Текст книги "The Bridge from You to Me"

Автор книги: Lisa Schroeder

75
Lauren

 
With pies
in the back,
we head to
the spot
downtown
where we will
sell fabulous treats
and collect
donations.
 
 
Colby is quiet.
 
 
Are people
going to come?
 
 
Will it be
enough?
 
 
Are we doing
all we can?
 
 
They are questions
with answers
we don’t have
quite yet.
 
 
I want to
reach over.
Hold his hand.
Tell him it
will be okay.
 
 
Would a friend
do that?
 
 
This whole
“being friends”
is hard.
 
 
Harder than
I thought.
 
 
There’s a line
we’re not supposed
to cross, except
the line is not
clear and not straight
and seems to move
at times.
 
 
Honestly,
I wish I could
just erase
the stupid line.
 
 
Build a bridge instead,
so there’d be nothing
to get in our way.
 

76
Colby

Lauren’s quiet.

Is she nervous? Worried about the turnout? Or wondering if everything will go all right? I don’t want her to worry.

“You know, this is a good thing you’re doing. Benny’s family appreciates it a lot.”

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s been fun, working on this. I’m glad I’ve had something else to think about besides . . .” She stops. Smiles. “I think it’s going to be a great day. I’m excited.”

I wonder what she was going to say. I almost ask her but decide now’s not the time. “Yeah. Me too. So which pie should I buy?”

She turns and looks at me. “Well, I think the question is, what do you like?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You mean, as far as a pie goes?”

As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s hard to stay away from flirting territory all the time. I mean, it’s pretty fun there. Especially with Lauren.

I want her to reply with something like, “No, not as far as a pie goes, as far as a girl goes.”

And then I would say something like, “Well, you should know better than anyone right now.”

Then she would get all flustered and not know how to respond. And I could reach over for her hand, and take it in mine.

But Lauren, she’s good. She keeps things right where they are supposed to be. She replies, “Of course, as far as pie goes. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

“I guess I like berry or apple,” I say, pretty unenthusiastically, because what I really want to say is, I likeyou.

“Well, you’ll get first choice,” she says.

I want to say, I chooseyou.

Clearly, this being friends thing has become a challenge for me. But that’s okay. I thrive on challenges (or at least, this is what I tell myself).

When we get to the location of the bake sale, the tables and canopies are all set up and the place looks fantastic. Mr. Curtiss, Lauren’s boss, is setting up a couple of cash registers with change, which he offered to do.

Lauren goes over to talk to him and I simply stand back and watch her for a minute. I could watch her all day, actually, but I have pies to carry over.

Very carefully, one at a time, I take the pies to a table. Lauren comes over a little while later with colorful doilies, the ingredients lists, and the price tags. Each of the pies made with pudding are in boxes with a couple of ice packs on the bottom. The other pies, she puts on little stands she made. When she’s done, I have to say, the table looks amazing.

“I’m gonna buy the berry one and put it in my truck, if that’s okay?” I tell her.

“Yeah. Absolutely. Mr. Curtiss can take your money.”

“Do you have something set up for donations too?” I ask.

“He brought a couple of huge jars for that. They’re perfect.”

“Okay, good.”

“The volunteers are starting to arrive,” she says. “I should go give them their directions.” She looks nervous as she bites her lip.

“You want me to go with you?”

She considers it for a moment. “Actually, could you hang around and help people carry stuff to the tables, if they need it?”

“Sure. I can do that.” I pick up the berry pie, along with the ingredients list. “Let me buy this one first.”

“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

She starts to leave when I call out, “I can give you a ride home later. If you want. Since, you know, you don’t have your bike.”

She turns around. Smiles. “You love rubbing that silly bike in my face, don’t you?”

“No. No! I love your bike. It’s a two-for-one, remember? Like this pie. It’ll be delicious andit’s for a good cause. I’m all about the two-for-ones, I promise.”

“Like, you give me a ride home andyou get my charming company for ten minutes?”

I nod. Maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Exactly!”

“Okay,” she says. “You’re on.”

I practically skip as I make my way over to pay for the pie. Until I realize that after the bake sale today, we won’t really have an excuse to hang out anymore.

I wonder if she’s a good student? Maybe she could help me with some homework.

77
Lauren

 
Cupcakes
and fruit tarts.
 
 
Brownies
and scones.
 
 
Cookies
and lemon bars.
 
 
Éclairs
and pies.
 
 
Hundreds
of sweet treats.
 
 
All of them
sold.
 
 
Jars filled
with money.
 
