Touchdown (19 page)

Clay sighed. “If Coach finds out about this . . . ”

Leigh swallowed. “It's not about Coach. You need to get better, Clay.”

“Leigh, you shouldn't have,” he said in a low voice. “Not like this.”

A siren sounded in the background, and as Leigh turned her head, Clay ran out of the building.

“Help!” Leigh yelled. “He needs to be treated! Don't let him go!”

The attendant quickly shouted for backup and a security officer started running after Clay as Leigh ran after him, too. “I'm only trying to help you!”

“This isn't help,” Clay shook his head as he ran. “How could you do this to me?”

Leigh caught up with him, grabbing his hand. “I can't listen to you blather about having a woman stuck inside you and pretend that everything is okay—when it really, truly is so not. Okay?”

He considered making another run for it but then gave in. “I thought you were my friend,” he said, feeling betrayed.

“I am your friend, Clay,” she cried.

“Then why are you doing this, Leigh? Why did you stick me in a hospital? I need out!”

Clay tried to hold back tears as a security officer grabbed hold of him. The physician who followed stuck him with a needle and sedated him.

• • •

Charlie laughed. It was raining, hard, so he opened his umbrella as he exited the cab. He ran over to the other side of the taxi and opened the door for Goldie, shielding her from the rain as she exited.

“There's room for both of us,” she said and held him, tight, as they ran together toward the brownstone building before them.

The rabbi's wife let them into a sparsely decorated yet tidy parlor. “Gershon will be with you soon, he's just finishing up—”

“That's fine,” Goldie said. “Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice!”

The rabbi's wife laughed. “We've been busy.”

A young couple interrupted her as they left the rabbi's dining room, walking to the door. The fellow was dressed in his army uniform, the woman—his new wife, Goldie guessed—dressed like Goldie in a smart white dress.

“Mazel Tov,” the rabbi's wife blessed them.

The couple, smiling, accepted her good wishes, and waved as they left.

“So you're next,” said the rabbi's wife, turning to Charlie and Goldie. “Are you ready?”

“I don't know,” Charlie joked. “Are you ever?”

Goldie laughed. She'd waited for this moment—to join her soul with Charlie's—for what seemed like forever.

The rabbi's wife stared at Goldie. “Anyone joining you, today? Your mother, maybe?”

Goldie shrugged and turned to her fiancé. “She's still mad at me for refusing Alfred in favor of this ruffian.”

“Ruffian? I was a successful clothier before the war and these rations—”

“Shh,” Goldie chided Charlie. “It doesn't matter, really. Unless you were a college man like Alfred, Mama would assume you were a ne'er-do-well.”

Charlie shook his head. “Choosing the love of your life over a secure future with a stuffed toad? Goldie, how ridiculous could you be?”

“That's precisely what Mama said.”

The rabbi beckoned them into his dining room. A quorum of men sat around the table joking around as they nibbled on peanuts and raisins that were laid out in heavy crystal candy bowls.

“Some football team,” Goldie teased.

Four men stood up and held a hand-made wedding canopy.

“Would you like to review how to get married?” asked the rabbi.

Charlie grabbed Goldie's hand and brought her under the chuppah. “Let's get going,” he said.

The rabbi laughed. “Funny,” he said, “that's what the last couple said, too.” The quorum of men, witnesses to their wedding, all laughed and Goldie smiled as her wedding proceeded.

What was that? I married Charlie? Goldie tried to rouse herself, but couldn't. Whatever was in that shot they gave Clay was freaking heavy. She felt herself drift to a deeper level of unconsciousness.

Goldie stood beside Charlie at the train station, holding onto his duffel bag as he checked his papers. It seemed like endless numbers of men and the women who loved them were being torn apart by the winds of war. She couldn't bare the pain of separating from Charlie so she tried to distract herself by looking at the other servicemen and their women.

A young man, tall and blond, approached Charlie and spoke with a Southern drawl. “You need help with that?” he offered and grabbed Charlie's paper.

