Touchdown

by Yael Levy

  LeAnn came into the bathroom. “Are you okay, Goldie? You look so pale.”

  Goldie stared at LeAnn and her blooming belly and then felt her own stomach. “Oh boy,” she said and grabbed her friend’s hand. “LeAnn, we need to talk.”

  • • •

  Leigh was making spaghetti when Clay took a seat by the Formica counter in her kitchen. She stood by the stove, frying up fresh onions and garlic as she worked on her signature tomato sauce.

  Clay nibbled on the salad she’d already laid out in a bowl before them. “Mmmm,” he said. “That sauce sure smells good.”

  Leigh nodded. “I know my cooking isn’t as fine-tuned as yours, but you have to admit my spaghetti sauce is the best.”

  “You bet,” he said and smiled. It felt so good to be here, alone with her, with no team-mates to lead, no cheerleaders to flatter, nobody he had to impress . . . It was nice not having to be somebody they all wanted him to be. There was nothing as wonderful as what he felt now: just being himself and chilling with the most beautiful person in the universe.

  “You know,” he said, “I wish I could open up my own restaurant. Like I’d be the chef—”

  Leigh interjected, “Except for the spaghetti sauce, that would be mine—”

  “Sure.” He nodded. “And we’d open a restaurant together. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  “Yes, it would.” Leigh stirred the sauce with a wooden spoon. “But how would we do it? How could we ever afford to open a restaurant?”

  Clay shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t even afford to take a chef’s course.”

  “That’s a tough one.” Leigh nodded. “But you’ll be graduating next semester—”

  “Right. And the likelihood of getting drafted isn’t great, especially considering that crazy game—”

  Leigh turned off the stove and poured the sauce over the spaghetti, which she then placed in plates and set out before them. “You never know. Jury’s not out on that yet.”

  Clay nervously tapped his foot. “Yeah, but the allegations about the pot aren’t helping any.”

  “You’ll work through that.”

  “But what if I don’t make it?”

  “There’s still time before you graduate. You’ll find a job.”

  “Doing what? Have you noticed there’s a recession going on?”

  “Sure I’ve noticed,” Leigh shrugged. “I hear Goodwill’s hiring.”

  Clay clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? Those are my two choices? NFL or Goodwill?”

  “You have any better ideas?”

  Clay looked at her. “I love to cook. That’s what makes me feel happy, you know . . . alive. You ever feel that way about anything?”

  Leigh nodded. “Yes. I’ve always felt that way about one, true thing my whole life.”

  “What is that?”

  She stared at him without flinching. “You.”

  “Huh?”

  “I feel happy being with you. You know, just eating spaghetti with you. That’s about as good as it gets.”

  “Serious?”

  “You bet.”

  “Wow. I never knew that.”

  “I know.”

  “So what do I do about that?”

  Leigh smiled at him. “Ball’s in your court now, Clayton.”

  “All right.” He laughed. “Then I’ll have to run with it.”

  “Yes, you will. You’ll have to dodge a lot of people with other ideas—people who wouldn’t want you to score a touchdown, Clay.”

  “Then I’ve got to prepare for the game.”

  Leigh winked. “No games, Clay. Not between us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Goldie continued to dream. She held her growing belly as she sat down on a chair. She’d been working for so long and it was a difficult pregnancy—the doctor told her if she wanted the baby to thrive, she should stay home and rest. But how? She couldn’t support herself if she didn’t work! She went outside and searched the mailbox. Again. Why hadn’t he written? She wasn’t sure what was worse: worrying over the new baby she was carrying or worrying over Charlie’s safety.

  And then she heard the sounds of a car rumbling up toward her apartment. Maybe it was the postman with a letter from Charlie? Finally?

  The car slowed down, as if the driver was seeking the right address. And then she panicked. No. She didn’t want them to call on her for a visit.

  She ran inside and locked the door. Maybe it wasn’t her apartment; maybe they weren’t looking for her.

