by Tia Siren
''The shower helped. Thanks for looking out for me. I'm my own worst enemy sometimes. I don't know why I hang around with Cora and the others. I guess I'm short of self-confidence and let them trample all over me.'' She took a sip of coffee and made a satisfied noise as it worked it's way down her throat.
''You're way too good for them. You are more intelligent and way more beautiful than any of the cheerleaders. You're not the cheerleader type.''
''And what is the cheerleader type?''
''Well, they are normally outgoing women who like being the center of attention. A lot of them sleep around and drink too much. You're not like that at all.'' Sam reached into a cupboard and took out a packet of cornflakes. Lizzie shook her head when he offered her some.
''How do you see me?'' she asked
''Wow that's a hard question. Let me see. You're very beautiful and highly intelligent.''
''Good start,'' Lizzie joked.
''You are sensitive, and you have a lot of inhibitions and for some reason, you don't choose to be friends with people of your own intelligence. You hang around with people who don't understand you.'' He turned on the gas and put the frying pan on the flame. ''For example, they bully you because you don't screw around. What kind of so-called friends are those?''
Lizzie looked at him. ''How old are you Sam? If you don't mind me asking.''
''Thirty-nine.''
''And why aren't you married. You are far too handsome to be alone.''
''You're trying to divert attention away from what I was telling you,'' Sam said waving a spatula around.
''Okay. So I'm, insecure and don't choose my friends well. I heard you.''
''I don't like people bullying you. In fact, I hate it. You are worth a hundred times what that slut Cora is worth.''
''Wow. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you, Sam. That's made me feel so good.''
''You should tell yourself that a few times before you decided to hang around with her and those other pricks.''
''I've changed my mind, the bacon smells so good, do you mind if I have some?''
''Sure. There's plenty.'' Sam put three extra rashers in the frying pan and pushed them around with the spatula.
Lizzie looked at him. He was about six feet tall and had the faintest signs of gray in his dark hair. He obviously still worked out because his upper body looked strong and there was no evidence of any of the fat that can creep up on people in middle age.
''What about you Sam? Aren't you lonely without a partner?''
''Sometimes. I've had a few girlfriends, but after my divorce, I'm a bit frightened to commit again. It's so easy to get it wrong.''
''I guess. I'm only twenty-one, so I haven't had the chance to get divorced yet.''
''It's an exercise you can do without, I can tell you.''
''Did it hurt you?''
''We're getting into very personal stuff now,' he said taking a drink of orange juice.
''Sorry.''
''No it's okay. Yes, it was painful. We just came to the conclusion that we weren't suited. We didn't fall out; we just made a sensible decision.''
''What about kids?''
''Didn't have any. I wanted to, but she didn't. I should have asked her that before we got married, but I was young. She was also so hot; I guess I just followed my dick.''
''It's never too late for a man.''
''Physiologically no. But if I had a kid now, by the time he was at college I'd be sixty.'' Sam slid the bacon from the pan onto a plate and added a piece of bread. ''Here, eat.''
''Thanks. Well, I think you'd make a great dad.''
Sam watched her eat. ''So what are you going to do about your friends now we've had this conversation?''
''I'm quitting being a cheerleader for a start. Maybe I'll join a legal studies group or something.''
After she'd finished eating, Sam cleaned up and packed his bag for the day ahead. ''I can't offer you a ride, we walked home last evening,'' he said.
''No problem. Let's walk to campus together.''
They left Sam's apartment and headed towards the tower that was Westchester's main building.
''You live so close to work, it's great,'' Lizzie said.
''I hate sitting in traffic, so being so close is really an advantage.''
''Sam I've really enjoyed talking to you,'' she said as they stood at a place where they would go their own ways. '' Can we do it again?''
''What?''
''Meet up and talk.''
''I'd like nothing more, but I don't think it's a good idea. You're a student, and I'm staff. It wouldn't look good.''
Lizzie scowled. ''I suppose so. Well, coach, it was a pleasure.''
''For me too.''
*****
Three weeks later Sam was sitting at home wondering whether he should quit as coach. He was on the worst run he'd ever been. They'd lost the last four games, and he was beginning to doubt his abilities. Maybe he was getting too old to relate to these young college kids, he thought. They didn't seem to respect him like the other teams had. They certainly weren't prepared to walk through fire for him. As soon as things got tough most of them feigned injuries or avoided heavy tackles.
Then there was something else that had been bothering him. Something he'd tried to put to the back of his mind but couldn't. It wasn't right, but he couldn't help it.
''Lizzie, it's Sam,’' he said. ''I got your number from Cora, I hope you don't mind me calling.''
''Sam, hi. Er....no, it's great you called.''
''How are you?'' he asked.
''Okay. I'm not missing being a cheerleader; that's for sure. I've joined a reading club. We meet on Wednesdays; I love it.''
''Great. I wondered if you wanted to get something to eat? Talk?''
Lizzie didn't have to think twice. She'd often thought about the evening he'd saved her from having sex with Roger, and the morning after when they'd talked so openly. ''Yes I'd love to.''
''Friday?''
''Fine,'' she said.
