Super Over You

by Jamie Knight

  “No,” I lied, feeling all too exposed. “I actually had a really amazing and relaxing afternoon.”

  As I talked, I walked to my mirror and removed my robe to look at my naked body. Why I felt the need to do that, I had no idea. What was I looking for? Did I feel exposed? Was I wanting to be exposed? I didn’t know.

  I thought it was just one of those unconscious things you do when you walk and chat on the phone at the same time, but I looked at my full body as she spoke. It was like I was asking a question and somehow the truth was on the other side of that mirror.

  I had stopped talking, so Roxie was trying to get my attention by pretending to guess the reason I was calling her.

  “You must have just removed the mask, I take it? And you were calling to give me all the juicy details about the exciting encounter of putting on and taking off a face mask. I bet it was green. Am I getting close? Ding, ding, ding…”

  I laughed but didn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting that she was right— I had called her for a reason. But, at least by then I was ready to dive into this…

  “So, guess who called me?”

  “I knew there was something. Who?”

  “David Ward.”

  “Jesus. What? Why is it every call you make to me has the name ‘Ward’ in it these days?”

  “That’s not true. I just told you— I called to tell you about the amazing face mask experience.”

  “Right as the tease, the opening segment, so you could get to the lead story, which is all about Ward. So, what the hell did that old geezer want? Don’t tell me. He wants you now. After his son bedded you, deflowered the lovely maiden by robbing you of your virginity, bedded you again and again and let’s not mention the anal phase, and then dumped you. Oh, what a perv Mr. W is.”

  “Deflowered? Roxie? Dramatic much?”

  She laughed and snorted and then followed with, “Well, I was painting a picture, a scenario of events, if you will. So, continue, yes, why did the old geezer ring you up?”

  “And by the way, he never dumped me.”

  “Mr. W.? I didn’t know you dated him.”

  “Roxie! I wasn’t talking about him. But, by the way, he was never a perv to me.”

  “Okay, okay, I know. So, what? Well why did the non-perv call?”

  “Well, not really. We dumped each other.”

  “Okay, who cares. We’re beyond that. Get to the meat of the story. I am getting married in a few months. At this rate, I’ll be late for the chapel because I’ll still be waiting to hear you out. Spill, girl.”

  I grabbed a sweatshirt and sweat pants from out of my laundry room as I talked, and threw it over my naked self. I suddenly felt chilly, now that my house wasn’t hot.

  Roxie and I spent the rest of the hour chatting. I told her how Mr. W. needed my help and how I felt somewhat emotional at the notion of Marvin having loved me as Mr. W. had alleged.

  Roxanne wrapped her virtual arms around me and loved me as she always had every other time. She told me that all of this was normal, and the fact that I had residual feelings after such a transformative relationship reappeared in this way, even if he and I were no longer together.

  I thought that answer was very right on and quite satisfying in a way that allowed me the freedom to feel what I felt. At that point, feeling quite safe and comfortable in the loving care of my sister-friend, I told her I had agreed to help Mr. W. and naturally, in Roxie style, she added a line from our favorite movie, Ghost, only replacing the Molly reference with my name.

  “Oh no, Livvy, you in trouble in girl.”

  Clearly, her support began and ended with the caveat that I stay separate in every way from the Wards. In other words, sure, feel what I felt, but from afar. Then she concluded with…

  “Have you admitted it to yourself, then?”

  “Admitted what?”

  “That you have feelings, Olivia? Let’s be honest. Let’s call it what it is, okay? There is no way you can move forward unless you do.”

  “I never said I had feelings for Marvin, Roxie. Why do you have to take it there? It’s not like that? I agreed to help David. And I didn’t even mean it.”

  “But some part of you did. And therein lies the big question. Why? Why would you want to enmesh yourself back in with the Wards? My answer is, you still love Marvin. Jerk though he may be, he’s your jerk. You love him.”

  “Okay, Dr. Rox, I gotta run. How much do I owe you?”