“Oh, hey, we're in the same division,” he said. “Flyboys. Maybe we'll even be co-pilots,” he said and held up his fist. “We got to win this war!”

“You bet!” Charlie said and held out his hand, introducing himself and Goldie.

The fellow shook it vigorously. “Clayton,” he said, as he continued to shake. “I'm Clayton Harper from Atlanta, Georgia. Are you a college man?” he asked Charlie.

Charlie shook his head, bemused. “I suppose you are?”

Clayton nodded and lifted his fists. “Georgia Bullfrogs all the way!”

Charlie chuckled. “Then I hope if you fly with me, you score some touchdowns.”

“You bet.” Clayton winked, then seeing the one he'd been waiting for, he ran, hollering toward the pretty young woman with curly red hair and a slim frame—save for a very pregnant belly. “You came! LeAnn!”

The young woman jumped into his arms and twirled around in his hug. “Did you ever think I wouldn't? Nothing would get in the way of me seeing you off.”

Goldie watched as Clayton kissed his wife, hard. “I always knew you'd be there for me, LeAnn. I never doubted you for a minute.” He gently patted her belly. “And you brought Clayton Junior to see Daddy off, huh?”

LeAnn laughed. “How do you know that we're having a son?”

“I suppose I don't, though it would be some poor, unlucky girl to have a name like Clayton Junior!”

LeAnn smiled as she hugged her husband and the sight of their love gave Goldie the strength she needed to face Charlie.

“All aboard!” the conductor called out, blowing his whistle.

Suddenly, the crowd started to break up, as the men said their last goodbyes and headed off to the train.

Goldie turned to Charlie. “I'm going to miss you so, so much,” she said.

Charlie held her face in his hands. “I will be with you, always,” he said. “Not heaven nor earth can keep us apart,” he said.

Goldie started crying. “How will I go on now without you?”

Charlie shook his head. “You're stronger than you think, Goldie.”

“But what if—”

Charlie held her close as she sobbed, her tears wetting his jacket. “A love like ours, Goldie, it's a forever love. Don't you forget that, okay? I will love you forever.”

Goldie held him tight as the bells clanged and the train tweeted. “Forever is not so long,” she said finally, though when he left her to jump onto the disembarking train, she thought she would die of longing, sadness, and the pain of not being with him.

• • •

Goldie opened her eyes wide and slowly looked around. She noticed the dim lighting and bland white walls, and the smell of antiseptic floor cleanser wafted into her nose. “What am I doing in this hospital bed?” She saw she was hooked up to an IV She tried to move, but felt dizzy.

Beside her sat Leigh, contorted in a horribly unnatural position, sleeping in a chair by her bed.

“Hey, can you help me up?” Goldie asked. “I want to take out this plug.”

Leigh immediately awoke. “Doctor said you should rest.”

Goldie nodded. “Remind me why we are here?”

Leigh got up and then sat on Goldie's bed. “They want you here for observation.”

“Oh no, I'm sick?” Goldie suddenly worried. “What? I thought he was putting way too much heavy food in this body. And running around on a field with all those giants—”

“Not sick in the body,” Leigh tapped her head. “They've done MRIs and don't see any concussion—”

“The dreams—could they be from faulty wiring?” Goldie suddenly panicked. “How long have I been here?”

“Two and a half days.”

“Oh no! Time is really wasting, Leigh. When will I get to New York?”

She nodded. “Look, you're still on break from school. My boss said I could time take off—”

Goldie sat up. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

Leigh nodded. “Doctor said—”

“I don't care what the doctor said!” Goldie screamed.

Suddenly, the doctor walked in, carrying a clipboard. “I see you're feeling better?” he said.

Goldie looked him up and down. “I'm fine, doctor.”

“You realize damage to the frontal lobe could cause a change in one's mental faculties. You've taken a lot of hits on the field.” The doctor nodded toward Leigh. “Your friend here said that you've been having possible psychotic episodes?”

“She's calling me psychotic? Do you actually think playing a game with a bunch of giants trying to jump on you is normal?”

The doctor nodded. “I see the stress must have gotten to you.”