When Friday arrived, Sam was surprised how nervous he felt. He had to admit to himself he felt like a schoolboy about to go on his first date. He was thirty-nine and Lizzie twenty-one, why was he nervous? The only conclusion he came to, and it was one he didn't really want to admit, was that he liked her more than he knew. He wasn't given to dreaming, but every time he closed his eyes, her pretty face was there.
''Wow you look different,'' he said when Lizzie walked into the Mexican restaurant.
''Is that a compliment?''
''Yes. I meant to say; you look lovely.'' Lizzie was wearing a black dress that showed off her bosom well and a pair of four-inch heels which made her almost as tall as Sam. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail giving her the kind of innocent look most men like.
''You've made an effort as well,'' she said looking at his suit.
They looked at the menu and ordered Taco's and a bottle of red wine. The restaurant was busy, but Lizzie and Sam had managed to find a table for two in an intimate corner where their conversation would go unheard.
''Why did you call me,'' Lizzie asked quizzically.
''Because I enjoyed your company for a couple of hours three weeks ago, and I wanted to see you again.''
Lizzie turned her wine glass around between thumb and forefinger. ''Last time we spoke you told me it was not right for us to meet, remember?''
Sam had thought how he would respond to her when she asked this question. ''I know. But I've been doing some thinking. Life's too short. If we get on, why not?''
''How's the team performing?'' she asked.
''Terrible. It's the worst run I've ever had. It's not a team it's a group of individuals.''
''Ah,'' Lizzie gasped as a huge plate of tacos arrived. ''If I eat all those, I'll never fit into this dress again.
''Nonsense you've got a perfect figure, a pig out now and then won't harm you, as long as you do regular exercise.''
''So what are you going to do with t
he team? How can you make it better.''
''Honestly, I have no idea. What's more, I don't care.''
'' That's not like you. Normally you can think of nothing but success.''
''I don't care because I'm with you tonight, and that's all that matters.'
''That's a nice thing to say.''
Sam looked at her face. Three weeks ago she'd looked pale, but she looked much healthier now. He liked the fullness of her lips and the soft gaze of her green, brown eyes. When she spoke her drop earrings swung from side to side, catching the light of the candle on their table.
''Can I be honest with you?'' Sam asked.
''I don't want you not to be.''
''I would like to do this more often. I like you.''
She slid her hand over the table and touched him on the arm. ''I like you too. A lot. When you rang, I was happy, elated even. I'd love it if we saw each other more often.''
''Doesn't the age gap worry you?'' he asked.
''Well, going out with an old man can have its advantages,'' she said.
''If you're going to be cheeky I'll have to deal with you like I do my players.''
''And how is that?''
''Hard.''
''I'd like that,'' Lizzie said. There was a silence, and they looked into each other's eyes. The gaze seemed to go on for a long time until Sam leaned over to her, and kissed her gently on the lips.
''Uhm, that tastes good,'' she said.
''Better than the food,'' he replied.
''So, how do you want to play this? Fast or slow?'' Lizzie asked.
''Er...what do you mean?''
''Do you want me in your bed tonight or do you want to court me some more first?''
Sam waved his fork around as if conducting an orchestra. ''You have a habit of asking difficult questions. What do you think?''
''That's unfair. You can't answer a question with a question.''
''I just did. What's you answer?'' he said.
''Okay. Let me see. On the one hand, it would be wonderful to sleep with you now. On the other hand, it would be wonderful to let the tension build. What do you think?''
Sam laughed. ''That's a great answer, that told me absolutely nothing at all. Okay, here's what I think.'' He looked around the restaurant as though checking to see no one was listening. ''I'd like to wait. Maybe it sounds old-fashioned, but I like the build up. Let's date a bit first.''
''I like that idea as well. Let's rack the tension up until we can't bear it anymore.''
''Is kissing allowed now?''
''Of course. That's part of the tension increasing process.''
*****
''Thanks for coming Sam,'' Dean Lehman said.
Sam looked at the grave looking people sitting behind the table in front of him. The hall they were in was huge. Sam remembered it dated back to eighteen thirty and was the first room ever used at the university. It was more like the banquet hall in an English castle than a room for academics. There were many coats of arms on the walls, and flags hung down from the beamed ceiling.
''Sam you know most of the people here. Collectively we are the people who make up the Ethics Committee here at Westchester,'' Dean Lehman said. He was a thin man of around sixty-five. His eyes appeared to be sunken inside his skull because his nose protruded so much. He also looked as if he needed a good meal.
''Yes, I know everyone here.''
''Good. Then I'll get straight to the point. Sam it has come to our attention that you have a relationship with a student. What do you have to say?''
''Are you referring to Lizzie Samson?''
''Yes.''
''I have been seeing her regularly for around three months.''
''Is your relationship intimate?'' the Dean asked.
''Is that any business of yours?'' Sam replied.
''The policy of the university towards staff, student relationships, is quite clear Sam. If a member of staff enters into an intimate relationship with a student, he or she should declare it.''
''Alright. We are dating but out relationship isn't intimate yet.''
''If you are dating that means it's intimate. I'm not only talking about the bedroom.'' the Dean said. ''In that case, Sam, you should have told us.''
