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As she set her feet on the floor and slipped into her robe, she saw that it was nearly three in the morning. It was Sunday already, and she and Bobby Tom were flying to San Antonio in the morning with Natalie and her husband Anton, who was in town for the weekend.
She moved out into the hallway and saw that the light was coming from his office. She stopped in the doorway. He sat sprawled in an easy chair fixed at a slight angle so that he didn’t see her when she stepped inside. His hair was rumpled, and he wore a gold-and-brown silk robe printed with old Spanish coins. The silvery light came from the television screen, where he watched a football game with the volume muted.
He pointed the remote control toward the television, and as the picture went into reverse motion, she realized it was actually a videotape that held his attention. She turned her attention to the screen and spotted him in his Stars’ uniform.
As the flickering patterns of light and shadow moved across his face and threw his cheekbones into sharp relief, the silent football play progressed. Bobby Tom made a sharp cut toward the sidelines. The ball was coming toward him, but it looked as if it had been thrown too high for him to catch. He leaped up in the air anyway and seemed to hang there, every muscle in his body stretched.
Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the opposing player charging toward him. Bobby Tom was fully extended and completely vulnerable.
The hit was brutal. Within seconds, he was lying on the ground writhing in pain.
He hit the rewind button and once again the play began to unfold. She felt sick inside as she realized this was what he’d been doing night after night when she’d seen the light coming from his study. He had been sitting in the dark reliving the play that ended his career.
She must have moved or made some involuntary noise because he twisted toward her. When he saw her standing there, he jabbed the remote to stop the tape. The screen filled with snow.
“What do you want?”
“I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“I don’t need you checking up on me.” He rose from the chair and tossed the remote down on the cushion.
“It breaks my heart thinking of you sitting here night after night watching that tape.”
“I don’t know where you get your ideas. This is the first time I’ve looked at that tape since I was hurt.”
“That’s not true,” she said softly. “I can see the light in here from my bedroom window. I know you watch it all the time.”
“Just mind your own business.”
The tendons of his neck had corded with tension, but she couldn’t back down about something so important to him. “You’re still young. It’s time to move forward with your life instead of looking backward.”
“Now that’s funny. I don’t have any memory of asking for your advice.”
“It’s behind you now, Bobby Tom.” Impulsively, she held out her hand. “I’d like you to give me the tape.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because you’re hurting yourself by watching it, and it’s time to stop.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please give me the tape.”
He jerked his head toward the television. “If you want
it so much, take the goddamn thing, but don’t start acting like you know what I’m thinking and what I’m not thinking because you don’t.”
“You won’t let your guard down with anyone, will you?” She walked over to the television and removed the tape from the VCR.
“Just because we’ve spent some time in bed together doesn’t give you the right to start prying and poking. A woman does that to me once too often, she ends up on the other side of the door, and don’t you forget it. I’m going to chalk this conversation up to your inexperience with men.”
She refused to be intimidated by his belligerence because she understood its source. She had seen too deeply into his private emotional landscape, and he wanted to make her pay. She patted his arm. “This hasn’t been a conversation, Bobby Tom. You haven’t said one single thing that matters.”
She slipped past him to go into the bedroom and gather up her clothes, but she’d no sooner tucked the videotape in her purse before he appeared in the doorway. “Maybe that’s because I haven’t been talking dirty.”
His mouth was cocked at the corner in a lazy, calculated grin that didn’t make it anywhere near his eyes. She recognized the effort he was making to pretend that she hadn’t touched a nerve and knew he intended to put an end to her probing of his psyche by using his favorite weapon, premeditated charm.
For a moment she hesitated, undecided about the course she should take. Did the fact that she loved him give her the right to chip away at the barriers of privacy he was so determined to keep in place? She wanted to, but common sense told her he’d erected those walls a long time ago, and she wasn’t going to tear them down in one night.
