Текст книги "The Bridge from You to Me"

Автор книги: Lisa Schroeder

43
Lauren

 
Colby never called me,
like I hoped he would.
 
 
Once I learned it was his
best friend who was
the one in the coma,
it made sense.
 
 
I ran into Colby in the hallway
on the first day of school.
I stopped. Smiled.
Said, “Hey, good to see you.”
 
 
“You too,” he replied,
hardly looking at me
as he kept on walking.
 
 
Stasia said it’s just how
guys are. They get stressed
out easier than girls.
They do what they have to do
to keep it together.
 
 
I keep trying to think of
something I can do to
cheer him up.
 
 
My mom used to call me
Sunny Bunny,
because I was always trying
to cheer her up.
 
 
I can’t help it.
I hate seeing people
I care about sad.
 
 
And every time
I see Colby, it looks like
someone’s told him
all the bridges
in the world have burned
to the ground.
 

44
Colby

I head home after practice because I have homework I’ve been neglecting. I tell myself that if there was news, good or bad, Benny’s mom would have gotten in touch with me. It’s probably still too soon to know what lies ahead.

Gram and Grandpa are surprised to see me for dinner. Lately, I’ve been coming home after they’re in bed and I just heat up a plate of leftovers. But not tonight.

“You’ve lost weight, Colby,” Gram says. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”

I sit down, and my stomach growls because I’m starving and everything smells delicious.

“I’m okay, Gram,” I tell her as she passes me the bowl of mashed potatoes.

I’m about to say something else when Dad walks in.

“Oh, how nice,” Gram says, getting up to set another place. “We’re all here together for a change.”

“Good to see you, Paul,” Grandpa says.

“How are you feeling, Dad?” my dad asks Grandpa as he takes a seat.

“I’m doing just fine.”

Dad turns to me. “Colby, how was your day? Hopefully life’s a little easier now that we know Benny’s out of the woods.”

Easier? Give me a break. “It was fine, I guess.”

“With the good news, maybe you guys can play a better game come Friday, huh?”

I stuff a big bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth so I don’t tell him how little I care about football right now.

He dishes up his steak, salad, and potatoes and then looks at me. “Son, I know this has been rough on you, but you have

got to try and put it behind you. You have to stay focused when you’re on that field. Benny’s a strong kid. He’s gonna get  through this. And you worrying about him doesn’t do him or you a bit of good.”

“Yeah. But it’s hard, you know?”

His eyes are kind when he says, “I know. But right now, there’s no room for error on that field. Until you sign a con-tract in February, anything could happen.”

I don’t say anything.

“I’m just looking out for you, Colby.”

This is where I should call bullshit.

This is where I should tell him I’m tired of him reliving his glory years through me.

And this is where I should tell him that I don’t want to play college ball. I want to go to college to study civil engineering, and that’s my number one priority.

Instead, I say, “Yeah. Okay.” And then I shovel more food in my mouth.

45
Lauren

 
I’ve applied for a job at eight places,
and only one has called me for an interview.
 
 
On Thursday, I put on some nice clothes.
“Remember,” Josh says, “smile a lot.”
 
 
I tuck his piece of advice into my pocket
and ride my bike to King’s Doughnuts.
 
 
As I pedal, I go over the list of things
I know about doughnuts.
 
 
They smell good, and they taste delicious.
And that is the extent of my knowledge.
 
 
I decide maybe it isn’t so much what I know
about doughnuts but more about
 
 
customer service and how effective
I could be at selling baked goods.
 
 
“Would you like to try our fall favorites,
apple cider or pumpkin spice?”
 
 
“If you buy a dozen doughnuts,
we’ll give you one for free.”
 
 
“Two doughnuts? You can’t buy just two.
As soon as they’re gone, you’ll wish you had more.”
 
 
In the end, I’m not asked what I know
about doughnuts or how I’d sell them.
 
 
I’m asked about my strengths and weaknesses,
my grades, my schedule, my goals.
 
