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"Do you want to talk about it?"
she asked.

"I think so, but I'm not sure I'm
ready. I'll be here for a week, let me process it a little more and then I
promise I'll talk to you about it."

Charity let it go at that for that day. I
knew that a day of reckoning was in my near future, though.

~~~

I managed to put off my heart-to-heart talk
with Charity until Friday. That afternoon, she found me just as I had put Grace
down for her nap.

"Come with me," she said, in a
tone that brooked no objection. She led me back to her bedroom suite, and
closed the door. Little Jack was asleep in his bassinet, so I knew that there
would be no raised voices. It was as good a time as any to come clean to Charity.

"You promised to talk to me," she
accused.

"I did, and I'm sorry that I haven't
come to you before. It's just such a freaking mess that I didn't know where to
start. So, I guess I'll start at the beginning. I've already told you, haven't
I, that I slept with my first semester English professor?" Charity nodded,
but her lips thinned as they pressed together in disapproval.

"I know, you were right and Ri was
right when you both told me not to do it. My only excuse was that… Well, I
guess I don't have an excuse. I did it. I regretted it later. But, then I did
something really wicked. Charity, I'm an evil person."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head,
but I held my hand up to stop her protest.

"No, I am. You don't know what I've
done. All the time I was seeing Drew, I still had the hots for Justin. At the
same time, I was attracted to Drew as well. So, I flirted with him, and did my
best to get him to sleep with me. Please, don't interrupt, Charity, if I don't
get this out now I may lose my courage. Drew told me several times that he
wanted me, but that he needed to remain celibate during the basketball season.
I knew that, but even so, when I went to California for Valentine's Day weekend
with him, I manipulated him into some sexual behavior."

"I'm sorry, Janey, I know that you
didn't want any interruptions, but I have to ask what you mean by sexual
behavior."

"We didn't actually have sex," I
said, "but, only because neither of us had a condom. We got each other off
orally."

"Oral sex is sex," Charity
stated. With her matter-of-fact statement came my realization that I had
justified myself with a specious argument. Former president Clinton was still
satirized for making the same argument.

"You are right," I admitted.
"But that's still not the worst of it. He said that L word, and I freaked
out. It just hit me so hard, Charity. All I wanted was a physical release. I
didn't want him to love me, and I didn't know what to do. I panicked, and made
him leave. Then I wouldn't speak to him for several days."

"So, you're speaking now? Everything's
okay?"

"No, were still not at the end of the
story. I slept with Justin again." Charity's open-mouthed look of astonishment
stabbed me in the heart. Now she knew just how depraved and evil I was. I
wouldn't blame her if she told Russ to kick me out and never speak to me again.

"So, I finally knew I had to confess
it to Drew, because he still wanted more from me than I could give him. I
thought that would be the end of our friendship, and for a couple of days it
was. You have to understand that all of this has happened in the last three
weeks. It just wouldn't stop. About a week after I spent the night with Justin,
he came to confront me in the Student Union about the rumors that were
surfacing, and we got in this big fight, with half of the campus watching. He
said some ugly things to me, unfair things. All of a sudden Drew showed up and
almost punched him out."

By now, Charity had placed both hands over
her mouth, whether to stop herself from speaking or hide the face she was
making, I didn't know. I had only one or two last things to say to her, and
then the whole, miserable story would be finished.

"Drew got suspended from the team for
at least two games, away games. I don't know whether he played on Wednesday at
home. Justin was suspended for the rest of the semester without pay, and I
don't know what will happen when I get back to campus. He threatened me, said I
would be sorry if it went that way. So, now you know. I'm an evil,
career-busting Jezebel. If it weren't for the fact that it would be wasting
Russ's money, I wouldn't go back now. I don't know how I'll hold my head
up."

Charity's breath whooshed out of her, as if
she had been holding it for quite a while. "I can see your point,"
she said. "But, honey, running away will never be the answer." Ironic
words from a woman who ran away from Russ because she couldn't face him knowing
that she was pregnant only a few weeks after they met. I raised my eyebrows,
signaling what I was thinking.

She went on. "I know what you're
thinking, but just because I did it doesn't mean it was right. It wasn't the
answer. It just gave me breathing room. I've regretted the pain it caused Russ
ever since. Please don't make the same mistake. Do you have any feelings at all
for Drew?"

"I honestly don't know. Sometimes I
think I do, and other times I think I was just using him. It wouldn't be fair
to him to let him think so. I did and do value his friendship. If we can be
friends, I'd like that."

"What about Justin?"

"I know now that Justin was a childish
crush, and that his taking advantage of it was completely inappropriate. I can
still look at him and think objectively that he's beautiful, but I'm almost
certain that I'll never again be taken in by that. He's ugly inside, and I'm
done with him."

"You've learned a hard lesson,
honey," she said. "But don't let it drive you out of school. You have
as much right to be there as anyone, and who cares if they talk. Everyone has
secrets, and you're going to find that the next one to be revealed will take
the attention off of you and put it on some other poor girl, who doesn't
deserve the notoriety either."

"Well, I can tell you that I won't be
dating between now and the end of the semester. I've learned my lesson."

"Famous last words," she said,
with a laugh. "I won't make you eat them when you find someone else you're
attracted to. It's a natural part of life that you've missed so far, and that you
should have a chance to enjoy."

"No, remember, Charity, I'm evil. I
don't deserve that chance, I don't deserve a decent man and I won't put Grace
through the pain of her mom being with a man who isn’t decent. I'm swearing off
men altogether."

Charity's momentary humor disappeared with
my words. Her brow knitted, but she thought for a moment before she answered.

"Janey, you may not believe me now,
but mark my words. You are not evil, and you do deserve a life. A couple of
mistakes, even if they've had serious consequences, do not make you evil. I'm
glad you're done with Justin; he was far too old for you. I wish you’d give Drew
a chance. He sounds like a very decent young man, and if he can forgive you,
you shouldn't throw that in his face by not forgiving yourself."