 
Big bills
and checks.
 
 
An anonymous
donation
 
 
for ten thousand
bucks.
 
 
Joy and
gratitude.
 
 
Pats on
the back.
 
 
Small-town
living.
 
 
Not so bad
after all.
 

78
Colby

Holy double chocolate brownies, Batman.

It’s insane. How much money we raised. How many people came. How empty the tables are now that it’s over.

Benny’s family stopped by and were blown away by what they saw. It felt like the whole town came out to buy baked goods and donate money. Russ bought a big triple-layer chocolate fudge cake and said they’d take it to Benny to celebrate. He was moved to a rehab center in Lansford last week, but Mrs. Lewis said this extra money will allow her to take a leave of absence so they can go to Atlanta for at least a couple of months.

I’m thankful he’ll be going. And yet, when I think of him getting on that plane and leaving here for an unknown length of time, it hurts like hell.

I want him to go.

But, God, I don’t want him to go.

Lauren’s aunt and uncle volunteer to get the money in order and take it to the bank so they can give Benny’s family a big, fat check.

When Lauren gets in my truck, she leans back in the seat, closes her eyes, and says, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” I concur.

She rolls her head toward me and opens her eyes. “It was awesome, huh? I’m so proud of us.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe now people will stop thinking the worst about me,” she says. “About why I’m here, you know?”

“I’m sure they will but try not to worry about what people think.” I swallow hard, trying to get the nerve to do what I want to do next. “Do you, um, have to get home right away? I thought maybe we could make a stop first.”

She shrugs. “Okay. Can I borrow your phone and let my aunt know?”

While she calls, I drive. The clouds have cleared, and it’s pretty nice out. Now that it’s October, I know it won’t be like this much longer. I look over at Lauren, and I think, in more ways than one.

I want to make the most of this. Whatever “this” is.

I pull into the Safeway parking lot. She raises her eyebrows. Before she has time to say anything, I tell her, “I need to run in and get something. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I hustle through the store, grabbing what I need, and make it back to the truck in record time.

“Well, that was fun,” she teases. “Probably didn’t need to call my aunt and tell her I’d be late for a stop at Safeway.”

I start up the truck. “Okay, if you want to get technical, we’re making two stops. That was the first one. Now on to the second one.”

She looks at the grocery bag sitting between us. “Can I take a peek?”

“No!” I grab the bag and pull it close to me. “You’ll find out soon enough, since we’ll be there in about two minutes.” I look at her. “Patience, grasshopper. It’s a small town, remember?”

“How could I forget, after I just met almost everyone who lives here at the bake sale? I still can’t believe how many people showed up.”

I look at her after I pull out onto the road. “Yeah, you just witnessed the best of small-town life. We come together and pull for our own, that’s for sure.”

“It’s really great,” she says, staring out the window. “It felt good to be a part of something so important. Even if it wasn’t for very long.”

“That’s why people love football, you know. Why they love coming out to the games and supporting our team.”

She looks at me. Gives my leg a little shove. “But football isn’t thatimportant.”

“Maybe not to you. But to a lot of people, it is.”

“Why? I don’t get it.”

I shrug. “I have a few different theories. Mostly, I think it’s because for a little while every week, folks are able to forget about their dull lives. They have something to believe in. Something to hope for. And it feels good to believe and hope.”

“But, Colby, it’s just a game. Why don’t they find something in their own lives to believe in and hope for?”

I smile. “ Becauseit’s just a game. Putting your hopes on something like a football team rather than yourself is so much easier, right? And if things don’t go the way you want, well, there’s always next year. Always another chance to try again. To hope again. But in life? Sometimes we only get one chance.”

She doesn’t say anything after that.

Not a thing.

And I wonder what that means.

79
Lauren

 
I know all about
that thing
called hope.
 
 
Except lately,
hope and I
get along
about as well
as hawks and mice.
 
 
Sometimes
I find myself hoping
my mom will call me
and ask me to come home.
 
 
Other times
I’m hoping
I can just stay here,
with a family
I’ve grown to love.
 
 
My hopes change
along with my moods,
208
depending on what
I choose to remember
on any given day.
 
 
Maybe what I hope for
most of all
is that everything
simply works out
for the best,
even if I don’t know
exactly what that looks like.
 
 
Colby’s right.
It’d be a lot easier
to put my hopes
on a football team.
 

80
Colby

When i pull into the parking lot of Queen Elizabeth Elementary School, Lauren gives me a funny look.

