Joe Football Page 4

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffs as she pulls away.

  “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I just… I’m just not ready yet. He caught me off guard,” she sobs.

  “How do you know Wayne Anderson?” I question.

  “I can’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” She takes a few steps backward and drags my heart with her.

  “Okay. We don’t need to talk about it.” I hold my hand out to her. For each moment she stares at my outstretched hand, it brings me closer to begging her to take it. The pleading words are at the tip of my tongue when she finally takes my hand, only to drop it when she hears her name.

  “Favor.” Jameson yells, jogging over to us. His eyes rake over her quickly, assessing the situation. “What the fuck did you do to her?” he growls out, stepping towards me. I place Favor behind me, shielding her.

  “I didn’t do anything to her, shithead.” The anger building in me burns hotter than the sun.

  “Why the fuck is she crying?” He tries to look around me at Favor, but I block him.

  “None of your fucking business.” My tone is flat.

  “It is my business,” he snarls, trying to make another attempt to go around me.

  “Jameson. Stop. Brice didn’t do anything wrong. He was helping me.” Favor steps around me.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Wayne,” is all she says, and what appears to be a knowing look passes between them.

  “I told that motherfucker to stay away from you. I’ll fucking kill him.”

  “Leave it alone.“ She shakes her head.

  “Come on, I’ll take you back to your dorm,” Jameson says to her, holding out his hand.

  I stand there, watching and counting the seconds like a goddamn idiot, wondering if she will hesitate to take his hand the way she did with me just moments ago.

  Without hesitation, she takes his hand, effectively throwing my heart in my face.

  She turns to look at me. “Thank you, Brice.” And she goes off with my arch nemesis. What the fuck just happened?

  Chapter 5

  Favor

  I wake up the next morning with Jameson’s arm draped around me. It feels so wrong to be here with him. I hadn’t planned on ending up in bed with him again, but after seeing Wayne, it just happened. It always just happens with us. This has been our MO, ever since my brother’s funeral.

  Me, so numb after Trevor’s death, fell into Jameson’s waiting arms. It all started when he offered his shoulder to cry on, and then I gave my virginity to the person who least deserved it. I had always thought my first time would be with a man I loved, not with a man who can only love himself.

  I promised myself months ago to get off this hamster wheel, and here I am, right back on it. Still running around, not going anywhere.

  I watch his chest rise and fall and wonder to myself, What am I doing here? I turn away as my thoughts drift to Brice. He was there for me when he didn’t have to be, and I pushed him away. The look in his eyes when I took Jameson’s hand hurt me more than I expected.

  “You’re awake.” Long gone is Jana’s usual bubbly voice, replaced with disappointment. I’m familiar with that tone since it’s often directed at me from my parents. But I have to say, this is the first time Jana has been disappointed in me. She sits cross-legged on her bed, waiting for my response.

  I move Jameson’s arm gently, so I don’t wake him and sit up to face the music. I avert my eyes, my chin dipping to my chest. I search my brain for a response to make this all better, but I come up empty.

  “Favor, I love you. You’re one of my closest friends in the world.”

  I grimace at her words, unsure where this is going.

  “That’s why I’m going to be honest with you. This has got to stop. You’re only hurting yourself more each time you sleep with him. He’s taking advantage because he knows you’re weak. The only thing that binds the two of you is the fact that you hold on to Trevor’s death. You refuse to move forward and live a life that you deserve. Favor, it’s okay that you are alive. Being happy is okay. You have to let yourself heal.”

  I begin to shake uncontrollably. A moan that started out small turns into a roar. Jana is instantly by my side and holds me in her arms.

  “Wh-what happened?” Jameson asks with a start.

  “Nothing. Leave.” Jana, who is the kindest person I know, pointedly tells him he is not welcome here.

  “But I should be here for her.”

  She lets go of me and stands up with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Why? So you can convince her to sleep with you again? You selfish bastard. I told you to leave, and if you don’t, I’ll get security.”