~~~

As I drove back to Salt Lake on Sunday, I
reflected on my conversation with Charity. I'd had a wonderful week except for
that. Spending so much time with Grace showed me just how special a child she
was. Sweet, cuddly and independent by turns, she was so smart it scared me. I
knew that, whatever else I decided, the next six weeks would be the last I
would spend without my daughter.

As for dating, I decided I simply wouldn't.
I didn't need the distraction, and despite Charity’s assertion, I didn't feel
that I deserved anyone I'd want. If Drew wanted to be friends, I would simply
have to make him understand that friendship was all it could be. Rihanna was
another problem. Though we'd mended our fences, I knew it was because I wanted
to help Drew stay on the basketball team, and have his shot at the NBA. My
friendship with her felt like it depended on how Drew felt, and whether she
thought I was being unfair to him. I couldn't let that influence me. If
friendship with Ri meant that I'd have to deceive Drew, I just couldn't be
friends with her either.

By the time I reached Salt Lake, I felt I
had my immediate future planned as well as I could. I had no control over
whether my life was still an object of talk on campus; therefore, I would ignore
it. No dating, no nonsense and no drama was my goal from now ‘til the end of
the semester. I would focus on seeing Gracie again at the end of April, and
learning new skills under Russ's tutelage.

Andrew Craig was an angry man. It seemed
that from being on top of the world in mid-February, by mid-March his life had
been turned upside down. Suspended for two games after his near-assault on Dr.
Justin Mackey, he comforted himself that at least Janey wouldn't be seeing that
bastard anymore. With everyone else off campus for Spring Break, his team
played a poorly attended home game against Arizona State. It was only because
of Mackey's decision not to press charges for the assault that Coach had agreed
to allow him to play in the last regular season game of the year.

Fortunately, that game was a win, barely
squeaking the team into regional championship contention. It remained to be
seen whether they could overcome their inability to win away from home long
enough to attract NBA scouts to their playoff games, assuming they made it past
the first couple of rounds. Andrew had intended to finish his degree before
opting for the draft, but with his scholarship in jeopardy, he felt he might
not have a choice. So, it was particularly maddening that his performance
suffered during the final game. He blamed the distraction. And ,the distraction
was Janey.

With March Madness upon them, the team
needed Andrew at his best. However, Andrew was tortured by memories of a naked
Janey with her lips wrapped around his manhood. Even worse, he pictured her in
the same position with Justin Mackey. That image could not be dispelled with
less than a pint of vodka. Even though it broke team rules, he had consumed
enough vodka every night since Janey's confession to send him into an uneasy,
restless sleep. If anyone ever suspected that he was drunk when he took that
swing at Mackey, it would be all over. Scholarship, poof! Basketball team,
poof! NBA hopes, poof!

Fortunately, the last week had at least
been Spring Break, so that he didn't have to worry about classes. On this third
week of March, though, classes resumed without Andrew's presence. By noon,
Andrew's teammates had noticed that he wasn't in class. His friend and teammate
Greg was dispatched to his dorm room to see if he was sick. He was, but with
flu from a bottle. Greg was aghast.

"Drew, tell me you aren't drunk,
please!"

"Okay, I'm not drunk," Andrew
answered, with a moan at being awakened, and a slight slur in his speech.

