by S. J. Bishop
"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered now except getting to Clarissa. I knew that everything Madeline was saying had to be bullshit. Clarissa and I had only known each other a couple weeks. That was way too quick for her to be pregnant, wasn't it? I did some fast calculations in my head back to the first time I'd fucked her outside the bar. I'd been so drunk and horny that I hadn't used a condom. I never used condoms, though. They were death for hard-ons. I'd always assumed that if a chick didn't say something, she must be on the pill.
I breezed past Angelo without a word and had my car door open when I suddenly realized something. She'd been trying to tell me something this morning. Something important. I don't really know how to say this...Lars...
"Shit," I screamed, almost slamming my hand in the door as I shut it. This was bad.
37
Clarissa
I looked up just in time to see Lars running in through the sliding hospital doors. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Didn't you get my message? He's okay. They stabilized him."
Lars was shaking his head. "I know. I listened to your voicemail in the car. That's not why I'm here."
His limbs were shaking. "Did something happen at practice?" We were standing in the middle of the waiting room. I'd been here so much lately that it was beginning to feel like a home away from home. A few of the people in the hospital foyer watched us, mostly out of boredom. One man sat in the back corner, his head buried in his hands. He had dark hair and light brown skin, and when he lifted his face in our direction, he had the saddest eyes I'd ever seen.
"Are you pregnant?" Lars blurted, his face a mix of confusion and anger.
My jaw dropped open. I'd thought that after everything that had happened to me in the last two weeks, including my father's accident, I was prepared for anything that life had to throw at me. But I hadn't been prepared for this.
"I...what makes you think that?"
It was the wrong answer to his question. Anything other than a flat-out denial would have been wrong because anything other than a flat-out denial was a yes. I could see his eyes change. They grew dark and cumbersome, like he was suddenly carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"It's mine?" he whispered.
"I...I..." I wanted to tell him that I wasn't pregnant. That it was all a big misunderstanding. I had no idea how he could have found out. The only other person I'd told was Madeline. I kicked myself for being so stupid. Madeline. Of course. She'd been playing me all along, hadn't she?
"Clarissa, answer me!" Lars had never raised his voice to me like this once during our whirlwind romance. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I couldn't find my voice. "Is it mine?!" he demanded.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. So I nodded my head instead. Lars blinked several times, as if he couldn't see what was in front of him. I reached out for him, wanting to comfort him...wanting him to comfort me. I needed to know that this wasn't it between us. That he wasn't about to freak out and leave me like I'd feared he would.
He shook my hand off as I pressed it to his shoulder.
"No," he said simply. His eyes were red and wet. "How could you keep this from me?"
Finally, my voice began to work. "I didn't know how to tell you."
"Is it true you were planning to get an abortion?"
I couldn't look at him. Goddammit, Madeline! Why had I ever listened to her?
"Oh God, you were," he said, his face cringing as he leaned away from me like I was a piece of yesterday's trash. "And you weren't gonna say anything? I feel like I don't even know you. And after I've told you everything about myself..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes wandered from mine to the wall behind me.
"Lars, please; listen to me. I was confused. I was gonna get rid of it, yes, but I changed my mind. I didn't go through with it because I knew I had to talk to you first."
It was like he couldn't even hear me. I saw in his eyes that everything between us had changed. With one lie, I had ruined everything. He stepped away from me, his face red, his cheeks wet. Then he walked out of the hospital, and I was alone. Forever alone. I sunk into a chair and began to sob uncontrollably.
"There now," a man's deep voice said from behind me. I looked up to see the man who'd been sitting in the corner of the room. The man with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen. He was about forty and reminded me a little of my father with his concerned look and his worried brow. He put one hand gently on my shoulder.
"This too shall pass," he said. I nodded, not sure how much comfort it was to hear the words, but I appreciated having a friendly face to talk to, even if it was the friendly face of a stranger.
"May I sit?" he asked, motioning to the chair beside me.
"Sure," I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"You have a loved one here?"
I nodded. "My father. You?"
"My daughter, Theresa. She's about your age." He buried his head in his hands as he said her name, his chest heaving. I forgot my own grief for a moment as I reached for his hand, patting it gently.
"It's okay," I said. "She'll be okay. As a wise man once said, this too shall pass." He looked up from his hands and offered me a small smile.
"Who said I was a wise man?"
"I did. Just now." His smile widened. "I'm Clarissa. Clarissa Walker." I extended my hand. He took it in his, shaking it.
"Clarissa, it's nice to meet you. I'm Marco Rossi."
38
Lars
My phone buzzed in my pocket for the umpteenth time today. I pulled it out and read yet another text from Clarissa. Two days. It had only been two days. Was that really so long? Couldn't she give me a little bit of breathing room so that I could wrap my head around the idea of being a father?
Please call me. Let's talk about this.
I put my phone back in my pocket without sending a reply.
A second later, it buzzed again. "Goddammit, Clarissa!" I screamed, double- checking that I'd locked my car doors before taking my phone back out.
