Touchdown (11 page)

Clay nodded toward Leigh. “Oh, that's not my girl, that's my buddy, Leigh.”

Officer Brady chortled. “Nah, that's not who you were with when Officer Jonas caught y'all speeding down Buford highway. I heard that she was real pretty.” He winked at Clay.

“Oh, Carolyn. Yeah, sure, she's my main girl.”

Leigh rolled her eyes and impatiently tapped her leg. “So Clay was speeding? Why didn't y'all give him a ticket?”

Clay whispered to Leigh, “Why are you trying to get me into trouble? Just go with it.”

Leigh shot him a death glare. “Go ask your ‘main girl'—she's the one who got you into this mess.”

Officer Brady cleared his throat amidst their bickering.

“Anyway, Clayton, my bet is you got lucky on this one—Officer Jonas is a little soft for the Bullfrogs. But one more strike and you're out. Do you understand, son?”

“Yes, sir.” Clay nodded.

Officer Brady turned to Leigh. “I know you young ladies love chit-chat, but keep it for when you're off the road, all right, miss?”

Leigh managed a weak smile as the officer tipped his hat to them and then returned to his cruiser. Then she turned to Clay.

“See, Clay? You know better than to drive when you're hammered. And Carolyn, was she drunk, too? Do you even know where she is?”

Clay covered his face in his hands. “Shoot me now, Leigh. Just shoot me now.”

“Maybe I should. But Clay, why? You are so much better than all that!”

“Am I?” Clay fiddled with the radio, turning up a Jason Aldean song to the maximum volume. He tuned out.

Charlie, dressed in a soldier's uniform, was holding a glass of wine as he sidled over to where Goldie sat at a beautifully set table of fine china and silverware on a pink, linen tablecloth. “What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Huh? What's going on? Goldie looked around her. She was in a ballroom full of people all elegantly dressed, but everyone seemed to be from another era.

I must be dreaming again, she thought. First I dream about getting killed by a pack of stray dogs on my wedding night, then I'm in some antechamber in heaven . . . then somehow I find myself in some Georgia boy's body, and now I'm dreaming of Charlie circa WWII?

Maybe I'm at a costume party? Goldie wondered, because everybody—including herself, as she noticed looking at her own outfit—was dressed like it was the 1940s. The men wore army uniforms or spiffy suits, and the women wore long evening gowns, crafted from delicate fabrics. Thank God nobody's wearing polyester, she decided. The women had their hair long, with slight waves to one side. Old Hollywood, Goldie acknowledged. Super retro.

“I've been waiting for you,” she found herself saying to Charlie. Sure, he was cute—dashing, even. But Goldie wondered why she'd just said that. She'd never let a guy know what she was really thinking. Ever. It was against her rules. She tried to say something else, but couldn't. She felt like she was scripted to say what she did, that the words were destined to come out in a certain way. She felt like she, Goldie Fischer from Long Island, New York, had no control over what she did, or what came out of her mouth. Which certainly was a first.

Charlie finished his drink. “I told you I'd come,” he said.

“I feel like I've been waiting forever,” she said.

“Forever's not so long,” Charlie said, and lit up a cigarette. He offered her one. “Want a light?” he asked.

I don't smoke, Goldie thought, but instead she found herself saying, “I could use one. Thanks.” Okay, Goldie decided. Just go with it.

He lit another one and gave it to her, as the band started playing a slow song and a woman on the stage began to sing in a low, throaty voice.

Goldie recognized the tune. How could she not? She'd heard it in her dreams for years. Though in her past dreams, all she saw was her and Charlie dancing and it had always ended with him floating away. It had never gone any further, like this . . .

“That's my favorite song,” she said through the wafting smoke.

Charlie smiled at her. “Mine too.”

“Really?”

“It is now.”

Goldie blushed as Charlie came closer. She usually needed her space, but she found herself enjoying having him close. This isn't me, she thought. It's like I'm in a movie. And the script has already been written.

