Two Hard

by Amy Brent

  He had little choice but to make the rounds and start greeting people. Most of them fawned over him, the men asking him about the latest game and whether he thought his team was going to the Superbowl. Men who had yelled at him when he was a boy—for smashing their pumpkins on Halloween or playing football in the street and blocking traffic—now shook his hand and treated him like he was a prince. His junior high English teacher, who'd once called him “a worthless little shit who was never going to go anywhere with his life,” came up to him, patted him on the back, and raved about how he'd always known that Cole was going to be a success.

  And then there were the girls. He recognized a few of them from his high school days: girls who had never so much as given him the time of day. Now they wanted to talk to him and catch up on old times. Others he didn't know at all, though they all said they'd met him at some point or another. The younger sister of this girl he went to school with, the cousin of some other girl who had supposedly been on the cheerleading squad, and others with vaguer connections they used as an excuse to talk to him. More than one asked him if he had a date for the wedding, but he evaded the question every time. He wasn't sure what was going on with the wedding, but he wasn't interested in going with some random girl who only cared about him because his name had been on the news a few times.

  By the time he'd made his way through most of the crowd, he realized there was one person that wasn't here. The one person he'd actually been looking forward to seeing again.

  Eventually he decided to just bite the bullet and ask about her. He corralled his sister into Dad's study and shut the door behind them so they could have some privacy. “Hey,” he said. “Some party, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She smirked and stuck her hands in her pockets. “It was supposed to be a wedding party for me, but I think most of these people just showed up to see you.”

  Her tone was teasing and playful, but Cole couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. “Sorry about that. If I'd known they were planning something like this, I would have gotten them to cancel it.”

  “Oh, sure. Like Dad would give up the chance to show off his famous son for the whole town to see.”

  Cole laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, I guess he likes having the chance to live in the spotlight.”

  He cleared his throat, then pushed forward onto the topic he really wanted to ask about. “So, hey, listen. How's your friend Amanda been? Is she coming to the wedding?”

  Michelle's expression dropped into a cold stare. “What do you care? You haven't seen her in years.”

  Cole shrugged, rubbing the back of his head and looking down at the carpet. “I dunno. I just wondered if she was going to be around. It'd be nice to catch up.”

  Michelle crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “Well, she'll be in the wedding. But I'm sure she's going to be too busy to catch up. Bridesmaid duties and all that.”

  “Hmm.” Cole rubbed his chin. “Well, maybe we can get together before the wedding. I've got nothing but free time this weekend. Any chance you can give me her number? I'd really like to get in touch with her.”

  Michelle stared him down, chewing on her lip. “Well, she just got a new phone,” she said. “I don't have the new number yet. So, I guess you're out of luck.”

  Michelle walked past him and out the door. Cole watched her go, frowning at her back. He had the feeling Michelle was lying to him, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. It wasn't like he could steal her phone and go through her contacts list.

  But now he was more determined than ever to track Amanda down. How hard could it be? They lived in a small town, and there were plenty of other people he could ask. It shouldn't be too difficult, he figured, to find a way to get into touch with her.

  Chapter 5

  Amanda worked a double on Friday, to make up for the hours she was going to lose by going to Michelle's wedding. It was a long, grueling shift, and by the end of it, her feet were so sore that she had to lean on the counter as she walked. She really wanted nothing more than to go home, stick her feet in the cheap little foot bath she'd gotten for Christmas a couple of years ago, and forget about the rest of the world. Though her shift wasn't quite over yet, and the end of the night always seemed to drag on and on.

  She was down to her last table of the night, and she was spending most of her time finishing up side work so that she'd be able to go home on time. Tonight's side work was refilling all of the ketchup bottles; the diner washed and reused the ketchup bottles to save money, and refilled them from a bulk container. She had a line of ketchup bottles set up on a table near the back, with the mostly-empty bottles turned upside-down and balanced atop others to drain ketchup into them, so the empty bottles could be washed. It was a tedious and sticky process, though she had to admit it was better than what she went through changing out the salt and pepper shakers.

  She was starting to load the emptied bottles onto a disk rack when the bell over the door sounded, announcing the arrival of another customer. She sighed and let out a low groan. Late-night customers could be some of the worst, especially when they didn't understand that half the kitchen was already being shut down, so certain items from the menu weren't available this late at night. She hauled the ketchup bottles back to the dish room, then headed up front, grabbing a menu for the guy who'd just walked in the door.

  “Hi,” Amanda said. “Just a table for one?”

  “Hey, Amanda.”

  Amanda froze in place, looking up at the guy's face. A familiar, handsome face.

  Cole.

  “What...why...?” She stared at him, then looked awkwardly around the empty dining room, brushing a strand of hair back over her ear. She had still been working up the courage to face him at the wedding itself. She was completely unprepared for him to just walk into the diner like this.

  “I heard you worked here,” Cole said. “I wanted to see you. You...you look great.”