  “Listen, you can deflect all you want. I bet you are even in your I-wear-big-old-man-sweatsuits-when-I-deflect-sweat suit. I know you. But sooner or later, you can lie to yourself, but the mirror doesn’t lie, Liv.”

  There was that mirror thing again looking back at me. I was done for sure.

  “At some point, we love who we love. Would I prefer you love someone who wasn’t a cocky asshole? Yes, and I would hope you could be blissfully happy with this person. But to date you have not found him, despite trying your damndest. So, it just might be that you’re stuck on Marvin and will never get past him unless you admit that and be honest with yourself. You still have feelings for Marvin.”

  Damn that girl. Why did she always have to be so right?

  “I love you, Roxie, but I’m gonna go now. I have to dye my hair. Ya know, it’s Sunday, my only time to beautify.”

  “Right. Love you back. Listen, I’ll support you in a Marvin union. If you end up getting back together with him. I won’t like it, but I’ll support you. You know I will. Whatever makes you happy, sweets.”

  “I know hon, but you are off base.”

  “Okay. Talk soon, Liv.”

  “Bye. And thanks. You are a real friend.”

  “I know.”

  With that, I tore off my old man sweat suit and put on a beautiful negligee. I walked into the bedroom and sat facing the master suite bathroom.

  I could see my reflection in the white satin gown looking back at me from the side vanity mirrors. I could see the shape of my breast and my nipple, my body just as curvy as it always was, and still relatively young.

  I had everything. I had a good teaching job. I had dated guys after Marvin and I broke up and I would date again. I didn’t need him. Rox wasn’t right.

  Still looking at my reflection, I lifted my gown and touched my pussy, just barely with my hand. I closed my eyes to see Marvin in my mind, ever so gently licking me. My legs opening wider.

  I rubbed a little more and opened my eyes to see my reflection masturbating gently as I fantasized about my beautiful boyfriend. I touched my pert nipple and winced a little and suddenly Marvin was on top of me. We were in his convertible after he won the Thanksgiving home game.

  I was in my cheer skirt and he was so wildly eating me out I was moaning like it hurt but it was perfect. I rubbed harder and leaned back on my bed, catching another glance of my body in the vanity mirrors and I felt Marvin push back the convertible seat and mount me like I was a giant stallion and he was riding me bareback.

  I remember hearing the remnants of the band playing victory march tunes and the lights of the stadium coming on over the car as we fucked, hidden away in a parking area that almost no one frequented. He thrust his cock in me hard and groaned.

  My legs were so far apart I felt like they were disconnected from my hips. I thrust my pelvis into his and uncharacteristically at that time said, “Oh Jesus, fuck me. Harder, harder,” as I panted like a greyhound on a straight run for the finish line.

  Marvin hit it harder and he grabbed my breast under my cheer shirt and I thought my orgasm would send me into another dimension. I couldn't breathe. I cried, and huffed; I scratched his back and he groaned.

  “Oh, God. Oh God, babe, I’m coming. Oh God, Liv. Fuck, Yeah. Yeah. I love you.”

  And with that, he came all over my white and purple cheer uniform right there in the car. We lay there in the silence of our moment, while in the distance the tubas roared victory songs. I turned my head for a spell of relief and thought about how much I loved him.


  As I lay there in the present so many years later, splayed out in my white satin gown fully aroused, I came all over again, thinking of Marvin and those memories. I came while looking at my intoxicated image in the mirror. It seemed like every time I fantasized, the climax as always, was ultimately, Marvin. Always and forever Marvin.

  I pulled my gown down and stared at my alabaster skin, and the clean looking refreshed face looking back at me. It was flawless after the green mask, clean as I’d seen it in months, all except for the salty tear that streamed down my left cheek now.

  I hated Marvin at this moment, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Roxie was right? Did I hate him because I still loved him?

  Chapter 20

  Marvin

  The fans in the stands were chanting “Boot the Ward, Boot the Ward.”