“May I have this dance?”

“Of course.” Goldie found herself drawn to him as she gave him her hand and he led her onto the dance floor.

She let him hold her close and she inhaled the scent of his shampoo, which reminded her of the outdoors—clean and fresh and invigorating. Her whole essence enjoyed dancing with him and she felt complete with him, protected, and found her heart pounding rapidly just being near him. She wished with all of her heart and soul that this moment could last forever.

“May I cut in?”

Goldie glanced away from Charlie to see the man who'd interrupted their dance. He was shorter and quite large, his thinning hair brushed over his balding temple.

Goldie hesitated.

The man pushed Charlie aside and grabbed Goldie's hand. Charlie raised his eyebrow, as if waiting to see what Goldie would want.

“Okay.” She shrugged, and allowed the man to hold her, as he placed his meaty hand on her lower back—but she didn't break her gaze with Charlie. The man mumbled something about how the servicemen were like riffraff, and Goldie tuned him out.

As soon as the song ended and the guests began to clap, Charlie sauntered over to her and held out his hand.

The man watched as Goldie took it, and allowed Charlie to lead her to the veranda outside.

“You didn't seem to be enjoying that dance, much.”

The night was dark, save for the stars and candlelight, which graced the few empty tables outside.

She laughed. “Oh, don't mind Alfred. My mother has been insisting I allow him to court me—”

“But?” Charlie turned away.

Goldie continued. “But I told her I'd only court a man I could love.”

The music started and Charlie enveloped her with his strong arms, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and they began to dance.

“That's my favorite song,” Charlie murmured.

“Mine too,” she whispered.

“Really?” he said quietly as he held her close.

“It is now,” she said and they continued to dance together on the empty veranda for what felt like forever.

Goldie opened her eyes. She was hovering beside the big Southern football player who was sleeping peacefully on a plush gray couch in someone's basement. She guessed that sweet girl with the untamed hair, Leigh, had driven them to his home, or was it someone else's house? She couldn't recall what had transpired.

She tried to walk out of the room, but found herself snapping back to the young man, like an extended rubber band pulled to its limit.

“Hey, what's going on?” she asked the boy, but he was in a deep slumber and clearly oblivious to her presence.

Whether she was dreaming or this was real, she realized she needed help. “Charlie?” she called out. “Can you hear me?”

Suddenly Charlie appeared beside her, dressed in his white suit, an aura of white light surrounding him.

“You called?”

“Charlie—I just had a dream about you.”

“They say I have that effect on women,” he said as he pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket.

“No, it was strange.” Goldie sighed. “It felt like I knew you . . . from before . . . ”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“But what's really bothering me is this—” She pointed to Clay, asleep.

“He looks like a fine young fellow. What about him bothers you?”

“Well . . . I seem to be attached to him.”

Charlie tapped his cigar to freshen the taste. “I see you've found another love rather quickly.”

Goldie shook her head. “Not like that. Just I can't seem to be able to walk past a few feet around him.”

Charlie nodded to the sleeping boy. “That's what happens when you attach yourself to someone.”

“So how do I detach?”

“I thought you wanted to help your sister and your Romeo.”

“I do.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “You're a dybbuk. That's what it means to be attached. You possess his body when he sleeps.”

“So I control him? He'll go to New York and take care of Mindy?”

“Not so fast, sweetheart. It doesn't work that way.”

Goldie sighed. “How does it work?”

He looked at the boy then back at Goldie. “For now—when you're asleep, he's in control, and when he's asleep, you are. When he's in a deep slumber you could exit his body but only by a bit.”

“That sounds like something I can work with,” Goldie decided.

Charlie smiled and waved his cigar. “For now. But soon you'll both be stronger and then you could be awake at the same time. You'll have to learn how to work together if either of you want to get anything done.”

“Why, that's crazy!” Goldie said, her eyes wide. “He's a man. How on earth will I convince him?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely—”

“Charlie!” Goldie snapped at him. “Even if he is by some grace of God an unusually accommodating person—he's still a male. If I'll want to make a right to get to New York, he'll want to take a left just to spite me!”