  Amanda turned her face away. She was sure Cole was just being polite. Her uniform was stained, she smelled like soggy hash browns, and her hair was a mess. Plus she'd put on a fair bit of weight during her pregnancy, and four years of eating mostly diner food at work and frozen dinners at home hadn't done her waistline any favors. Though the smile Cole was giving her certainly seemed genuine.

  “I'm busy,” she said. “I can't...I can't really have people coming here while I work.”

  “What if I order something?” Cole sat in the first booth, giving her a playful smile. “What's good? Do you have pie?”

  Amanda shrugged, chewing on her lip. “It's not fresh. I mean, I guess it's okay.”

  “Pie sounds good then,” Cole said. “Something chocolaty? And a cup of coffee.”

  “Sure.” Amanda set the menu down and went to cut Cole a slice of the chocolate cream pie. She brought it over to him along with a cup of black coffee. Then she stood there awkwardly, playing with the strands of her apron.

  “How've you been?” Cole asked. He looked up at her, toying with his fork, not touching the pie.

  “I'm...I'm really good,” she said, forcing a smile. There was no way she was going to admit to Cole, the superstar quarterback, that she was living in poverty while raising his son all by herself. “Things have been great. Really great.”

  “Are you in school? I remember you were going to some music school. You were like, in the band, right?”

  Amanda let out a wry laugh, shaking her head. She hadn't touched a musical instrument in years. “Yeah, that umm...didn't work out.”

  The truth was, she'd been forced to drop out of the music school in her second semester. She'd managed to struggle her way through one semester even while she was pregnant with James, but after he'd been born, she'd had her hands full, and she hadn't been able to get back into classes. For a while she'd promised herself that it was only a temporary break, and that she'd get back into school when she got the chance. But it was looking more and more like that chance had long since passed her by, and her old flute was just co
llecting dust somewhere in the back of her closet.

  “Well, that's a shame,” Cole said. “So, what have you been up to? Are you...seeing anyone?”

  She shook her head. “I don't really have much time for dating.”

  “What about the wedding?” Cole flashed her a charming smile. “Michelle said you're going to be one of her bridesmaids. Are you bringing anyone? Cause if not, well, I was wondering...”

  “Wondering what?” Amanda said, scowling at him. “Wondering if I'd hook up with you after the wedding?”

  “What? No, it's not like that.”

  “Then what is it like?” Amanda planted her hands on her hips, staring him down. “We slept together once, over five years ago, and you figured you've made your way through enough other girls by now that you want to start back at the beginning?” She'd heard a thing or two about Cole's reputation with girls. From what she understood, she wasn't the only one he'd tossed to the curb when he was done with her.

  “Look, I...” Cole spread his hands, looking up at her apologetically. But if he meant to apologize, the words seemed to die in his throat.

  He got up and took a step towards the door. “I just thought maybe you'd like to catch up is all,” he said. “I know it's been a long time, and I know maybe I lost my chance, back in the day. But I just...”

  He shook his head and turned away. “I guess I'll see you around,” he said.

  Amanda watched him leave. She wanted to go out and talk to him. To find out if he really wanted to “catch up,” or if he was just trying to get back into her pants. To tell him that he had a son, and that he had an obligation to help take care of him. But she couldn't find the words.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when her last table started calling for her, asking for their check. She handed them their check and cleared their plates. When she came back up from the dish room, she found they'd left her a whole two dollars. She tucked it into the pocket of her apron, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes.

  She finished cleaning up and refilling the ketchup bottles, hurrying as much as she could so she wouldn't miss the last bus home. The entire time, she kept thinking about Cole, about him being back in town, and about whether she'd have the courage to ever come forward and tell him the truth about his son. She was so distracted that she didn't finish her work on time, and she was still wiping down her tables in the back dining room when she looked out the window and saw her bus driving past.

  She muttered a curse, clocked out, and hurried out the door, hoping she could catch up to the bus at the next stop down the road. But the bus made every green light and drove on ahead, soon vanishing out of sight.

  She sighed and started trudging down the road for the long walk home, pulling out her phone to call Mrs. Carter and let her know that she'd be late picking up James.

  Chapter 6

  After he left the diner, Cole drove his rental car around town, wandering aimlessly. His thoughts were clouded, and all he could think about was what an ass he'd been. He'd been a fool to think that Amanda would want to talk to him, would want anything to do with him. She had been right about his reputation. Most of the girls he'd slept with, he didn't even remember their names, or anything about them. Why would Amanda think that it would be any different with her?

  He drove around for a while, looking at the old, familiar sights of the town he'd grown up in. He drove past the IHOP where he'd worked as a busboy one summer in high school, and past the school's football field where he'd attracted the attention of recruiters and made a name for himself. Those days were long since past, however, and he knew this town was no longer a part of his life.

  After driving in circles for a while, he found himself not far from the diner where Amanda worked. He thought about going back inside to apologize to her, to try to explain himself. But he couldn't think what to say.

  He was about to drive on past the place and head home, when he spotted Amanda walking down the street. He slowed down as he approached her, wondering why she'd be walking home in the middle of the night. He had assumed she had a car; it hadn't occurred to him until he saw her walking that her restaurant job probably didn't pay her enough to afford one.