“This is where Benny and I met,” I explain as I park the truck. I notice the front doors are still a bright yet inviting blue, like they’ve always been. I turn the engine off. “He moved here in the third grade. At lunchtime, he sat down next to me. I watched as he ate his hamburger and Tater Tots in about fifteen seconds flat.” I laugh. “Man, that guy stillloves Tater Tots. Anyway, when he was done, he turned and looked at me. And I’ll never forget what happened next.”

“What?” Lauren asks. I love how truly interested she is in this story.

“Benny said, ‘This is my favorite part of school.’ And then I said, ‘You mean eating lunch?’ And he said, ‘Nah. After we eat. Going to recess. Playing with friends.’ And I said, without thinking, because I was a stupid eight-year-old boy, ‘But you’re new. You don’t have any friends.’ He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, ‘Maybe not yet. But I will. You’ll see. Now hurry up and eat so we can go play.’”

I swallow hard. I remember the moment so clearly, it’s like it happened an hour ago. “And he was right. By the end of recess, we were friends. But you know what’s really amazing to me? He could have sat anywhere that day. But it’s like God knew, and he sat him next to me.”

“Knew what?” she asks.

“Knew we needed each other.”

It hangs in the air for a second, and I want to say, I still need him. Benny. My best friend. And that I miss him like crazy.

But I don’t need to say it. She knows. How can she not know?

I quickly open my door. “Come on. We’re gonna go have a pie picnic. On the playground.”

She smiles. “A pie picnic! Awesome.”

I grab the sheet and the pie while Lauren carries the grocery bag. We walk around to the back of the school and stand there, scanning the place for a good place to sit.

“Over here,” she says. I follow her like she asked, all the way to the top of the play structure.

I point to a steering wheel that juts out from one side. “Who’s gonna fly the spaceship? Or whatever this is we’re on.”

“Don’t worry,” Lauren says as she takes the sheet tucked under my arm and spreads it out. “The driver’s there; you just can’t see him. We’re in good hands.”

“Oh. Right. An invisible driver. I forgot that’s a possibility on playground spaceships. What’s his name?”

She opens the bag and takes out the paper plates and plastic silverware I bought at the store. “Uh, how about Rain Man? After all, he’s an excellent driver.”

“Rain Man?”

“Yeah. You’ve never seen that movie?”

I take a seat on the sheet and set the pie down in the middle. “No. I haven’t. What’s it about?”

Lauren sits across from me. “Two brothers who didn’t know each other existed until their father died. One of them is autistic with lots of quirks. The other is kind of a selfish jerk. They go on a road trip together, and the asshole brother becomes less so, and really comes to love his quirky brother.” She picks up a knife and starts slicing the pie. “In the end, these two people, who were pretty lonely before they met, end up with something they didn’t even know they were missing.” She looks at me. “It’s sweet, right? It won a bunch of Oscars. It’s one of my mom’s favorites.”

I nod. “I’ll have to check it out. You know, you haven’t said much about your mom. If you want to talk about her, about what happened or whatever, I hope you know you can.”

She puts a piece of pie on a plate and passes it to me.

“Thanks, but there isn’t a whole lot to say.”

I fish a fork out of the box of utensils. “Do you miss her?”

Another piece of pie goes on a plate. “Not really,” she says too quickly. Her eyes float up to meet mine. “Well . . . maybe once in a while.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. If she isn’t ready to tell me more, I don’t want to push her. I simply say, “Yeah. I get that. It sneaks up on you sometimes. The missing, I mean.”

She’s pushing her pie around on her plate with her fork, and I want so much to lean over and take her face in my hands so I can kiss her. Make her feel better. Because whatever happened, I can tell she’s hurting. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit it, maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, and yeah, maybe she wants to forget it ever happened, whatever “it” is. But I see it in her eyes – she’s having a hard time.

“You know, Benny said something to me recently,” I tell her. “He said we gotta take the bad stuff with the good. That it’s just how life is. If you think about it, no one has it good all the time. You don’t, I don’t, Benny certainly doesn’t. So maybe we have to just hold on and believe that eventually good stuff will come out of the bad stuff. Somehow. Some way.”

She tilts her head just a little. Her eyes narrow. It’s like she’s studying me. “Do you think something good will come out of Benny getting hurt?”

I think of all the people, an entire town, coming together to help one guy.

I think of Lauren and me, sitting here, talking and eating pie together.

I think of Benny. Everything he’s been through. His unknown future.

“If I want to get out of bed every morning, I haveto believe something good will come of it.”