  She stood behind the door and breathed. Please God, no, Please God, no, Please—

  The doorbell rang.

  She stood motionless.

  On the third ring, she opened the door.

  Two army officers stood at the door and one of them verified that she was indeed Mrs. Charles Rosen and then, sadly, handed her a piece of paper.

  In what seemed like slow motion, she shut the door, glanced at the letter and promptly fainted.

  Missing In Action.

  It was days before she was able to call LeAnn, who’d already gone back home to Georgia. On the phone together, they cried.

  • • •

  Goldie woke up on a lumpy couch and stretched. “Woo-hoo, what a dream I had!”

  “Clay?” Leigh said.

  “Have you checked the flight schedules? We should get going.” Goldie jumped up from the couch and stared at Leigh. “Well, Nu, what are you waiting for? Is everybody in the south so slow all the time?”

  “Oh, no.” Leigh leaned her head back. “Not again.”

  “What now?”

  Leigh shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re still carrying on with this. If it was too much stress like the doctor said, couldn’t we just chill at Lake Lanier or something?”

  “I’m not stressed, just busy,” Goldie smirked. “Why are you in such a rush to get rid of me, anyway?”

  Leigh stared at Goldie. “Um . . . to get him back?”

  “Oh,” Goldie said as if talking to a small child. “I told you I’ll leave as soon as he helps me in New York—”

  “Yeah, but what if you don’t? What if you hang on, like, forever?”

  “Ha,” Goldie retorted. “Like you?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, it’s so obvious you like that guy . . . but you are never going to catch him if you always make yourself so available.”

  “Uh huh. So now I’m too available?” Leigh pursed her lips. “Why? ’Cause I don’t play dumb games?”

  “Yeah,” Goldie said. “Haven’t you ever read The Rules?”

  “No. I haven’t. And what makes you think I want to catch anybody?”

  “It’s pretty clear that he loves you, duh.”

  “Clay, I did always wish you loved me back, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that you would declare yourself like this.”

  Goldie shook her head. “Honey, nobody else would go through what you two do otherwise.” She looked Leigh up and down. “If you make each other crazy and you’re still there for each other at the end of the day—that’s love in my book.”

  Leigh let out a laugh. “You’re one funny demon.”

  “Dybbuk. So let’s get to New York?”

  “Well, I’m happy to be there for Clay,” Leigh mused, “but you know I’m losing work for this. Why should I help you out, dybbuk?”

  “Good point.” Goldie nodded. “How about this: Clearly you both need some help getting together . . . ”

  “No we don’t—”

  “Yeah, right. Whatever you say, bubaleh. Help me out, and I’ll see to it that you all live happily ever after in some form or other.”

  Leigh shook her head and laughed. “You’re a crazy demo—I mean, dybbuk. But if this is your idea of fun . . . all right. I’m game. I’ll call my boss. Let’s do this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Goldie was fiddling with her phone when she saw a Starbucks up the road. “Hey, Leigh, could we stop? Starbucks has good Internet service
, and I need to get my plane ticket ASAP!”

  “Sure thing,” Leigh humored Goldie as she drove.

  When they reached Starbucks, Goldie inhaled. “Oh, I missed this!” she said and waltzed up to the barista. “I’ll have a double latte and bottled mocha light Frappuccino to go.”

  Leigh laughed. “You’re really taking this joke too far. I thought you hate coffee—you know the caffeine makes you feel nervous.”

  “Right.” Goldie nodded. “And regularly tumbling into giants in an arena full of thousands of people is just peachy keen,” she said, as she went back to fiddling with Clay’s cell phone.

  The barista completed the order and Goldie stuck her hand in the jeans she was wearing. Goldie paled. “Leigh—my wallet! It’s missing!”

  Leigh shrugged. “You’ve been acting out for a while now, how would I know where it is? I can spot you a coffee, but not a plane ticket,” Leigh said as she took care of the bill.

  Goldie nodded. “Okay. Sure,” she said and found them a place to sit.