  I tried to ignore it. The fans always seemed to turn on me when I needed them. The sports fans weren’t the most loyal bunch. You might be a hero one day, but as soon as you throw one incomplete too many, they turn like rotten mayo.

  That was the state of things. I couldn’t get my head anywhere near in the game. I’d even consulted with a team sports psychologist. Not that I made that broadcast news.

  I’d told only one person, Greg. And that was probably one too many. But I was desperately trying to get my focus back, to get the edge back, to smell and taste the win like I once had, to be hungry again, but to avail.

  I felt my whole career slipping away. As the swell of the Dallas fans grew to almost a fervor, I threw a pass as I was being rushed by the biggest, meanest forward I’d seen in my entire career.

  I took the sack and thought, this is it. I’m not moving. I’ll never recover. I can hear the violins playing.

  Struggling since the wind had been knocked out of me, I felt a hand pull me up, and saw that it was my old teammate. Now he played for Dallas. Still, I was grateful. I grabbed it and leaned into him. The ringing in my ear mixed with the roar of the crowd.

  He leaned in and said, “You here with us, bud?”

  And the look on his face was one of pity. He was feeling fucking sorry for me.

  Honestly, I had become accustomed to fickle fans. Sport had played its many tricky games with me on a variety of occasions. Most assuredly there were days when I thought I’d leave the field in glory and I left instead in disgrace. But that used to be atypical.

  For sure, the coach had gotten me riled so many times I’d lost count. Still, not one time, never, never, had I seen pity on another player’s face as he stared into my eyes after a play.

  It cut me to the core. I felt at that moment like the biggest failure after a lifetime of dedication to the sport.

  I was reduced to nothing. I shook it off even though I felt like Holyfield sans ear, still in the ring staring down the monster that was Tyson.

  “Yeah. Never better, Jonas. Never better.”

  Jonas smacked me on my backside and I heard the time out being called. The coach was pulling me out of the game.

  The crowd went crazy, delirious with excitement that their chant had worked. As I walked off the field, looking at the faces of all these hateful fans laughing and pumping their “get-him-out” fist gestures at me, I remembered the first time I saw Olivia cheering on the sidelines for me.

  It was just after our first date. I was smitten. She was so sweet and not like any other girl I’d known. It was the second game of the season and I had just made what would turn out to be the winning pass. I looked over to the left side of the field as Reggie ran it down the open line for fifty yards to a touchdown.

  As soon as he hit, I saw little Olivia’s arms fly up before all the other cheerleaders. She jumped and leaped and screamed, waving her silver pom-poms and chanting, “Ward, Ward, he’s our man…” and “Run Reggie Run, you’re on fire, nobody can catch you. Y’all retire. Ward, Ward, he’s our winner, if you think you can beat him, chicken dinner.”

  Honestly, we had the stupidest cheers, but she made them work. I just remember feeling so proud. Like she loved me or at least really liked me. I felt like I could have thrown the ball two yards and she would have been proud and would have cheered just as loudly. I walked off tonight feeling alone, sore, with no one there for me.

  Recalling the pity look staring back at me, I felt my knees give slightly beneath me. I told myself silently to keep it together. But it mattered. Why was no one there? No one else was good enough to be there in my life, cheering me on. No one else ever had been.

  Sure, even though I had lost my edge, a lot of girls didn’t even truly care about me when I had had it together. All they seemed to care about was my American Express card. Even my nanny was out for my money, no doubt. My dad was right.

  I couldn’t help but think, there in the crisp air, my knees threatening to pop out of their sockets, on the long walk of shame to the side lines, that if things had been different, would Olivia be there for me?

  If there had been no Candy, no one else, and it was Liv as it should have been, as it always rightfully should have been, would she be loving me anyway right now, even though I had been knocked down like a fool?

  Then I argued with myself.

  Damn, Ward, that was a quite sack. You musta taken a knock to the old brain, buddy.

  I concluded, “no,” she probably would not be here for me either. Even though I knew she would have been — I was just throwing myself a pity party.