I pick up my plate and take a bite of the pie Lauren and I made together last night.

“And who knows,” I add. “Maybe something already has.”

81
Lauren

 
I imagine Rain Man
standing at the wheel,
taking us up,
higher and higher.
 
 
We travel,
through stardust
and moonbeams,
to a galaxy
all our own.
 
 
A million miles
away from here.
 
 
From the land
of regrets and
of missing
and of longing to fit in.
 
 
We’ll belong
to the universe,
and the universe
will belong to us.
 
 
It’s a long way
to go.
 
 
I wonder,
how far
do you have to go
to really leave
the past
 
 
behind?
 

82
Colby

“I wish it’d been me,” I tell her.

Her head shoots up, like a rocket, eyes glaring at me. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though. Football might have been Benny’s ticket to college. I know I’m supposed to think positive. I’m supposed to believe that he can come out of this better and stronger than before. And I’m trying, Lauren. I’m really trying. But if it’d been me, I wouldn’t miss football that much.” I swallow. “But with Benny, it’s, like, all he thinks about.”

She sets her pie down and gets to her feet. She goes to the railing and stands there, looking out toward the soccer field. “You just said you have to believe something good will come out of it. Maybe something will. For Benny, I mean. We don’t know. Maybe he’ll meet the girl of his dreams down in Atlanta. Maybe someday he’ll get married and have beautiful babies. Maybe he’ll become a politician. A good one, you know? One who works to make the world a better place.” She turns her head toward me. “You don’t know what comes next. No one knows, really, but anything’s possible. Isn’t it?”

The way she’s fighting for him, fighting for his happiness, when she’s never even met the guy, makes my heart feel like it’s just doubled in size. I stand up and go over to where she’s standing. I lean on the railing and look out at the playground.

“Benny and me,” I say. “We’d run around out there, chasing balls or chasing girls or, half the time, chasing each other. Since high school, it feels like all we’ve done is chase that damn championship football title.”

“That’s a lot of chasing,” she says.

“And here I am, feeling like I should be chasing something and instead all I’m doing is running away from everything.” I shake my head. “Is that messed up or what?”

She touches my arm. I can feel her looking at me. “So stop running. Just stand still for a while, and see what happens.”

I rise, straight and tall, and turn so I’m facing Lauren. She’s right there. I could take her in my arms. I could lean down and kiss her. I could stop running away from my feelings, from my father, from Benny even.

I could.

But I don’t.

Not so much because of my dad or the team or any of that, but because Lauren and I made an agreement. I don’t want to mess this up. How comfortable we are. How easy it is. And maybe, right now, I need a friend more than I need anything else. Who knows – with everything she’s not telling me, maybe she does too.

So I quickly turn and point at our abandoned plates. “Hey, check it out. You’ve hardly eaten any of our pie. Are you trying to tell me something? Does it suck? God, did we sell a bunch of awful pies to people? They’re going to hate us.”

“They’re not going to hate us.”

I reach down, pick up her plate and fork, and hand it to her. She takes a bite. “It’s really good, you know,” she says.

“I’m curious. Do you still like bake sales after all that work?”

“Yep.” She smiles. “Maybe even more than I did before.”

I could say the same thing about my feelings for Lauren. Instead, I eat my pie.

83
Lauren

 
As we’re preparing to leave,
six or seven crows
fly in and land in a tree
across the field.
 
 
They are beautiful
and spooky
all at the same time.
 
 
“A murder of crows,” I tell Colby.
“Some view the appearance
of them as an omen of death.”
 
 
They sit in the tree, cawing.
 
 
“Not the death of a person,” he says.
“Let’s say the death of . . .”
 
 
“Despair,” I reply.
 
 
“Yeah,” he says.
“And fear.”
 
 
I start to ask
what he’s afraid of,
exactly.
 
 
But ironically,
I’m afraid
to ask.
 

84
Colby

When i get home, Gram and Grandpa are watching the news.

“You just missed it,” Gram says. “They had a short piece on your bake sale today.”

“It sounds like it was a huge success,” Grandpa says. “Sure were a lot of people there when we stopped by.”

I take a seat on the sofa, suddenly realizing how tired I feel. “Yeah, it went really well. Thanks for coming.”

Gram smiles. “Our pleasure. Your dad was there too. Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I did. He said he made a nice-size donation.”

“So Benny will go to Atlanta, then?” Gram asks.

I swallow hard. “Yeah. Not sure when. Soon, I guess.”