"Jesus Christ, Drew! If Coach knew about
this, he'd kick you off the team for good."

"Are you going to tell him?" Drew
mumbled.

"No, man, we need you. But, seriously,
you've got to get out of this bed and get to class. Come on, I'll help you get
in the shower."

"Get off, prick. I can get in the damn
shower by myself. Okay I'll be in class this afternoon, just get out."

Greg knew better than to take Drew's
insults personally. That ball-busting Janey Nielsen was Drew's problem. He left
the room, but waited in the hallway to make sure his friend would get up. A
more subdued Drew greeted him without comment once he was showered and dressed.
Together, they walked to a nearby sandwich shop for lunch, before returning to
campus for afternoon classes.

Despite still needing a quantity of alcohol
to get to sleep that night, Drew managed to get to all of his classes the next
day, mostly because he didn't have any before noon. Greg examined him anxiously
for signs that he had been drinking, noting that Drew's eyes were a little
bloodshot.

"Hey, you need to cut that out. Don't
let that cunt knock you out of the game."

Drew stopped abruptly, and whirled on his
friend, both hands fisting involuntarily. "I'll let it go this time,
because you didn't know. But if you ever use that word to describe Janey again,
I'll knock you from here to next Sunday."

Greg held up both hands in a conciliatory
gesture. "Okay, man, I didn't mean anything."

Both of them knew that was a lie. Greg was
almost as bitter as Drew's friend Rihanna. Not that she wasn't a bitch, too,
but at least she hadn't led him on. She had thanked him politely for dinner on
Valentine's Day, before telling him that he didn't need to see her back to the
hotel. Greg had known that she was about to hook up with a complete stranger,
but she didn't taunt him with it or lie about it.

Basketball practice that afternoon focused
on training films, as the team would face an opponent they hadn't met during
the season. Andrew nodded off to sleep, but his soft snores prompted Greg to
elbow him awake before Coach noticed. Greg decided that something had to be
done. Andrew couldn't be trusted to leave the booze alone, and it wasn't only
his NBA career on the line, but everyone else's on the team who had those
aspirations. In the locker room, he spoke in low tones to everyone he knew was
friendly toward Drew. With their first tournament game on the line the next
day, he was planning an intervention that night.

Greg and four teammates knocked on Andrew's
door at 9 p.m. "Who is it?" came the surly challenge from inside.

"It's Greg, man. Let me in."

"If you're here to bitch at me, just
go away," Andrew said.

"I'm not here to bitch at you."

"Fuck it. It's open."

Greg opened the door, and before Andrew
could react to the unexpected crowd with him, they all rushed in. Two of them seized
Andrew by the arms, jerked him out of bed and pushed him roughly into the desk
chair.

"What is this?" Andrew demanded,
beginning to turn red.

"It's an intervention, jackass,"
one of his other teammates answered. "Are we going to have to tie you into
the chair?"

"Suck my dick," he snarled,
"I don't need a damn intervention."

"There's where you're wrong, my
friend." The brawny teammates holding him down parted to reveal the team
mascot, a mild-mannered sophomore that the team called 'the Chaplain' because
of his frequent references to his Christian values.

"Oh, shit, are you here to preach at
me, Chaplain?" Andrew genuinely liked the younger man, and would
ordinarily have been terribly embarrassed to have him hear the crude remark he
had uttered a moment before. However, he had already started on tonight's
complement of sleep-inducing vodka, and was therefore belligerent.

"No, Drew, I'm not going to preach.
I'm going to tell it like it is. You're a pussy. You've let that girl get under
your skin, and you're jeopardizing the entire team. Suck it up. You can fall
apart after the tournament if you want to, but right now we're prepared to beat
the shit out of you if you don't swear on your honor that you won't touch
another drop until the tournament is finished. Grow a pair of balls and act
like a man instead of a sniveling little girl."

Andrew was so surprised by the Chaplain's
uncharacteristic language that he started to laugh.

"You think that's funny? Listen,
shithead, I don't care if your mother and the love of your life took turns
pulling a train and blowing every guy on campus, you owe it to this team to get
your shit together. What's it going to be?"

"Okay, I get it" snarled Andrew,
the reference to his mother hitting a nerve that no one but Rihanna knew about.
"I swear, no more liquor until the tournament's over. Now get out, and let
me get some sleep."

Before they left, the intervention group
searched Andrew's dorm room for more liquor and confiscated a fifth of vodka
that was already open. They would take short shifts sitting outside the dorm
room, and under Andrew's window, to make sure he didn't sneak out and get any
more.