  “Favor? Do you want me to go?”

  She angles her body so he can’t look at me. “I’m speaking to you. I live here as well, and I’m telling you that I don’t want you here.”

  The bed shifts as Jameson curses under his breath and searches for his clothes on the floor. Silently he gets dressed, and leaves without a word. The close of the door feels like the close on another chapter of my life.

  “T-today is the anniversary.” An overwhelming rush of emotions comes to the forefront, breaking through my barriers and opening up the floodgates. A feeling, as if I was freefalling toward a rapid approach to the ground, comes over me. Will I survive?

  Taking me into her arms, Jana strokes my back, healing my soul. “I know, and I’m here for you,” she says into my hair, kissing the top of my head. Her tears fall down my forehead, cleansing away my demons.

  “I have to be with him today.” I’ve visited my brother's grave every year on the anniversary of his death for three years.

  Hugging me tighter she says, “I’ll come with you.”

  My body tenses. Sensing something is wrong, she pulls back and stares at me. “I need to do this on my own.”

  She contemplates my words before nodding her approval. “Call me if you need me.”

  Rising, I wipe away the tears. “I will. I promise.”

  Silently, I gather up my things to take a shower so I can begin my torturous journey. I have a date with my brother.

  ****

  A few hours later, I arrive at the cemetery. The scent of the white lilies that I picked up surrounds the small space of my car. It smells like spring in the midst of death. I stare at my brother's tombstone a few feet ahead. Steeling my nerves, I open the car door and step outside into the Indian summer with the flowers in my hand. Memories of sitting in the church watching his illy-draped casket being carried off by the pallbearers hit me. I stop, so overcome by the memory of that day. I inhale deeply and close my eyes. The smell of freshly cut grass wafts up to my nose, triggering yet another recollection for me, this one a happy one. One of my brother and I running around our backyard. Him chasing me with a garter snake. I tripped and fell on the freshly cut lawn. Grass clippings clung to me, making me look furry and green. I laugh out loud at the memory, and this laugh comes from deep within my soul. A burden I’ve carried for years feels just a bit lighter in the moment of this laugh. But just as quickly as the burden lightens, guilt settles back in, taking root again. I throw my head back in despair and stare heavenward. The sun's rays beam down on me, cloaking me in its warmth and light. Is it showing me the path out of the fog of grief?

  My feet feels like lead as I walk towards his grave. My heart is so heavy, and I begin to cry before I even get there. Kneeling down on the dew-covered grass, I see a fresh bouquet of lilies, most likely from my parents, laid in front of the stone. Placing my flowers next to it, I sit cross-legged on the ground, much like the way I used to do when we were kids. Me, sitting on the floor, happily watching him act out parts of a story he was telling me.

  “Hey, Terror Trev. Just wanted to be here with you today,” I begin, but choke up. A lump forms in my throat, and I try desperately to swallow it back down. My eyes start to blur as warm tears fall down my cheeks. I wipe feverishly at them, wishing I could close t
he floodgates that have come crashing down around me. I concentrate on my breathing to steady my emotions. Breathe in, one-two-three, breathe out, one-two-three. I remain like this until I’m finally able to continue. “I miss you so much, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. I miss our talks and how you always knew the right things to say to make me feel better.”

  I lean my head on the cold stone, wishing it was my brother's shoulder. A shoulder I’d often cried on and sought comfort. “I met a guy, big brother. I like him. I mean, a lot. The problem is, he’s the quarterback for the Cougars. I look at him, and I see you, and it makes me miss you more.” Pressing my cheek against the stone, I close my eyes and let out a chuckle. “Plus, the fact that I hate football. Am I dramatic? I know you’d say I'm a drama queen.”