 
I discover interviewing for a job is like
taking a test you haven’t studied for.
 
 
When it’s over, I have no idea if I passed or failed,
but I say thank you and buy a dozen doughnuts.
 

46
Colby

When mrs. Lewis calls me Thursday night, I’m thinking about all the normal things people are doing, while Benny’s lying in a hospital bed, his future uncertain.

They’re eating pizza. Watching lame reality shows on television. Griping about too much homework. While they go on with their lives like nothing in the world is wrong, some people’s lives will never be the same.

I want to punch something because of the unfairness of it all.

“We had a little bit of good news today,” she tells me.

“Benny touched his head. The doctors called it a purposeful movement, and they said it’s a very good sign.”

I lean back on my bed and breathe a sigh of relief. “Has he said anything?” I ask her.

“No. Not yet.” She pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Colby, the fact of the matter is Benny has massive traumatic brain injuries. His prognosis at this time is unknown. We need to be patient and see what happens in the coming days and weeks. The doctors have told us to be prepared for a long road of recovery.”

“Like, how long?”

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. I know she’s trying to keep it together, for my sake. “Honey, we’re talking months. Maybe even . . . years. We just don’t know.”

I swallow hard. “Thanks for calling me. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s one more thing I want to tell you,” she says.

“What’s that?”

“You play hard tomorrow night,” she says. “You think of Benny, and you win that game, just like he’d want you to.”

“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him,” I tell her, tears in my eyes.

“I know.”

“And we’re gonna win that game.”

“I know.”

47
Lauren

 
The kids have matching
blue-and-gold knit hats
they wear to the football games.
 
 
Doesn’t matter if it’s not
very cold out. Blue and gold
are Eagle colors.
 
 
“You like wearing those itchy hats?”
I asked the kids last Friday
as they got ready to leave.
 
 
“They’re not itchy,” Demi said.
“They’re soft.”
 
 
“Do you like watching football?” I asked.
 
 
“Yes,” they said in unison,
their heads bobbing up and down,
like three little parrots in a row.
 
 
“You want to go?” Erica asked me.
“No, thanks,” I said.
“I’ve got homework.”
 
 
Tonight they’re getting ready again.
They’ve got their seat cushions,
their animal crackers,
and their itchy hats.
 
 
Demi comes over to the couch,
where I’m sitting.
 
 
“Come with us,” she tells me.
 
 
“Well, you know, I would,
but I don’t have a hat to keep
my head warm.”
 
 
Demi pulls hers off. “You can wear mine.”
 
 
“Actually,” Erica says, “Lauren has her own.”
 
 
She tosses a plastic bag in
my lap. I reach in and pull out
a hat just like the ones
Andrew, Henry, and Demi wear.
 
 
Demi jumps up and down.
“You’ve got a hat, you’ve got a hat,
now you can go, now you can GO!”
 
 
I tear the tag off and stick
the hat on my head.
It fits perfectly.
And Demi’s right.
It’s not itchy at all.
 
 
In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s
the most awesome hat
I’ve ever owned.
 

48
Colby

It’s an away game in Lansford, about a twenty-minute drive, which means most of our fans will make the trip to watch. As annoying as it gets to have everyone talk football with me everywhere I go, the support we get on game nights is incredible. Once in a while, I wonder if I’ll miss that – knowing you have a whole town on your side.

In the locker room, Coach passes out the round stickers with Benny’s number and tells us to hold the helmet with the face guard against our chest and place it on the right side.

I know it’s all about showing that we love and support him, but the thing is, I don’t want to play with a sticker of Benny’s number. I want to play with Benny. And the stickers remind me that I will probably never play with him again. And that right there is enough to make me want to run away and never come back.

But of course, I don’t. I told Mrs. Lewis we’d win, and I have to somehow put all my feelings aside and go out there and play.