I miss you. I'm sorry. Good luck today.
I sighed and tried to put myself in her shoes. I hadn't exactly been receptive to the news of her pregnancy. She'd called me a dozen times in the last two days and texted me a dozen more, and I hadn't returned one of them. It wasn't just her being pregnant, though. It was the fact that she'd hidden it from me.
I walked toward the stadium with my head wrapped more around her than it was around the game. I tried to snap myself out of it any way that I could. I pictured Coach walking alongside me, talking to me as if he weren't lying in a hospital bed in a coma. My head ached and my body ached with it. The last two days of practice had been rough.
Tom Miller had run us ragged trying to prepare us for today's game. He'd told us to win it for Coach Walker. As if we weren't already thinking that. Coach's absence had affected everyone on the team differently, but in general, it had brought us closer together. Even Matt Barton and I had been getting along better since Coach's accident. Yesterday, after practice, he'd told me he was sorry for ratting me out about showing up to practice drunk that time.
The stadium loomed heavily in front of me. My phone buzzed again, and I ignored it. Clarissa was gonna drive me batshit crazy if she didn't knock it off. There were a series of buzzes in my pocket that seemed linked together in one never-ending loop. Finally, I pulled my phone out and typed back: The Super Bowl is in TWO HOURS. Leave me alone!
I waited with my breath held to see if she would respond with anything. Gratefully, she didn't.
I was almost at the player's entrance when I spotted Angelo out of the corner of my eye, hovering outside the door. When he saw me, he did that smile-sneer he was famous for. He started toward me and I stopped walking, not wanting anyone to hear whatever it was he had to say to me.
"Angelo," I said, jumping right in. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my favorite quarterback," he said. "And to wish him luck."
&
nbsp; "Thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me."
"What? So fast? You can't spare a moment for your old friend?"
"What do you want, Angelo?"
He narrowed his eyes at me. "You know what I want. This is your last chance. I'm getting my money from you one way or another."
"Well then, I guess it will have to be the other, because I'm not throwing the game for any reason, under any circumstances." I continued past him, not bothering to look back. I walked right through the player's gate and down to the locker room.
My phone buzzed again just as I was opening my locker.
I'm sorry. I'm just scared. Good luck today. I love you.
A sudden swarm of butterflies filled my stomach. My heart raced as I reread her words. She loved me? How many people had said that to me in my life? My mom...and Ash. And now Clarissa. My finger hovered over the keyboard, wondering if maybe I'd been a little harsh on her. Maybe...maybe it wasn't too late for us.
39
Clarissa
"Want some more coffee?" my sister asked.
"No. Thanks. I think if I drink any more coffee, I'll be up peeing all night long."
"You've already been peeing like a pregnant lady. Maybe you need some vitamins."
I turned my head quickly so Treena couldn't see the blush creep into my cheeks. I hadn't told her I was pregnant yet.
"Hey," she said, sounding serious. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get down here. It's harder than I thought it would be to set aside time off when you're a cop."
"It's fine," I told her. "Lots of people have been by to see Dad. I've had company."
I kept checking my phone, hoping Lars would text. I knew I was probably driving him nuts, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I needed to see him. To talk to him. To feel his hot body press against mine just one more time. Who are you kidding? Once more would never be enough.
"So, what do you think? Should we turn the game on? Think he can hear it?" I asked Treena, trying to get my mind off of everything. She held our father's hand as she sat beside him. I was curled up in a chair. I'd slept here with Treena last night. Neither of us liked the idea of leaving my father alone. The only time I'd done so since Lars' outburst two days ago was to pick her up at the airport. When I'd gotten back to his room, I'd noticed fresh flowers in Dad's vase and could smell Lars's aftershave lingering in the air.
"Of course we should turn it on," Treena squealed. "This is just what we need to snap him out of this."
"You really believe that?"
"I do."
I sighed. "So does Lars."
Treena squinted. "You mean the quarterback?"
"Yeah."
I felt her eyes on me, watching me with her trained cop's perception. "Aha, something going on between you two?"
I spun my head in her direction, blushing, looking at my father as if he were about to wake up and flip out, hearing the insinuation in Treena's voice. "He's come by the hospital a few times, that's all. He and Dad were pretty close." I turned the game on. Treena watched me a moment longer as I tried desperately to keep my big mouth shut and my eyes fixated on the television. Finally, I felt her back off.
"So, what about that big Broadway show you're starring in?" Treena had always been supportive of me in Colorado. She'd been almost as excited as I was when I'd called to tell her about my new part.
"I think I might be getting fired."
"What? Already? How many rehearsals have you been to?"
"One."
"And they're ready to fire you?" She screwed up her face, puffing out her cheeks, and in a chipmunk's voice said, "Jeez, Clarissa, you must really suck."
I burst into giggles.
"Really, though, can't you talk to them?"
"I tried."
"And?"
I sighed. "The main director, Phil, likes me. He's the only reason I'm even in the show to begin with. The other guy—"
"You mean the scumbag—"
"That's right, the scumbag. I think he's been boning some other actress who wants my part. He's ready to give it to her, too."