  He pulled alongside the curb next to her and rolled down the window. “Hey, Amanda.”

  She looked at him, an irritated scowl on her face. “Go away, Cole.”

  “Amanda, don't be like that. Come on, let me give you a ride.”

  “I'm fine,” she said. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself. “Why don't you just head along home? I'm sure the big welcoming party must still be going. You guys used to party all night, didn't you?”

  “I'm not in college anymore,” Cole said. Sure, he and his friends used to stay up until all hours of the night, drinking and partying. But being in a professional football team was different. He had to keep himself fit, and early morning training sessions weren't easy to keep up with when you were hung over.

  “Come on,” he said, “it's freezing out there. And it looks like it's going to rain.” He peered through the windshield up and the cloudy night sky. There wasn't a single star in sight.

  Amanda stopped walking and looked up at the sky. Cole stopped the car right next to her. He leaned across and opened the door for her. “Please?” he said. “I owe you at least a ride home.”

  Amanda looked down the street, then let out a long, frustrated sigh. She got in and pulled the door closed, then crossed her arms and turned away from him. “I live on Chestnut Lane,” she said.

  Cole started driving, heading in that direction. He remembered it being in the poorer neighborhood. When they got into the right area, he saw that a lot of the houses were rundown, with peeling paint and the shutters hanging off the front of some houses. At one point they passed a couple of guys standing on a street corner, hunched over and talking quietly to each other. They shot suspicious glares at the car as they drove past, then went back to whatever illicit business they were up to in the middle of the night.

  Amanda was quiet for most of the drive. She stared out the window, not even looking at Cole. He kept glancing her way, trying to think of something to say, but his mind was blank.

  They pulled into her apartment complex. The buildings were badly in need of repair, and the lawn out front was patchy and filled with weeds. Cole looked through the window at the building, trying to find the right apartment, but half the numbers had fallen off the doors.

  “Right here's fine,” Amanda said, her voice a bare whisper.

  Cole stopped the car and sat there, watching Amanda. It had started to rain, and the only sounds were the rumbling of the engine, the light splattering of raindrops on the car, and the squeak of the windshield wipers.

  Amanda reached for the door handle. Cole reached over and took her other hand. “Hey.”

  She froze, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “I need to go upstairs,” she said. “I have to pick up my son.”

  He let go of her hand. He'd forgotten that she had a kid. He wondered what the situation was with the kid's father, if he was still around. “Can I come up, and we can talk?” he asked. “Just talk.”

  “We don't have anything to talk about.” She got out and slammed the door shut. He watched her walk through the rain and into the apartment. He sat there staring at the building until he saw a light on the third floor turn on. He gazed up at the window, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. But a minute later the light turned out.

  Cole sighed and shifted the car into gear. He'd been a fool to think he could become a part of her life again. He drove home through the rain, trying to banished thoughts of Amanda from his mind. But seeing her again, after so many years, had stirred something up inside of him. He couldn't stop thinking about her, no matter how hard he tried.

  Chapter 7

  Early Saturday morning, Amanda had a shift at her second job, running a cash register at a local supermarket. It was grueling to be there so early in the morning after working a double the night before
, but she didn't have much choice in the matter if she wanted to keep up with her bills. She was consoled by the one perk her second job had: she had a stool behind the register, so she could sit instead of being on her feet all day. It was a small benefit, but with how bad her feet were still hurting, it was a blessing.

  Her shift finished at noon, leaving her with the rest of the day ahead of her. She wanted to go home and spend some time with her son, since she had barely seen him over the last few days. But before going home, she felt like there was another stop she needed to make. After her encounter with Cole the night before, she felt like she needed to go talk to Michelle about the wedding.

  She took a bus to Michelle's parents' house, where Michelle and Blake were staying for the weekend. She had rarely been to the new house since they moved to the wealthier part of town. It was the sort of neighborhood where Amanda felt completely out of place. All of the houses were huge—not quite mansions, but close to it—and every driveway had a BMW or a Mercedes or some other fancy luxury car. Most of the people who lived in that area were doctors, lawyers, or finance professionals. Michelle's family stood out as not belonging there in the least. Her dad was equipment manager for the high school football team, and her mom was a nurse. They could never have afforded such a nice house on their salaries. Though from what Amanda understood, Cole had paid for it all.

  Michelle's mom greeted her at the door and led her inside. She found Michelle in the living room, going over last-minute wedding plans. She set aside a catalog when Amanda walked in, getting up and taking both of Amanda's hands in hers.

  “Oh, thank God you're here,” Michelle said. “The florist is rushing to get all of the arrangements together at the last minute, but he's pushing me to decide on the bouquet. I can't decide if I want to go with something more traditional, or pick something a little more exotic.”

  “Umm, okay,” Amanda said. She didn't know the first thing about flowers, but she let Michelle drag her over to the couch so they could sort through the catalogs. She offered the best advice she could, though it mostly involved her saying that the first choice looked nice and the second choice looked nice and the third choice looked...nice as well. Michelle didn't even seem to notice her noncommittal answers, picking out whatever she liked regardless of what Amanda said.