedspread on the line outside. The spring weather is warm, a perfect day, really. It's only hard to do anything because of the storm still inside me, and I don't know how to talk about the subject. “Their financial aid package is good too. You never told me you had the grades to go with your investing brains too.”

“I don't normally let it get out,” I finally answer, reaching into the basket and pulling out the first of the sheets. “You know how high school is. If you're a jock, you're a jock. If you're a brain, you're a brain. The two should never meet. Especially if you're a guy.”

“True. And it's got to be easier being a dumb jerk jock than being a nice guy with a brain,” Patricia teases as we begin clipping the white sheet to the line. “How'd you keep up the deception so long?”

“By being an actual jerk most of the time,” I joke back, causing her to laugh. “But I'm not sure I should go.”

“What? You have got to be out of your mind!” Patricia exclaims, then stops when she sees my face. “Seriously . . . why would you pass up nearly a full ride to one of the best business schools on the West Coast? You told me yourself that if you do well there, you've got connections to the sorts of places that you're looking at trying to get into. You could write your own ticket to being a high-powered investment banker then.”

“But it's in San Fran . . . and that's a long way from here,” I say, trying to form the words that I want to say but can’t. “I . . . that isn't something I want.”

Patricia sets her clothespins down and comes around the wet sheet, coming next to me and looking me in the face. She sees what I'm trying to say, I can tell. “Oh, Cory . . . you're so sweet,” she says, reaching up and putting her cool hand against my burning cheek. “But I'm just your boss, the woman who's given you a part-time job. How's my money doing, anyway?”

“Up twenty percent,” I tell her, and she smiles. “But you're more than that. You know that.”

I can see that she wants to be upset with what I say, but her hand's still on my cheek, and I can feel the softness of her fingertips on my skin. “I know. It's my fault. I saw it starting, and I should have stopped it before it got this far. I should have stopped it at Valentine's Day.”

“Why? Why is it so bad that I think of you this way?” I ask, pained. “Why is it so damn wrong?”

“Because I'm twice your age,” Patricia says softly, ignoring my curse, then smiles sadly. “You may be mature for your age, but you’re still eighteen, with your entire adult future in front of you.”

I swallow and put my hand over hers. “Be honest. Tell me how you feel.”

She struggles, swallowing hard, then stands on her tiptoes. Her lips brush against mine, and her kiss is sweet, more tender than any I've ever had before, but it also breaks my heart because I see what's in her eyes when she lowers herself down. “I feel that someday, you're going to make some lucky woman very, very happy. And I feel that you can’t let yourself be hamstrung by me. I want you to go to Bay Area, get a great job, and make yourself into everything that you can be.”

I blink, making sure no tears pool in my eyes. “But you'll be here.”

She nods, then steps back, her hand slipping from my grasp to fall at her side. “I have to be. My life is here.”

I shake my head, hating what's happening. “I can't just leave things like this. I can't do what Whitney did. That's not fair, dammit!”

“Life often isn't fair,” Patricia says, then sighs. “This is stupid on my part. I should just cut you off totally—it'd be better for both of us. But maybe I'm being greedy now too. Let me go get my card. It has my email, and you already have my cellphone. We can stay in touch.”

I stay still while she comes back and tucks the card into my back pocket. “I'll always remember Valentine’s Day,” she tells me softly. There’s a little pause, then she speaks up again. “Thank you for your help around the house, Cory Dunham, but I think that it would be best for both of us if we ended our work arrangement. I'll mail you your last month's paycheck. I don’t have the cash on me right now.”

I want to protest, but I don’t. Instead, I swallow and nod. “Thank you for everything you've taught me, Patricia. I'll never forget it.”

* * *

I
t's hot
, the sun beating down from a clear blue sky as the graduating class for Silver Lake High School sweats in our royal blue nylon robes. I feel like an idiot standing here in a shirt and tie underneath my robe. I mean, you can barely see the tie at all unless you get up close. I don't think Mom or Dad would really be all that upset if I'd just gone with a t-shirt under my robe for the photographs I know Mom's going to snap away with her camera. Even Dad wouldn't mind, and I know he put in plenty of sweaty parades as a Marine in those sharp dress blues he still has hanging in the closet.

Troy notices my discomfort and comes over. There are still ten minutes before we start marching, and as one of the honor graduates, I'm in the front of the group. Troy's also up front, not so much as an academic honors graduate but for his athletic awards. “You doing all right, man? You're looking a little worn out.”

“Sweating my balls off is how I'm doing,” I grumble, wiping my forehead. “Why the fuck did I get dressed up underneath the robe?”

“You want to start being a banker early,” Troy jokes, taking a look up at the stands behind us. It's only ten in the morning, but it's already scorching hot, and I wish our stadium had a way for us to hang out underneath the bleachers. Troy watches the parents make their way up the steps on the home side of the field, then laughs. “You remember the game against Blueridge back in August?”

“Of course. If I remember right, we tore the hell outta those guys. What was the score?”

“Too much to not enough,” Troy says with a chuckle, shrugging. “I'm just glad we had the too much. But I was thinking about after, when Russ took off his pads. I have never seen someone literally sweat blood before.”

I remember the pink stain on Russ's shirt scaring the hell out of all of us until we realized he'd busted out some acne that had been bugging his left shoulder since summer. I laugh, thinking about the shit we gave him after that one. “God, who was it that gave him a maxi pad for the next game anyway?”

“Hell if I know,” Troy says. “I remember when I told Whit . . . well, never mind. I guess that's the past now, ain't it?”

I pat my friend on the shoulder, nodding. “If it helps any, I think I really understand now how you feel.”

Troy gives me a sympathetic look, knowing how hard it is to talk about the one thing we've never discussed in the past six months. “Grapevine said something like that. Thanks for not bringing it up.”

“No worries. You want to thank me, you let me do your investing when you sign that fat League contract. I’ll collect my trader's commission on the millions you should be getting.”

Troy nods, all serious. “You're goddamned right I will. I promise you, Cory, if you make it through BAC, I'll be calling you to set up my accounts.”

There's a squawk of sound from the stadium PA system, and Coach Jackson, who's riding herd on the senior class for the procession, blows his whistle. “All right, Senior Foxes, it's time!”