  Happiness fills me as flashes of a memory of my brother teasing me goes through my head when, just as quickly, a darker one replaces it. I’m back in that moment at the cafeteria yesterday when Wayne approached my table. My heart and limbs feel heavy, and breathing seems like I’m getting air through a straw. “Wayne contacted me yesterday. I-I just couldn’t handle it. How am I supposed to forgive him? How can I move forward without you?”

  I begin to sob into my hands, before leaning my head on the cold stone with my brother’s name etched into it. “It’s hard, you see. I don’t have the strength like you did. You were always my rock. During lunch yesterday, he came to me. I don’t understand what he wants from me when he has taken you away. If it is forgiveness he is looking for, I don’t think I’m able to give it. Because I don’t forgive him. How can I? If I forgave him, I’d feel as if I’m betraying you.” I cry harder into the stone. Placing both arms around it, as if I’m hugging my brother, knowing I won’t ever feel his embrace again.

  “Favor.” I hear a voice that I once used to welcome, but have grown to despise.

  I whip my head around towards the voice behind me. I see Wayne, or at least a broken version of him. Eyes that were once full of life and mischief are red-rimmed and hollow with sorrow. A posture that would stand tall at his six foot one-inch stature now slouches and gives the appearance of trying to disappear before your eyes. The scar under his eye a constant reminder of the night he made a careless mistake. His dark brown hair hangs loosely around his shoulders, unkempt and oily.

  Regret hits me instantly, only to be replaced with anger.

  I stand up abruptly, stumbling as I do so. “I – I can’t do this.” I walk in the direction of my car.

  “Favor. Please wait,” Wayne calls out to me, his voice raw with emotion.

  I stop. My blood runs cold as I turn around to face him. “What?”

  “I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I need your family’s forgiveness. I loved him like a brother. I miss him every single day,” he cries. He looks like a broken man…but I don’t care.

  “No. You don’t get off that easy. My brother was cheated. I was cheated. My family was cheated, all because you were reckless and careless.” I turn around and head towards my car again.

  “Please, Favor. I beg you. I’m drowning here,” he pleads with me further, but I‘m unable to give him what he needs. What about my needs? What about what my brother needed that night? This is too much.

  “I DON’T CARE.” I scream out without a backward glance.

  This is too much. Not today, of all days. I can’t handle this. I reach my car, but don’t have the energy to open the door. Propping my arms on the roof, I lean my head in the crook of my arms and cry. My body shudders with grief, and I feel like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

  “Favor?”

  I hold my hand out behind me. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  “Do you need something?”

  I spin around in a fury. “My brother. Can you bring my brother back?”

  We stand, staring at each other. If this were a western, it would have looked like we would be drawing guns at noon. He looks away, his Adam's apple moving as he swallows. I take this opportunity to jump in my car. I lock my doors in hopes of locking away the bad memories. Perhaps I locked them in with me instead? My trembling hand lifts to press the ignition button while staring out the window, looking at Wayne one last time. He has collapsed to the ground, holding his head in the palm of his hands. For a moment, I debate if I should go to him, but I push that feeling aside and shift the car into gear, driving off.

  I drive a few miles, but have to pull to the side of the road. Outside my car, I collapse to the ground, and begin to vomit. My body racks with dry heaves. I gasp for breath and, for a moment, I think I’m going to pass out and die. The fear of death doesn’t scare me because I have nothing to live for. I used to, but he is gone now. Lying on the ground next to a pool of my vomit, my eyes slowly drift close.

  A bird chirping brings me out of the spell. I open my eyes to see a sparrow standing near me, beckoning me back to reality. With a strength I wasn’t aware I had, I stand and dust myself off. The sparrow remains in his perch state, staring at me, giving me his strength just by his mere presence. Holding on to the car door, I give the bird one last look before getting back inside my car. Starting the ignition, I drive off towards the direction I never expected to go; my parents’ house. The place that’s home in the physical sense, but I’ve never felt a part of.

  An hour later, I’m pulling into my parents’ winding driveway. My mother opens the door and stands outside, waiting for me as I walk towards the house.