"Sick bitch," Treena said.
"I know. Jerry's ugly and mean, too. I feel sorry for whoever's crawling under him like that, even if she does get my part."
My phone vibrated on the table. I grabbed it and looked at the text I'd just received. It was from Lars.
Meet me after the game. I want to see you.
I couldn't hide the smile that was splayed across my face.
"Who was that?" Treena asked suspiciously.
"No one." She opened her mouth, ready to interrogate me. I had to cut her off at the pass. "You know, I think I will get some more coffee after all. Be right back."
I jumped up before she could say another word and headed toward the vending machine, grinning from ear to ear. As I stepped into the hallway, a figure came up to me.
"Clarissa?"
"Madeline!" I exclaimed, shocked to see her.
"Hi," she said, looking everywhere but in my eyes. "How are you?"
"How am I?" I yelled, anger boiling inside me.
Madeline finally raised her eyes to mine. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Sorry? You're sorry? For what, exactly? For the lies you told me? For pretending to be my friend?"
Tears brimmed in her eyes, but I didn't feel bad for her. "I just…I found out your dad was here and I wanted to…I mean…I wasn't pretending to be your friend. I just…"
"Piss off, Madeline." I continued walking past her, toward the coffee machine.
"Clarissa!" she called out. "I fucked up. I know that. But I wasn't pretending to be your friend. I swear it!"
"Go away, Madeline. I've got nothing to say to you." I made my way to the coffee machine, and when I turned back, Madeline was gone. I blinked back the tears, wishing she had just stayed away. I pushed my quarters into the slot and tried to forget she was ever here. That I'd even known her in the first place.
"Clarissa," a man said as my coffee spilled out of the machine and into the cup.
"Marco," I said, trying to smile.
"She a friend of yours?" he asked, cocking his head toward the hall where Madeline had just been standing.
"Oh, no. She's just…no." I shook my head and took my coffee. Marco seemed content to leave my response as it was. He broke into a giant grin.
"My daughter woke up," he said suddenly, hugging me.
"Oh my God, that's wonderful!" Suddenly my world brightened with his good news. I left my coffee where it was and hugged him back.
"Can I ask you a favor? I've got a gift for her in my car, but I don't really know if she'd like it. Can you come take a look at it? It'll just take a minute."
"Whatever it is, I'm sure she'll love it."
Marco's smile faltered. "I don't know. I'm afraid it just...well, come and see. Please? It'd mean a lot to me. My car's just on the second level; I swear I'll have you in and out."
I was still giddy from Lars' most recent text. I had a couple hours yet before I'd have to head down to the stadium. How could I say no to Marco? We'd become a support system for each other over the last couple of days.
"Sure," I said. "Just lead the way."
40
Lars
It was the fourth quarter. We were down by three. I could see the end zone looming in front of me with less than a minute left on the clock. The timeout was almost over, and the teams were lining up. It was our last shot.
The whistle blew. I passed the ball to Barton and took off to the left. The other team was focused on trying to stop him, and they almost did, but he did this beautiful jump in the air and got the ball right over the goal line before they tackled him. The whistle blew, and the rest of my team and I charged into the end zone. The guys were all jumping up and down, shouting.
I could hardly believe it. We'd just won the Super Bowl.
I still had no idea how I'd managed to push everything from my mind for tonight's win. I was swarmed with reporters and photographers. The guys picked up the Gat
orade and dumped it over Tom's head as he shouted like a child who'd just won a puppy. His eyes actually teared up. One of the reporters shoved a microphone into my face, almost bumping my lip with it.
"Lars, can you tell us how you're feeling right now?"
It was a stupid question, but I couldn't help smiling anyway. "Fucking great!" I shouted. I saw the reporter wince at the curse, but I didn't give a shit. "I just want to say that this is for Coach Walker. We won this for you. Now wake up and come back to us, you sonofabitch!" Behind me, I heard the guys all cheering. Matt Barton dragged me away and poured champagne over my head.
I was laughing and cheering along with the rest of the guys, but suddenly all I wanted was to see Clarissa. To share this moment with her. I searched the stands for her face but couldn't find it. I'd told her to meet me in the locker room and left her name with security. I knew it would be next to impossible for me to sneak off the field, so I told the guys I had to use the bathroom and that I would be right back. I made my way through the crowds, but when I got to the locker room, she wasn't there. Disappointment washed over me. I opened my locker and pulled my phone out, thinking she was probably just stuck in the massive crowds.
My phone rang almost as soon as I picked it up. I looked at the number. It was Clarissa.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Where are you?" I was excited to hear her voice.
"Sorry to disappoint, but Clarissa's indisposed at the moment."
It took me a moment to register what I was hearing.
"Angelo?" My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized what this meant.
"That's right. Remember what I said about needing to get my money from you one way or the other? Well, meet the other." There was silence, and then Clarissa's voice came on the line.
"L-Lars?"
"Clarissa? Are you okay?"
But she was already gone.