  Or maybe I didn’t want to admit that I had let go of the best thing to have ever happened to me, back when I was young and dumb.

  Ward, you gotta be a hero every time to be worthy of the parade even once. Isn’t that what your old man used to say?

  Then I heard the coach yell some vulgar bullshit chain of profanity-laced gibberish, all directed at me, but the ringing in my ear was drowning it out. Thank goodness for tiny little miracles.

  I sat in a pool of my own blood, sweat and tears and felt really fucking sorry for myself. Then I went far away somewhere as I pretended to watch the game I cared so much about.

  And as I looked at the crowds behind me, I saw beautiful Liv in my mind, cheering me on.

  I was still attracted to her, after all these years. Yeah, my brain innards took a beating, but I knew the truth. She would have still loved me, would have still been by my side even when I fucked up. I couldn’t figure out why. But it didn’t matter.

  In the third quarter, the coach decided to put me back in and I thought, screw you all. I am injured, and you all don’t give a hill of beans about all the good I’ve done for the organization.

  So, I decided the gloves were off. I’d play my game, not the coach’s game of finesse, not the plays he was famous for. I was going to do it my way.

  The truth is that I wasn’t fit to be back in the game and no doctor bothered to check that out. I knew Dallas was going to send Godzilla, the God of all forwards, to ruin me, so I needed to play really rough. So, I ran the ball and instead of throwing the pass, I head butted three guys and took out two in the knees on the way down the field.

  At one point, I felt my own clock rocked again. I was about to go down, so the last guy I saw, I pulled his helmet and face guard and nearly spun his head like Linda Blair.

  Did I gain yards? Hell yeah, but the problem was that the ref called me on unnecessary roughness. Every part of me wanted to scream, Have you not seen Godzilla, the god? He is a wall.

  But I refrained. And I was out. This time, grace wasn’t even in the equation.

  I stormed off the field, threw my mask at some team manager, and hollered, “Fuck y’all, I’m done.”

  “Son, you keep this up and you’ll be done, alright,” my coach shouted back. “Now, shut your pie hole and act like a fucking professional NFL player before I clock you myself.”

  I kicked the helmet down the field and it hit one of our rookie kickers in the shin. He let out an offended yelp.

  Oh please, that was probably the most action he’d seen all season, I thought.

  Every
one was acting like none of them enjoyed the drama. They loved it. And I was done. The assistant coach told me it was likely that I’d be fine and most certainly suspended for unsportsmanlike behavior towards his own teammates.

  “Fuck y’all, just like I said.”

  I stormed out of the arena. The crowd went ballistic.

  We lost that game, no big surprise, and no thanks to my screwed up playing. It was all over ESPN.

  Sasha called and just had to let me know at least twenty times that I needed to get my head out of my ass and back in the game. She told me it was becoming an embarrassment.

  I said nothing. For once, I was feeling as if she was right. Even though she wasn’t my coach and wasn’t my girlfriend or wife and had no business trying to give me unsolicited advice on my football career, she was right.

  There wasn’t much I could have come back with to prove her wrong.

  Chapter 21

  Marvin

  The next day at practice, feeling nauseous and quite frankly, crippled, I informed the team doctor that I needed to go. But the guys all knew I was leaving because I had received a call that there was another issue with Kylie at school.

  Most of them wouldn’t even look at me. I didn’t care. They all had baby mammas and then some. Could I help it that I accidentally picked one who was a drug addict?

  I hobbled off the field and not a one of them said, “Later,” or “Take care, Ward.”

  It turned out the school was just having a Halloween pageant and Kylie sliced her finger on a pair of scissors while she was getting ready to paste some cut outs. No big thing, but still I understood they have to call the parents and inform us.

  It wasn’t Olivia who called me, which made me feel a bit down. I sure could stand to hear her voice right about now, even though I knew I didn’t deserve it. Instead, it was the school nurse.

  She did tell me they reached out to Candy, but it just kept going to voicemail and apparently Sasha didn’t answer, either. I was reaching the end of my tether.