“I want you to remember something,” Coach says. “Football is about defending what’s ours. Let’s go out there and defend our territory, like we do every game. But tonight, and every night for the rest of this season, let’s defend our friend and teammate Mr. Benjamin Lewis. We will not let our guards down, for him. We will play with confidence, for him. We will play our best, for him. I believe!”

“I believe!” we yell.

“Now go out there and make him proud.”

49
Lauren

 
The game of football,
according to Uncle Josh:
 
 
Four downs
to move the
ball at least ten yards.
 
 
If you make it,
you get another ten,
and so on until you score.
 
 
If you don’t,
you punt it away
and the other team
gets the ball.
 
 
The game of football
according to me:
 
 
Boys in weird-
looking pants
running around,
throwing a football,
and jumping on
each other.
 
 
Colby is number twenty
and he’s who I watch
the most.
 
 
He misses pass after pass,
and in the third quarter,
there’s an interception
that makes the crowd groan.
 
 
On the bench,
Colby puts his head in
his hands.
 
 
Never in a million years
did I think I’d feel like crying
at a football game.
 

50
Colby

It’s not that I don’t want this win. I do.

I always want the win. There is pure magic in that moment when you look back and see what you did, sometimes against all odds, to come out ahead. Day in and day out, we struggle: with homework, with test scores, with parents, with teach-ers, with girls, with friends – some days, it seems, with everything. And we are usually alone in those daily struggles.

But on the field, when we struggle, we do it together. There is no greater feeling than knowing you have a team that is behind you one hundred percent. All working toward the same thing. All playing with heart and grit and passion, to make it through the crap and to come out the other side successful.

I love this team. I love what it feels like to be part ofthis team. When I’m on the field playing, most of the time, whatever’s going on in my brain takes a backseat and the desire to win for my team takes over.

Tonight, I’m trying so hard, and yet, Benny’s absence is there, following me like a shadow. It’s worse than any defense coming my way. Nothing’s going right. I’m a step ahead or a step behind, and once, I even let the ball slip through my fingers.

“Shake it off,” Temple says to me when we huddle up in the third quarter. He slaps my helmet. “You can do this. We can do this. All we need is a first down. Focus on that right now.” He calls the play; we clap and break.

As the football spins toward me, I see an image of Benny that day in my yard, tossing the ball around. It was a time when possibilities seemed endless and things were just as they should be.

The defender comes out of nowhere. My sixth sense must not be working, and when he intercepts the ball, it’s another missed opportunity.

Another moment I can’t get back.

Another thing taken from me.

I leave the field, disappointment swallowing me whole. Right now, troubles seem endless and things are not as they should be.

The question, of course, is what am I going to do about it. I know I’ve got to find something to hold on to. When I look up into the stands, I take a deep breath.

Because maybe, just maybe, I’ve found it.

51
Lauren

 
Fourth quarter,
We’re down by six.
 
 
Number twenty goes
back in to play.
 
 
Everyone stands
and cheers.
 
 
“Eagle” clap, clap
“Power” clap, clap
 
 
Colby sprints
down the field
 
 
with two defenders
on his tail.
 
 
“Eagle” clap, clap
“Power” clap, clap
 
 
He makes a turn
as the ball spins his way.
 
 
He jumps,
leans, s t r e t c h e s,
 
 
giving everything
he has to catch that ball.
 
 
“Eagle” clap, clap
“Power” clap, clap
 
 
The other two players try
to get in on the action too.
 
 
When the Eagle lands,
he’s just inside the end zone,
 
 
and he’s clutching the ball
like it’ll break if he drops it.
 
 
Teammates give him pats
of adoration and appreciation.
 
 
When the kick is good,
the scoreboard shows
 
 
the Eagles in the lead. Joyous
screams erupt from the stands.
 
 
The game ends a
few seconds later and
 
 
in that moment I feel like
I’m a part of something magical.
 
 
I search the night sky for enchanted
stardust, swirling and whirling,
 
 
but all I see are tiny dots,
dim and dull compared to the
 
 
bright and shining stars
on the field this happy night.
 