Goldie shook her head. “You have no idea.”

The doctor shook his head sympathetically. “I can imagine. I saw you play against the Yellow Jackets the other night—”

“Oh, did you?” Goldie interrupted. “It was a tough game, no?”

“They were brutal. I don't know how you guys do it.”

“You're so right.” Goldie nodded. “I was absolutely terrified.”

“And losing must've been a crushing feeling.”

Goldie sighed. “I did my best and it was like everybody was depending on me—it was all just so frightening!”

“You know, many football players aren't so in tune to their emotions,” the doctor said. “I think it's really brave of you to try to face your stress head-on.”

Leigh cut in. “Hey. You think his behavior is normal?”

The doctor regarded Leigh with eyes that flashed who are you calling crazy? But he said in a professional tone, “It is known that severe stress could cause periodic detachments from reality.”

“He's been acting real nuts, doctor.”

“Extreme stress can induce psychotic episodes,” he said, “and that's all within a continuum of normal behavior.”

Leigh retorted in an angry voice, “He's been behaving like a teenage girl.”

“You think so?” Goldie stared at Leigh, then at the doctor.

The doctor nodded. “A teenage girl? How is that?”

Leigh ticked off Clay's missteps. “He yaps with his girlfriend about shopping and shoes, he went to the tanning salon, he said he liked nail polish—”

The doctor stepped back. “When people are under stress, it's typical to experiment—”

“Typical?” Leigh raised her voice. “He told me that there is someone trapped inside of him!”

“Uh huh.” The doctor blushed. “And you brought him in to the hospital for that?”

Goldie winked at the doctor. “I'm so sorry, doctor. I was just playing a joke on Leigh and she—”

“So you don't believe there is a ‘someone trapped inside you'?”

“Of course not, doctor. Absolutely not. No way. Just joking, okay?”

“Because if you did, you know—”

Goldie shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “I don't even like Louboutins.”

“I understand completely. No need to explain.” He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his chart, toying with a pen.

Turning back to Leigh, he said, “He has a lot on his plate, miss. Just take it easy, okay?”

Leigh's face reddened. “I should take it easy?”

The doctor turned to Goldie. “Good luck with everything. You're a fine football player. And a strong arm. Everyone messes up sometimes, but you've shown consistent talent. And don't sweat it—everything will all work itself out. You'll see.”

“So can I go now?” Goldie asked the doctor.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I'll get the discharge papers.”

A nurse unplugged the IV, and once Goldie donned Clay's clothes, she checked out of the hospital.

“So this was all some sick joke?” Leigh asked as she walked over to where Goldie stood.

Goldie glared at her. “After what you did to me, I don't think I owe you an answer.”

“What I did to you?”

“You said you'd take me to New York and I wind up sedated—and let me tell you that feeling is very trippy—”

“I was only trying to help you! You blow hot to cold—what was I supposed to think?”

“Who cares? Why couldn't you just take me to New York like you promised?”

“Ugh!” Leigh exhaled. “You are so impossible!”

“Right,” Goldie said. “So if I'm so impossible—what are you still doing here with me?”

“I'm a true friend—even if you don't deserve it. I just wanted to see how you're doing.”

“Friend? Right,” Goldie said and walked toward the hospital exit. “No, you're not.”

“So that's it? I do one thing you don't like and now I'm no good?”

“I didn't say that,” Goldie said. “I just want to get to New York and I cannot understand why you are getting in my way and making this so difficult.”

Leigh caught up and walked briskly beside Goldie. “All right. If that's all this is . . . You want a lift to the airport? I'll take you.”

Goldie shrugged. “Never mind. Your help I don't need. I'll find another way.”

“For God's sake—” Leigh shouted. “You're impossible!”

“Do you mind?” Goldie turned around to find other people looking at them as they approached the exit. “You're making a spectacle of yourself.”

“I'm making a spectacle of myself?”

“There you go again, raising your voice. First you lie to me, then you have me signed up to a—what was that? A mental institution? It was so icky. And it smelled bad. This is like something out of a soap opera!”