Gram stands up. “I’ll get dinner ready.” She looks at me. “I’m proud of you, Colby. We all are. This has been a difficult time, and you’ve really shown the community what a fine young man you are.”

“We’re going to have pie to celebrate, right, Judith?” Grandpa says.

Gram smiles. “You bet. I bought a beautiful berry pie for us to have tonight. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Of all the things she could have bought. It makes me laugh. “Sounds great.”

85
Lauren

 
At home,
there is pizza
and bowls of Bugles
and sparkling cider
and cake.
 
 
Three cakes, actually.
 
 
“I couldn’t resist,” Erica says
when I see them and laugh.
 
 
Uncle Josh
pours the cider
into champagne flutes.
 
 
Little hands hold
fancy glasses, and
their eyes are big
and bright, as if they’ve
been given magic
to sip on.
 
 
“To Lauren,” Josh says.
“You did an amazing thing today.”
 
 
“To Lauren,” Erica says.
 
 
Clink,
clink,
clink.
The sound of our glasses.
 
 
Love,
love,
love.
The sound of my heart.
 

86
Colby

After dinner, I grab the laptop and go to my room.

I’ve got emails from the teams trying to recruit me, but I delete them, unread.

Coach has sent me a link, with a note:

I know I’ve told you boys to stay away from news articles and the like. That it doesn’t do you any good to be reading about what others think about you, because the most important thing is what you think of yourself. I truly believe that worrying about what other people think will only mess with your head in the worst possible way. But I’m making an exception this one time. This article is one you should read. Great game last night, Pynes. Keep it up!

Coach Sperry

I click on the link. And then I start reading.

The name of the article is THE POWER OF BELIEVING.

When I woke up yesterday morning and saw the weather report, my first thought was, “It’ll be a good night for some high school football.” But it was my second thought that surprised me: “You should go watch the Willow High Eagles play.” Why did it surprise me? Because it’s a two-hour drive from where I live, and I have my pick of at least a dozen games here in the Greater Portland area on any given Friday night during football season.

But I’d read about the accident that almost killed their guard Benjamin Lewis. And I’d read about how the team keeps fighting, week after week, to keep their playoff dreams alive. And I’d read specifically about Lewis’s best friend, Colby Pynes, and his struggle on and off the field to keep going without his friend by his side.

Something pulled me to Willow last night, and while the thought initially surprised me, I’ve learned to follow those callings. They usually happen for a reason, and I’m often rewarded in ways I don’t expect. And so it was as I found myself sitting in the bleachers at the Willow Eagles football field.

The story here is not the game, which was good, but not spectacular. The Eagles beat the Panthers, 24–17. The Eagles clearly have talent. They also have drive and ambition, and anyone watching them knows they work hard.

But it was the two words they said before they took the field that caught my attention. “I believe,” they yelled.

I turned to the person sitting next to me and asked what it was all about. The older gentleman smiled and said, “It’s the team’s motto. They carry around cards that say I BELIEVE. It’s on a sign in their locker room. And they say it before every game.”

“Are you related to one of the players?” I asked him.

He told me he was. He was Colby Pynes’s grandfather. We talked about the accident involving his best friend and how Pynes has spent every spare minute at the hospital in the weeks that have followed. “But he never let his team down,” Mr. Pynes told me. “He didn’t let anyone down.”

As I sat there, I tried to imagine what that must be like. To have your best friend and teammate suddenly ripped away from you, in the blink of an eye. I wondered where you find the strength to keep going, at the ripe young age of seventeen.

I had one more question for Mr Pynes. “Do you think those two words have helped him through this? I mean, does he truly believe?”

When Mr. Pynes looked at me this time, he had tears in his eyes. He said, “Yes. I think Colby’s learned that the most important thing is to keep the faith. To believe the impossible can become possible. Every time the Eagles win a game this season, it’s against all odds really. Hearts are broken, and anyone who has tried to play a sport, all in, with a broken heart, knows how hard it is. But that’s the thing. Every time this team wins a game, they’re reminded that anything is possible. And they realize it applies to their friend and teammate, Benny Lewis, as well. With each game, the belief grows even stronger.”

At that point, I told Mr. Pynes who I was and got his permission to quote him. On the two-hour drive home, I thought about what he’d said. And I thought about what I had witnessed on and off the field.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I saw a power last night that cannot really be described in words. The power of believing. But more than that, the power of love, for a teammate and a friend. When you combine the two, well, I’ll just say it – anything is possible. And I fully expect to see the Willow High Eagles playing in the state championship game.

I left that game last night a believer. One hundred percent.