''Alright. I'm telling you now.''
''There is also a question of abuse of power. Let me give you an example. If a male member of staff who teaches, say mathematics, begins a relationship with a female student who studies, say English literature, there is little conflict of interest. That member of staff has no professional responsibility for the student and isn't able to influence the outcome of her studies.'' The Dean paused for breath and looked around the room. ''In your case, however, it's different. Lizzie was part of the sports scene here and you the head coach.''
''She was a cheerleader. That's got nothing to do with me as a football coach,'' Sam said abruptly.
''You are the head coach here, you are responsible for everyone who has anything to do with football and that includes the cheerleaders. You were in a position of trust, and you abused it.''
''But now she's no longer a cheerleader, she hasn't been to the football field for weeks.''
''That isn't the issue. At the time you began your relationship, she was in your charge.''
''No she'd already given up being a cheerleader.'' What the hell was the Dean trying to get at, Sam thought? Lizzie wasn't a cheerleader when he'd asked her out.
''Sam, we've spoken about the matter, and we've decided to suspend you on full pay for eight weeks. After that time, you will resume your role as head coach.''
Sam sat in stunned silence. ''Do you know what I have done for this college? All the trophies I've won for you. We have one of the greatest names in college football, and all you can do is suspend me on a technicality. Well, fuck you. Fuck you all. Do what you have to do. See if I care. I resign.''
''Sam, there's no need to......''
''No, Dean, stick your job where the sun doesn't shine.''
*****
''Sam, where are you? Please pick up,'' Lizzie said desperately. ''Why are you avoiding me?''
Sam sat on the sofa and listened to Lizzie as she spoke into his answering machine. She'd rung countless times during the course of the afternoon. He looked at the empty whiskey bottle and groaned. How the hell had it come to his, he asked himself? A few weeks ago his team had been winning, and he was a happy go lucky single and well respected. Now he'd been accused of professional misconduct, and he was probably out of a job.
''Hi sis, it's me.''
''Hey Sam what's up. You sound drunk.''
''That's because I am drunk. Listen, can I come and stay with you for a few days?''
''Sure. But what about work?''
''What work. I'm out of a job.''
''Jesus Sam, are you okay. Can I do anything?''
''I'll be with you tomorrow. Okay?''
The following morning Sam ignored all the calls Lizzie had made to him during the evening and night and packed his bag. It was six am, and he wanted to leave before Lizzie had a chance to come round. He locked the door, threw his bag into the trunk of his car and set off for the five hundred mile journey to Flushing Creek, his childhood home.
The journey passed uneventfully. He stopped a couple of times to refuel and eat, both times he ignored Lizzie's frantic texts.
''Hey Davy,'' Sam shouted as he pulled into the driveway at his sister's home and saw his seven-year-old nephew sitting on the yard wall.
''Uncle Sam,'' Davey exclaimed jumping from the wall and running to Sam's car. ''How long are you staying?''
''A few days,'' Sam said as he got out of the car. ''Here, I brought something for you.'' Sam reached onto the rear seat and handed Davey a new football with the name Westchester College in it.
''Wow, thanks,'' he said and ran off to test its aerodynamic potential in the yard.
''My older brother,'' Alison exclaimed as she put her arms around Sam.
''That's quite some bump you've got
there.'' Sam put his hand on her swollen belly.
''Another six weeks and she'll be with us,'' Alison said proudly.
''That's great. How's George?''
''He's fine, working too hard as usual. But his firm is doing really well.''
Sam looked at the house his sister lived in, and could see how well her husband's business was doing. It was a large detached house with a pool and a tennis court.
''Come in and eat,'' Alison said.
After Sam had eaten, he rested for a while and talked to George when he arrived back from work. George was an accountant and a man Sam had nothing in common with at all. They managed to hold a conversation for thirty minutes before they resorted to the weather and intermittent silence.
''I'm going to the Lion to see what's going on,''Sam said at around eight.
The Lion was a music cafe in town which Sam used to frequent when he was young man.
''You're a bit too old for that aren't you?'' Alison joked.
''Thanks, sis,'' Sam shouted as he closed the door behind him.
The town looked just the same as it had twenty years ago. It was a sleepy place with around three thousand inhabitants. The Lion was on the corner of the main square, and as Sam approached it, he heard the familiar sound of jazz emanating from the door. A few people were gathered outside smoking. Sam pushed passed them and went inside. The Lion also hadn't changed much. Many of the same pictures were hanging on the walls as twenty years ago. Most of them were pictures of musicians from BB King to Jimi Hendrix.
A jazz band was playing on the stage by the rear wall. The bar was to the left and ran the length of the room. There were a few characters who Sam recognized standing at the bar. A couple of them he'd been to school with. He walked to the bar and ordered a beer. The young lady with pink and blue hair put a beer mat down in front of him and poured his drink.
''Sam?'' a woman's voice said.
''Jesus, Elvina,'' Sam said as he looked at the attractive woman standing next to him. She was about five six and had long black hair. ''You look great.''
''You don't look so bad yourself. What brings you home to Flushing Creek?''