  Leigh stirred her coffee cup. “So how do you propose to buy a ticket to New York?” she mused.

  Goldie took a sip of coffee as she continued fiddling with the phone. “I could access my account in New York—”

  “Uh huh.” Leigh sat back and chuckled. “I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go with this.”

  “Huh? No!” Goldie jumped up and nearly spilled her coffee. “This can’t be!”

  Leigh sat forward. “Now what?”

  Goldie grabbed Leigh’s arm. “I can’t buy a plane ticket. I accessed my credit card information but my card was denied.” She continued to frantically type on the phone. “Argh! This can’t be happening to me!”

  Leigh shrugged. “Okay, Clay. Game up. Could we go back home now and clear up the mess with the police?”

  “No!” Goldie said. “I only have two more days! If I can’t fly and I have no money, how will I get there in time to stop the wedding?”

  Leigh shrugged. “Drive?”

  Goldie stared at her. “How?”

  “With a car?”

  “But I don’t know how to drive!”

  Leigh smiled. “Okay, are you asking me to drive you to New York?”

  “Would you? Please?”

  Leigh shook her head. “My boss has been real nice but I don’t think he’ll let me off for two days even to—”

  “Oh, please? Pretty please?” Goldie got down on her knees and begged.

  “Clay! This has gone far enough—I could lose my job!”

  Goldie shook her head. “Okay, then. I understand.” She got up and started walking out. “I’m sorry it has to end this way.”

  “What?” Leigh said, as she followed Goldie out. “That’s it? You’re just leaving me? Just like that you’re out of here?”

  Goldie walked up to the corner. “I don’t want you to lose your job. But I do need to get to New York.” She stuck out her thumb and started shouting loudly at passing cars. “New York? Anybody driving to New York? Hello! Stop! I need to get to New York!”

  The cars zoomed past her.

  Leigh ran her fingers through her hair. “You are impossible.” She dialed her boss. “All right,” she said after talking it over. “My boss’s assistant cleared it. She’s giving me the time off with unpaid leave. Let’s go.”

  Goldie grabbed Leigh and gave her a big hug. “You’re a doll!”

  “If you just wanted to spend time with me, Clay, we could’ve planned this a little better,” she grumbled.

  Goldie did a little dance in the street as the pedestrians swerved to avoid Clay’s hulking dance moves. “Baby, we are going to New York! Touchdown!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A few hours later, Clay woke up. “Ugh, how could you listen to that?” Clay took out the Taylor Swift CD that blared in Leigh’s car.

  Leigh stared at Clay through her peripheral vision as she drove. “Let me guess. The ghost is gone and Clay’s back?”

  Clay nodded. “What mess did she get us into now?”

  “New York. We’re driving there.”

  “We are?” Clay pulled back a curl from Leigh’s side. “But you’ve got work?”

  “Boss gave me time off.”

  “Leigh, you don’t have to do this.”

  “The dybbuk was going to hitchhike. I couldn’t leave you like that.”

  Clay squeezed her shoulder. “You’d do that for me?”

  “You know I’ve always got your back.”

  Clay leaned over and kissed Leigh’s cheek. “And I’ve got yours.” He reached over to the back of the car where Leigh kept her CDs in a small carton on the floor. He picked out a Garth Brooks CD, which he placed in the CD player.

  “Hey, that’s my wallet!” he said, seeing it between the CDs. “How did it get there?”

  “Well, your dybbuk couldn’t find it when we stopped for coffee earlier. Maybe she put it in there when she last appeared.” Leigh winked.

  “Coffee?” Clay groaned. He took out a wad of bills and insisted on reimbursing Leigh for Goldie’s expenditures, then offered to take her out for a late lunch.

  “I’m starving.” He pointed to a sign on the highway, which showed an upcoming pit stop. “Let’s stop to eat?”

  “Sure,” Leigh said and pulled over. They entered a cafe, where they ordered chocolate milk and sandwiches.