“I guess you'll need a good map,” Charlie said. “Hey, at least you're outside of his body now.”

Goldie listened.

“Give you a few hints. This guy is under a lot of pressure. For now you can be in control when he's sleeping, but pretty soon, when you're both awake, you'll be able to steer if his nerves get to him, if he gets flustered, or just full of doubt. When he's weakened, emotionally, you can step in.”

Goldie got that sense when she met Clay. She didn't understand how anyone would feel ambivalent about their lives. Especially someone like Clay who seemed to have it all.

“Sounds like I'll be stuck to him for a while. Can I go to Long Island? To see my family?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. “But you can only see them. You can't help them if you're a ghost.”

Goldie sighed. “So I have to use big guy's body to get to Long Island and help Mindy and Avner and Daddy?”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Charlie said. “This guy's in between worlds like you are, still trying to decide if he wants to deal with his life head-on or let it go. When he's on the fence about how he feels or what he wants, you're on the fence too.”

Goldie decided to change the subject and wistfully grabbed Charlie's hand. “How is Mindy?”

“Last I checked, she was doing all right.”

“Just all right?” Goldie nervously bit her lip. “I'm worried about her. Can I see her again? Who knows when I'll ever convince this big guy to physically go to New York?”

Charlie nodded and took both of her hands in his. “There's a way, as long as you're with me.”

She stood close to Charlie and held him tight.

“Stick with me, kid, I'll take you places,” he said as he held her hand and they took off.

Instantly, they were transported to her house on Long Island, where Goldie stood beside Charlie and watched out for her sister.

“Did you find those crazy Italian dishes?” Mindy called up to Avner from the basement as she searched through boxes of Goldie's wedding purchases.

“Umm, I found the Indian-styled pitchers, the silver cutlery, and those Ralph Lauren linens, but no luck on the dishes. Yet,” Avner called back from his precarious perch on the ladder in the massive hallway closet.

Mindy grinned to herself and held up a pair of sparkling Christian Louboutins that Goldie had planned to wear to her first child's baby shower. “Goldie was always so organized. And she had such great taste,” she said.

Goldie was sitting beside Charlie on the stairs, listening intently. “I still do!” she tried to shout, but Mindy and Avner were oblivious to her presence.

Avner smiled. “Yes, she did have the best taste. And she was so generous. My mother absolutely adored her. But it just hurts too much to have all of these reminders of our future, now that it's not going to happen, you know?”

“I guess,” Mindy said quietly. “I still can't believe she's gone.”

Avner nodded and shuffled through another Big Brown Bag from Bloomingdales. “I can't understand what possessed her to run like that—into traffic, no less?”

Mindy exhaled. “I don't know. She was always so terrified of losing it like our mom that she just went mad, I guess.”

Goldie interrupted. “It was the dogs, that's all.”

Avner shrugged. “If she didn't want to go through with the wedding, she could've just told me. I could have accepted it. She didn't have to run like that.”

Mindy shook her head. “I'm sure she wanted to get married. She told me so, a number of times.”

“Then what do you think happened?” Avner asked.

Mindy sighed. “I know she was very upset about other things . . . and she had a fever, too, so she might have been hallucinating.”

Avner nodded. “I have to believe that. After all, these items show me a woman who was planning on getting married.”

Mindy sighed. “Sometimes I just want to curl up and cry and not face the world, but Goldie wouldn't have wanted that for me. She would have told me to get over it.” Mindy paused. “She also would not approve of the three tubs of ice cream I went through last night.”

Goldie was horrified. “Three tubs?”

Avner shifted his attentions to the five large Macy's boxes. “Mindy, it's not supposed to be easy.”

Mindy walked up the stairs with a big carton of Goldie's special holiday silverware that now had to be returned, passing Goldie. “I'm done going through the stuff in the basement. You need any more help?”