  “Favor? What are you doing here?” Her hazel eyes look at me with a disapproving stare as usual.

  The door is open but feels as if it's been slammed in my face. “I need a reason to come?”

  “No honey. It’s just...well. Favor, I don’t know. Everything I ever say to you seems to be wrong, and I never know how to speak to you anymore.” My mother nervously pats her grayish black hair, as if a strand would dare be out of place.

  Funny, I feel the same way. “I went to Trevor’s grave today. I saw the flowers that you and dad left...” My voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Yes. Your father and I went this morning. I guess if we’d known you’d wanted to go, we would’ve waited for you,” my mother says as she walks towards the kitchen with me following behind. In this moment, it shows the hierarchy of our relationship. She, always ahead, and me trailing.

  Standing by the kitchen island, she has the beginnings of a mixture of what looks like will be my brother’s favorite chocolate chip cookies.

  “I go every year. You know that. He was my brother. Of course, I would go.” Unwittingly, my tone went from casual to snarky. The house is warm, yet I feel cold.

  She begins mixing the dough, measuring out some vanilla to pour in. Pausing what she’s doing, she looks up at me. “I know that he was your brother. He was my son. Your father and I have asked you to join us in the past when we’d go to his grave, but you never wanted to go with us before. You’re not the only one who is suffering. You never actually share your plans with your father and I. We pay for your college education, but haven’t any idea of what is going on with you.” She wipes her hands on her apron.

  “You never took an interest in anything I did before. Your only interest was Trevor, never me. It was always him.” Here we go. This old argument again. Why am I here? What was I thinking?

  “How dare you. Don’t you dare come in this house, on this day of all days, and talk to me like that. I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you, but we obviously did. If you can’t be civil then, you need to leave.” My mother pounds her fists on the island. “Not on this day. Leave, please leave.” My mom whispers those last words, her head hanging down.

  I stare at my mother for long moments, frozen. How long did we last this time before we got into an argument? Five minutes? That has got to be a record for us. I would’ve given us at least ten minutes, tops. It hurts that today we can’t bond as a family who is grieving. I take one last look at my mother, then turn to leave. I am startled to see m
y father standing in the vestibule, looking at us from afar. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears. He has the appearance of looking through me, though, and not at me. Jutting my chin out, I walk past him and leave my parents’ house to head back to campus where I belong.

  Chapter 6

  Favor

  “Come on, Favor, you gotta go,” Jana complains, for the umpteenth time.

  “I don’t feel like hanging out tonight. I’ve had a long week,” I groan, as I lay across my bed. Jana and Cal have been nagging me for the past hour, trying to convince me to go out to the club with them. Egon gave us tickets to watch his band play tonight.

  “Come on, the hottie Brice will be there. Don’t even act like you don’t want to see him. The two of you have crazy chemistry,” Cal says.

  I hadn't seen Brice since earlier this week when he ran after me. I cringe inwardly as I remember that day and how I ended up in bed with Jameson. I would like to see Brice again, actually. “Okay, fine. Give me a minute to change, ‘kay?”

  “You got it.” Jana bounces up and down, clapping her hands.

  “Oh no, honey, I’m picking this outfit out for you. You need to look smoking hot tonight.” Cal begins rummaging through the closet.

  “What for?” I ask, standing behind him.

  “Because, girlfriend, Brice will be there, duh,” he says as he grabs a pair of my designer skin tight jeans that I forgot I had, and a halter top. He thrusts the clothes at me. “Here. Wear this.”

  I frown at the clothes, especially the too-tight jeans. “I won’t be able to breathe in these.”

  “What do we say, it’s better to look good than to feel good. Now hurry up, or we’re going to be late.” Cal shoos me away.

  Dressing quickly, so I don’t incur the wrath of Cal, I look in the mirror, and he is right. I do look hot. I allow my hair to flow loosely around my shoulders. No makeup tonight for me, just some lip gloss. “Okay, I’m ready.”