  The waitress served them and they dug into their lunches. They were eating and chatting happily, when Leigh took a call from work. “What do you mean, it wasn’t cleared? Alyssa told me I could take off.”

  Clay fiddled with the saltshaker as Leigh continued talking.

  She hung up. “I’m going to lose my job,” she said.

  “No . . . You can’t.”

  “He said if I’m not back for tonight’s shift, I shouldn’t bother coming back.”

  Clay gulped his large cup of chocolate milk. “So you’re going.”

  “Clay, I can’t leave you. And I know how much it means to you to get to New York.”

  Clay glanced at his watch. “If you head back within the hour, you should still be able to get back home in time for your next shift.”

  “That’s true, but what about you? What about New York?”

  Clay fiddled with the Internet connection on his cell phone. “See here.” He pointed to the Amtrak schedule. “If you drop me off at the train station, I could get to New York by later tonight.”

  Leigh shook her head. “All right, then. I will do that, though I’m sorry I have to turn back.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Clay laughed. “I realize I’ve put you through a lot. Why do you stick with me?”

  Leigh put down her fork and looked straight at him. “Because I love you.”

  Clay stared at her. “You know, Leigh, I think I love you, too.”

  Leigh laughed as she doused her fries with ketchup. “You think?”

  “Hey, that’s a big step for me—can’t rush these things!”

  Leigh shrugged. “You’ve known me for over two decades, Clay, but who’s counting?”

  Clay smiled. “I love you, Leigh. That decisive enough for you?”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “That’s a start.”

  Clay stopped eating and looked Leigh in the eye. “Leigh Truitt, you are the most special person in the world to me. And if these past few days have shown me anything, it’s that I love you . . . I really have no clue why you put up with me the way that you do—though I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  Leigh giggled. “C’mon, Clay. Quit kidding around.”

  Clay grabbed her hand. “I’m not joking. Leigh, I love you. I always have and I always will. And your love gives meaning to my life. It makes it all worthwhile.”

  “Clay, c’mon,” Leigh said quietly as her cheeks reddened. “Would you quit with the drama?”

  Clay shook his head. “I mean it, Leigh.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s—let’s get married.”

  Leigh’s eyes widened. “What? No
w why would you say that?”

  “Because I love you. I just want to be with you, always.”

  “Are you crazy, Clay? I’m not marrying you!”

  “Huh?” Clay stepped back. He felt genuinely hurt. “Why not?”

  “Well, I do love you, but you’ve put me on an emotional roller coaster with that woman inside you thing.”

  Clay shrugged. “But she’ll be gone soon.”

  Leigh sighed. “All right, so ask me then. Maybe I’ll give you a different answer.”

  “That it? If she leaves, you’ll marry me?”

  Leigh shrugged. “We do love each other—but I’m working two jobs. If you don’t make it to the pros . . . do you think we’ll ever be able to afford to get married?”

  “I’ll work hard.”

  “Where?”

  Clay’s face paled. “I know this economy isn’t great. But if I have to work at Goodwill to put food on the table, I will.”

  Leigh smiled. “And your family—your friends? They’ll all think you’re crazy marrying someone like me.”

  Clay shrugged. “These past few days have shown me that I really don’t care about what anybody thinks, Leigh. You’re the only girl for me.”

  Leigh smiled. “I see you that you really mean it. But before we talk marriage, let’s get you to the train station so you—or that dybbuk—can get to New York.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Charlie,” Goldie summoned. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on with these dreams about you.”

  Charlie sat beside her on the picnic table, buffing his nails.

  “You just can’t get me out of your mind,” he said.

  “No, it’s not that. Well, maybe a little. But Charlie, I dreamed we got married.”

  “You know if I was human, I’d say you could scare a guy off, talking about getting married so soon after meeting a man.”

  Goldie shook her head. “I could’ve had any guy I wanted.”

  “So that’s why you picked lover boy?”

  She shook her head. “That was for practical reasons.”

  Charlie faced Goldie, a serious look on his face. “So you’re saying you didn’t love him?”