52
Colby

I saw her in the stands. Lauren. The girl I wanted to get to know better until my world shattered into a million pieces.

After the interception, as I headed to the sidelines, I glanced up, and there she was. She and her cousins were hard to miss in their matching blue-and-gold hats near the front of the crowd.

Maybe I should have talked to her when she stopped me in the hall that first day, but when your heart is so full of pain and sadness, it’s hard to make room for anything else. So I told myself to let her go. Besides, she didn’t need me bringing her down.

But as I sat there on the bench, cooling off, I thought about our day together. About our walk back in time at the covered bridge. About our swing from the rope. About what she’d said.

Maybe if you score a touchdown for me, I’ll come.

I told myself if I got another chance, if I got back in the game, I’d do things right. I’d think about her, believing in me enough to dare me to score a touchdown not just once, but once every game.

And then I realized she wasn’t the only one who believed in me that way. Benny did too. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and start being the kind of person he’d want me to be.

Seeing her there . . . it helped. It helped me a lot. It gave me the push I needed, and thankfully, I caught the pass when it really counted.

After the game, as I’m walking toward the team bus, Coach pulls me aside.

“I’m sorry,” I say before he has a chance to get a word out. “About how I played most of the game.”

“Son, I don’t want your apology. What I want is the dedication and commitment you showed on that winning catch every minute you’re on the field.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your heart is heavy. I understand that. But when it’s game time, you’ve got to find a way to leave it all behind and make the game the priority. There will be times in your life when things happen and you wish you could stay in bed for days, but you can’t because people count on you. This is one of those times. Your team is counting on you now. As hard as it is, you’ve got to trust me that making you get out there and play is the best thing I can do for you right now.”

“I know.”

He slaps me on the back. “Enjoy your weekend. And son, if you need anything, you be sure and let me know, all right?”

“Thanks, Coach. That means a lot.”

“Well, you mean a lot to this team. Remember that.”

Once I’m on the bus, I put on my headphones, sink back into my seat, and close my eyes. Game over. Week over. My feelings for Lauren? Obviously, not over.

53
Lauren

 
Fear is like a mountain,
looming large
in the background,
taunting you with its
magnificence.
 
 
It seems so much
bigger than you,
and the thought of
climbing it,
of overcoming it,
seems impossible.
 
 
But it is not you
against the mountain.
 
 
The mountain does
not exist simply
to make you
feel small.
 
 
It exists for purposes
beyond your
understanding.
 
 
To climb it is simply
to take one step
and then another
step and then
another step;
a walk uphill.
 
 
It is all in how
you look at it.
 
 
And when you reach
the top, there is no more
mountain.
Only a view that
takes your breath
away.
 
 
I am afraid
to reach out
to this boy
I really like.
 
 
But I tell myself
it is not me
against the mountain.
 
 
I will not let it
make me feel small.
 
 
I can do this.
I can take one step
and then another
step and then
another step;
a walk uphill.
 
 
I tell myself
the view
will be worth it.
 
 
Completely
and totally
worth it.
 

54
Colby

When the bus pulls into the school’s parking lot, I think how this is where Benny would lean into me and say, “Whatcha up for now, Pynes?”

Sometimes it was Murphy’s Hill.

Sometimes it was Angie’s Restaurant and the all-you-can-eat pancake special with scrambled eggs and bacon.

Sometimes it was simply two words: “I’m beat.” Benny had different ways of responding to that, and almost all of them made me laugh.

We trudge off the bus, and Derek Nelson asks me if I want to join him and a few other guys who are going to check out a party they heard about.

“Thanks, man, but I’m heading home. I gotta work tomorrow.”

Derek looks over my shoulder and smiles. “Sure you do, Pynes. Sure you do.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. I turn around and see Meghan leaning up against my truck.

“Damn,” I say.

He slaps me on the shoulder. “Have fun.”

