He held out a pen. “Write.”
We spent the rest of the morning sending off emails to my deans and professors, creating a list of everything I could remember from my room, filling out the renter’s insurance paperwork, setting up LJ’s laptop for me to use, and going through his clothes to find at least a few things for me to wear. My emergency passport application appointment was in two days. I’d have to go back to Moorestown to get a copy of my birth certificate. Strangling myself with one of those velvet ropes they set out in front of art at the museum held more appeal.
By early afternoon, my brain was Swiss cheese.
“And your wallet. We’ll need to replace all your cards. The campus ID card will be easy, but your driver’s license and credit card will take some time.” He’d bribed me with the promise of lemonade, which was the only thing that could have gotten me out of the bedroom.
I dropped my head to the kitchen table, banging it against the wood a few times. “Enough. Enough for today. I can’t take anymore.” Tilting my head to the side I peered up at him.
His face softened and he slid the papers he’d been flipping through back into the folder he’d scrounged up to keep everything in one place. “How about we get some ice cream?”
My head perked up. “Ice cream?”
“My treat.”
“It would have to be, since the fourteen bucks I had are now burnt to a crisp.”
We walked to T-Sweets, one of the busiest spots off campus with killer sundaes, hand-dipped ice cream, and, for people with no taste, soft serve. I got more than a few curious looks.
Usually girls didn’t look like this in the mid-afternoon. This was more of an early-morning-walk-of-shame look, if the guy was nice enough to let you borrow some clothes.
LJ’s black sweats were rolled at the ankles, even though he never felt that much taller than me. We were almost the same height, but somehow the laws of men’s sweatpants didn’t apply to women, and there was rolling involved.
His Batman t-shirt wasn’t as baggy as I’d have liked. Being a double D did wonders for filling out a guy’s XL t-shirt, not that anyone would be able to see it, since I didn’t exactly have a bra. I kept his hoodie zipped up high and walked with my arms propping up the girls—I looked like I was smuggling two puppies under the sweatshirt.
At least it was cool out, still not in full-on spring mode, so that part of how I was dressed didn’t get me too many glances. The real issue was the oversized guys’ clothes and flip flops that kept shooting two steps ahead of me every couple of blocks.
“Why are your feet so big?” I grumbled, chasing after wayward foam and plastic.
“Pot, meet kettle. You’ve got some boats there too.”
We made it to T-Sweets and found the usual line sticking out the front door. The five tables inside were taken. The crowd’s eyes lit up when they spotted LJ.
I smiled as he ducked his head.
The attention always made the tips of his ears go red. Every step closer, more questions spilled out from people around us.
“LJ, where do you think you’ll play after next year?”
“Ready for another championship?”
He put on his press-conference smile that hid his internal screams for escape, and replied like he had the answers written on the backs of his eyelids.
“Are you guys worried about this season with so many seniors leaving?”
I shoved my hand into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet. “I’ll order for us.”
“How do you know what I want?”
Waving the wallet, I joined the line, abandoning him to his adoring fans. It was always a chocolate and vanilla swirl with rainbow and chocolate jimmies. Always.
He’d stand and stare at the menu, waiting for the line to move, and then he’d get to the counter and order the same thing every time.
The line moved quickly and I glanced out the window. In jeans slung low on his hips and a t-shirt that highlighted every sinewy muscle, he held court amongst the picnic tables in front of the shop.
He hated the attention. It made him want to go full turtle and crawl inside his shell.
I loved it. I loved watching him get the attention he deserved after the amount of work he put in on the field. I loved how he got so nervous in front of everyone, even though when we walked back with our ice cream, he’d remember every question they’d asked and how great it felt to sign an autograph or two.
He felt like he didn’t belong in the limelight, but he did. He was the best person I knew. Too bad he didn’t feel even half of what I felt for him.
3
Marisa
Senior Year - High School
“I thought you were coming home tonight?” I shuffled down the stairs with my phone cradled against my shoulder and a death grip on the banister. The wood creaked under my sock-covered feet.
“This is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
“Since when is Atlantic City a once-in-a-lifetime trip?” I winced. My hips ached. The bruises were intense. It was a small price to pay, but I needed some painkillers.
“Since I’m not paying and Frank is a high roller, so we’re staying in a Presidential Suite.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?”
“Why don’t you go to LJ’s house? It’s where you’re always running off to anyway. Or call your father. Sorry, I forgot. He ran off to god knows where and didn’t look back.”
I gritted my teeth, steering her back to the only shitty parent currently speaking to me—her, and away from the only people I could count on.
“I’m not there that much.” I made sure to never be there more than a few times a week during the school year, and I only slept over once every two weeks. During the summer, I let myself bump it up to weekly sleepovers and four days hanging out.
Overstaying my welcome wasn’t something I ever wanted to do with LJ’s family. I felt like I’d already overstayed my welcome with my own mother.
“It’s not my fault your father decided he’d rather run off with all his extra special sport’s groupies and leave us to make due. All those promises to send birthday money or Christmas presents and we’ve never heard a peep.”
Another reminder and comparison, which wasn’t helping my stomach trying to eat itself.
“The doctor said I should take it easy for a few days.” Plus, LJ’s whole family was still at the hospital after the bone marrow donation the day before yesterday. They’d been in Charlie’s room taking shifts since the chemo had started.
“You looked fine to me two days ago. And shouldn’t his family be taking care of you? They owe you after what you did. God knows, we’re not getting child support from your father. They could throw us a bone.”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose and attempted to pace around my room before giving up. Everything out of her mouth was always about how shitty everyone else was—trust me there was more than enough to go around between her and my dad, but I needed someone here. Now. I pulled my shorts away from my hips. The bruises made me look like I’d owed some bookies money, but they were yellowing. Still sore, though. “I did it because it was the right thing to do. We’ve known their family since I was in the third grade. They don’t owe me anything.” If anything, I owed them.