"Christian values my ass," Andrew
was heard to mutter, as the others filed out of his door.

~~~

The effort was almost for nothing, as the
next day, Andrew was summoned to his academic adviser's office.

"Mr. Craig, if it was anyone else, we
wouldn't be here. However, you know you're not just anyone. I've had reports
from three of your professors that you were drunk in class over the last two
days. Is it true?"

"What if it is?" he asked.

"If it is, I'm going to have to advise
your coach to suspend you for this game as well, pending an investigation. You
know your scholarship is dependent on not only keeping your grades up, but also
on following team rules."

"What if there are extenuating
circumstances?"

"I'm going to treat that as a
rhetorical question," his adviser said. "Otherwise, it sounds very
much like a confession. I don't want to be the bad guy, here. The team needs
you, and this season's almost over."

Andrew mulled over what was not being said,
that if he lied, his adviser would take it at face value and drop the threat of
a suspension . It was ironic that he hated a liar more than almost anything
else, and yet, he was almost being forced to lie. Shrugging his shoulders, he
answered the original question.

"No, it isn't true."

"I'm glad to hear that," said his
adviser, peering at him intently. There was no question that he knew it was a
lie, Andrew was certain. His adviser didn't call him on it.

"Let me just say one last thing. If it
ever came to my attention after this that you have showed up drunk in class, or
aren't following team rules, you'd be out of here so fast that you'll be
feeling yourself up to make sure you haven't left any body parts behind. Do you
get that?"

"Yes, sir," Andrew snapped, with
a mocking but crisp salute.

Andrew's system was beginning to recover
from the alcohol soaking it had suffered over the past week and a half. He
still felt badly used. Why did everyone think they had the right to verbally
abuse and threaten him? He was normally an optimistic and good-natured person,
but people kept kicking him when he was down, and it was beginning to wear on
him.

Another blow came when he got to the
stadium to dress out for tonight's game. Coach called him aside and delivered
it casually.

"Andrew, since you missed the last
couple of games, I'm going to have to have you coming off the bench. Slocum
performed pretty well in those games, and earned the right to start."

"But, Coach, you know how important
these games are to me."

"You aren't the only pebble on the
beach, kid. You screw up—there are consequences. Do you want to play, or
not?"

"You know I do," Andrew
protested.

"Then you'll do it on my terms. You
don't get to call the shots, got it?"

Yes, I get it, I've got it
, Drew thought.
Why does everyone keep asking me that?
His
surly mood didn't lift until Coach put him in, late in the first quarter, with
the team already behind by twelve points. Despite his weeklong bender, by
halftime Drew had helped the team pull to within two points of the opponent. To
make sure the lesson sunk in, Coach had the backup point guard, Slocum, start
again after halftime. This time he left Andrew on the bench for only five
minutes before sending him in to save the day. At the final buzzer, the score
was Utah 78; Texas Tech 76. The close call did what no one's threats had been
able to do. Andrew knew that he could kiss his NBA draft hopes goodbye if he didn't
straighten up and fly right.

For a day, he managed to forget about Janey
and focus on the tourney. Then Coach called him in again. "Craig, I'm
sorry to tell you this, but I have to bench you next game. Someone has alleged
that you broke team rules and there's going to be an investigation."

"Who would do that, Coach? A player on
another team?"

"You don't need to know. Slocum will
start, and the third-string man will back him up. You can dress out, but you
can't play."

That was it, then. There was no way he'd be
drafted if he couldn't play in the post-season, and if he sat out the next
game, chances were high that they'd lose and the season would be over. It was a
fucking disaster, and there was nothing he could do. Worse, he'd have to face
Greg and the others and tell them what had happened. By the end of the day,
he'd be lucky if he had a friend left in the world. Besides Rihanna, that is.
There was always Rihanna. She'd support him no matter what, though she'd be
disappointed.

Drew sent a text to Greg, asking him to
meet up at the dorm as soon as possible. He didn't want to have this
conversation in a public place. If Greg were still speaking to him afterward,
he'd ask him to tell the rest of the team so he wouldn't have to face them.
Then he sent Rihanna a text asking her to have dinner with him. She'd help him
lick his wounds, and maybe he could face the team tomorrow.

Half an hour later, Greg knocked on his
door.

"It's open."

Greg examined his friend closely and was
relieved to see no sign of impairment, but it was clear something was bothering
him.

"What's shakin', man?"

"Sit down." Greg began to get an
uneasy feeling. Drew's tone was serious.

"What is it?"

"Do you know if I have enemies on the
team?" Drew asked.

"No, Drew, why? I mean some of us like
you better than others do, but we all respect your talent. I don't think anyone
could be called an enemy."