I think about changing my mind and asking him for a ride to the party, if he’ll bring me back here later. That’s how much I don’t want to talk to Meghan right now. But they’re hooting and hollering and happy, walking across the parking lot, and I’m just not up to it.

“Good game,” she says when I approach. “That catch at the end was brilliant.”

“Thanks. I came through when it mattered, I guess.” I move past her, and throw my bag in the bed of my truck.

She pulls on my arm, and when I turn around, she’s right there. “I know you need someone right now.” Her eyes are so sad. And for a second, I wonder why. What does she have to be sad about? “This thing with Benny is killing you, I can tell. Let me help you.”

I sigh. “Meghan, I thought we already went over this.”

“I’m not your guardian angel anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t . . . you know.”

“Don’t do this.”

She looks surprised. “Do what?”

“This. Throw yourself at me because I’m the hero of the game tonight or whatever. Did you see the way I played the rest of the game? I’m not a hero. I’m so far from a hero, it’s not even funny.”

She looks heartbroken. “Colby, I like you. That’s all.”

I shake my head. “No. Like I told you before, I don’t think you even really know me. What you like is being a part of the winning team. It makes you feel good. Because you obviously don’t have much else in your life that makes you feel good about yourself, or you wouldn’t be showing up here, acting like this.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know what? You’re wrong. I do know you. I know that you’re an asshole.” She stomps over to her car. “Jesus, I just felt bad for you and everything you’ve been going through. I wanted to helpyou!”

She gets in her car and speeds off before I can respond. Not that I have anything else to say.

Sometimes things in this small town are so backward, I can hardly see straight. I stand there, trying to think of one thing I actually like about this town right now.

And that’s when I think of the girl who is so different from everyone else. The girl who’d never seen a covered bridge. The girl who doesn’t really like football.

It’s so cliché, but right now I feel like this small town might smother me, and Lauren is a breath of fresh air.

I want to see her. I want to remember what it’s like to feel normal again.

So I get in my truck, and I head toward the Jiffy Mart.

55
Lauren

 
Josh and Erica
let me go with
Stasia after the game.
 
 
She has a white
Ford Focus instead of
a blue bicycle.
We ride back
to Willow, singing
along to the radio.
 
 
A Katy Perry song
comes on, and I think
that they seem like
kindred spirits,
with Stasia’s pink hair
and crazy clothes
and how she loves lollipops
(grape is her favorite).
 
 
There is something
about singing with
a girlfriend in the car,
happy and carefree,
that makes you
feel like you can
do
 
 
ANYTHING.
 
 
I tell myself I can
do what I want to do.
 
 
What I’m afraid to do.
 
 
What I need to do.
 
 
I can talk to Colby
when he gets off
the bus and tell him
I had so much fun
that day we spent
together and I’ve
missed him.
 
 
Maybe he feels
the same, maybe not,
but I want to know.
 
 
I need to know.
 
 
Stasia parks in a
dark corner, and
we wait for the bus
to arrive.
 
 
“He’s really cute,” she says.
 
 
“I know.”
 
 
“I hope it works out.”
 
 
“Me too.”
 
 
She reaches into
the glove box to get
a lollipop. She offers
me one, but I decline.
 
 
The butterflies are
circling, and I tell myself
it’s because I’m
excited, not nervous.
 
 
We watch as
a beautiful girl
walks up to
Colby’s truck
and looks inside
before she turns
around and leans
up against it,
her arms crossed
like she’s ready to
wait all night.
 
 
“Who is that?” I whisper.
 
 
“Meghan Cooley,” Stasia says.
“His ex.”
 
 
Suddenly, I’m wishing
I would feel afraid again.
Or nervous.
Or excited.
Anything besides the
sadness that fills me.
 
 
I can’t believe
it’s going to end
like this.
 
 
“Do you want to stay?” she asks.
 
 
“No.
I can’t watch.”
 
 
“I’m sorry,” she says.
 
 
The story
of my whole
miserable life.