Page 24 of Big Man on Campus

“Fuck. I mean, don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.”

“What the hell do you mean? How’d it happen? I’m going to assume the speculation about drunk driving is wrong.”

“Thanks, Dad. You would be right. Where’d you hear about it?”

“I follow the social media associated with SPU.” What the fuck?

“You what? You’ve been following—?”

“Yes, son. It’s not a crime to keep tabs on you. How else would I know you’ve been in an accident?” Guilt punches through my mock self-righteous indignation. “I know the car wasn’t yours. Care to tell me about it?”

Not fucking really, but I have to tell him something or he’ll look into it and find out all kinds of shit—who the fuck knows what. Flattening against the wall, I keep my voice low. Other guys are coming in for the meeting, greeting me with silent high fives and shoulder bumps as they pass by. I turn away for privacy. It’s too late to go somewhere else.

“I was driving Glory’s car,” I say to keep my story consistent. “I wasn’t drinking. I was on a call—but I was going slow. I barely tapped the tree. The car is such a junker it collapsed like a tin can.”

“You were driving Glory’s car?” He spits her name like a bad taste and every muscle in me tenses. He blows out a breath and I know he’s trying to be cool, but I know it’s hard for him because he blames Glory. The only difference between him and Mom is that he gets that it was an accident. He’s stopped short of accusing her of murder. Unlike Mom.

“Glory Rose?” he says, as if there’s another Glory.

“Yes.” I don’t add anything. I don’t like talking about her to my parents, haven’t done it in three years and now I remember why.

“I heard she was at St. Paul’s. You’re not starting up with her again, are you?”

I can hear the tension in his voice, how he’s holding back, I can hear the words he’s thinking because I know he wants so bad to tell me she’s no good, that I’d be stupid to see her, that she’s an irresponsible person, a drunk. Every cell in me wants to scream back at his unspoken words, to tell him she’s a good girl, a beautiful person, strong and loving, and that she would never say a bad word about him, never has. But I don’t. Breathing hard, I pause for control and tell him what I planned to tell him. What I already told Mom, though I had a hell of a time convincing her.

“I’m not seeing her.” I choke the lie out, feeling like a fucking asshole, betraying Glory and him and my mom. But the only thing worse would be the pain caused by shoving it in their faces that I’m seeing the woman they consider the worst human being on the planet, the one who killed their Sky. They don’t care how I feel, that I not only lost Sky that day, but Glory too. They’re blind to anything but their own pain, oblivious to my pain, to Glory’s pain.

But still, I can’t say it. Can’t tell them to go to hell, that I still love Glory. Not now. Not until Glory and I work things out. She made a mistake three years ago, but so did I. And so did Sky.

We need to have our fresh start and make our way to a stable relationship again. It’s too new now, too shot with open wounds from three years ago that still need mending. Especially after Glory’s most recent mistake. The last thing I want is my parents poking at us with the wounds still healing.

“That’s good to hear, son—”

“How’s the newlywed life?” I change the subject. We should be talking about him. Anything but Glory and me.

Dad laughs and the tension between us is gone. I breathe deep and take a second to appreciate the respite. I don’t care if its temporary, I need it. The past three years have been hell on my family and we’re just getting back to something approaching normal. Though I’m not sure if things will ever be okay with Mom. She’s deeply wounded and I don’t know how much she even cares about me anymore. It was my Aunt Theresa’s idea for her to take me for brunch and luckily Aunt T was with us at lunch later or I wouldn’t have stood a chance convincing her there was nothing to worry about with Glory. Which there isn’t, but not the way Mom would see it. I think she blames me partly for the crash, by association.

The injustice of the idea scalds my soul. But I can’t explain to Mom that Sky had been drinking, that Glory was trying to cover for her, to save her. That she had good intentions. And now we’re in some kind of hell and trying to claw our way out.

“The newlywed life is just fine. You keep your nose down and work hard,” he says. “We’ll be up for the season opener. Get me two tickets.” He doesn’t ask.

“Sure, Dad.” I’ll need to warn Mom and I’ll need to get separate tickets for her. Shit. “I gotta get to a team meeting now.” We end the call.

Trotting down the hall to the meeting room, I duck inside and take my seat in the front row.

Coach starts off with a reminder about the upcoming Alumni fundraising dinner, locker and jersey assignments, and then introduces the new players. He gives us a brief overview of the game schedule for the season.

“Practice starts next Monday. The weight room is open and the team’s training coach is there. I know some of you have been in.”

He nods, doesn’t smile. Looks at me. I nod. Officially he’s not supposed to encourage off-season weight training. But as one of the team captains last year, I know it’s my job to more than encourage the players to get in there. A lot of us have been around all summer and keeping up with workouts. The rest I’ll get into line.

“Time to vote for team captain and co-captain.” Coach has the manager pass out papers and pencils. “Write the names of two players on the paper. I’ll count them now and announce before you leave.”

Fitz elbows me. “You voting for yourself?” I roll my eyes, keeping my mouth shut. I write my name and his on my paper and fold it twice.

It only takes a couple of minutes to collect votes from all twenty guys on the roster. Most of the guys give me the thumbs-up. The freshmen only know me by reputation, but I’m sure Coach has given them an earful about team leadership. At least that’s what he did for me three years ago. Fuck. No one ever told me I’d feel like an old man when I got to senior year, not that I am. Not physically at least. But in every other way I feel ancient.

That’s what happens when you’re a senior. That’s what happens when lives get shattered in one night.