by Ingrid Thoft
She drove to the NEU field house, the location of the soccer round robin, and parked her car in yet a different lot. She’d spent more time in the past week on a college campus than she had in two decades, but it didn’t make her feel the least bit nostalgic. Fina had enjoyed her college years, particularly with Milloy by her side, but she wasn’t someone who pined for the good old days. She believed that the past was the past, and you should get your head in the game in the present. Occasionally, she heard people wax rhapsodic about high school; she could only imagine that their personal development had been arrested upon graduation.
The sports complex had a card scanner at the door, but Fina just tucked in behind a couple of guys and smiled when one of them held the door open for her. The world would never be a secure place until people worried less about offending strangers and instead insisted that they show proper ID.
Inside, she walked purposefully down the hallway. That was another trick that gained her access to more places than her lock picks: If you acted like you belonged someplace, most people assumed that you did. The first hallway led to a basketball court, which was crowded with large, sweaty men. One of them directed her to the field house at the opposite end of the vast complex.
Fina couldn’t help but wonder what previous generations would make of the facilities. Aside from workout spaces and a plethora of equipment, there was a pool, tennis courts, a café, and locker rooms boasting saunas and steam rooms. There was no denying that exercise was crucial to good health, but there was something ironic about having to schedule in physical activity because you were too busy the rest of the day driving or sitting behind a desk.
The field house itself was huge, with delineated track lanes around the outer edge, separated by netting from the two turf fields in the center. A handful of young men were scrimmaging on one field, and a group of young women were on the other, running soccer drills. Fina found an opening in the netting and walked around to a grouping of benches. A couple of players were putting on shin guards and sneakers. One young woman was lying on her back, and Gus was grasping her leg, kneeling next to her. He manipulated it in different directions while they talked.
“Hey, Dr. Sibley,” Fina said, striding over to him. She figured that approaching him in front of his players would perhaps keep him from kicking her out. Or at the very least delay it.
Gus looked at her for a moment before recognition washed over his face. He wasn’t happy to see her.
“Ms. Ludlow. Hello.”
“I just need a few minutes. Once you’re done with that.” She gestured at the young woman’s leg.
Gus didn’t say anything, and Fina took a seat on the metal bench a few feet away. She listened as he asked the player questions and then gave her suggestions regarding specific stretches. Fina knew that stretching was important, but she always felt she could spend her time doing something more productive—like eating or sleeping.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Gus said when he came over to Fina. He was wearing a suit with an NEU-themed necktie.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Fina said. She wondered if he was going to mention his call to Pitney.
“Then why are you here?”
“You don’t want to sit down?” Fina asked, gesturing toward the bench. “I know you’re not thrilled to see me, but we could have a civilized conversation.”
He glanced toward the players. The women had various body types, but all of them looked to be in terrific shape. Their calves and hamstrings were well defined, and their arms were lean. Most of them had long hair pulled back in ponytails.
Gus took a seat next to her, but was silent.
“These benches are so uncomfortable,” Fina commented. “How does anyone sit on them for more than two minutes?”
“They don’t, usually,” Gus said. His gaze traveled up and down her body. “It would be more comfortable if you sat up straight. You’re not doing your back muscles any favors.”
“Well, thanks for that tip.” She sat up a tiny bit straighter. “So, obviously, you know about Liz’s death.”
“Of course. I certainly hope you didn’t come here to tell me that.”
“No, no. What are your thoughts about Liz’s brain being donated to BU?”
Gus paused for a moment. “I don’t have any thoughts about it.”
Fina studied him. “You were her team doctor. It’s hard to believe you don’t have any thoughts about the situation.”
“If I have any thoughts,” Gus said, “I’ll share them if I’m deposed.”
“Ahh, right. Why say anything until you have to say it under oath?”
“I thought you said you weren’t here to ask me questions.” An errant ball rolled in their direction. Gus stood and kicked it back to one of the players.
“I’m not,” Fina said. “I just wanted to update you on my progress.”
He studied her. “Why?”
“Because I thought you’d be interested. I know you’ve been in touch with the police.”
He was quiet. Maybe he realized that going to the cops had been a miscalculation.
“I’ve heard that your relationship with Liz wasn’t as good as you led me to believe,” Fina said.
Gus remained silent.
“I wonder why you would suggest otherwise,” Fina said, “and I wonder why you two were at odds.”
He swallowed.
“Maybe it was because of the lawsuit,” Fina ventured. “Maybe Liz wanted you to take her side, but it’s hard to believe you would. After all, NEU still signs your paycheck.”
Gus gave her a tight smile. “I assure you, I don’t do this for the money.”
“Which suggests you do it because you love it. That’s an even more compelling reason to side with NEU. If you love this gig, you wouldn’t want to jeopardize it.”
“As I told you the last time we spoke,” Gus said, “I followed the protocol for head injuries that was in place at the time. I didn’t violate any regulations.”
A whistle blew, and the players gathered in a circle near the goal before dispersing for another drill. Fina and Gus watched as they took shots on the goalie; her arms seemed to extend like Stretch Armstrong.
“But you did put players back in against your better judgment,” Fina said.
“No, I did not,” he insisted, “and I don’t see how anyone could claim I did.”
“So if not for the lawsuit, you and Liz would have been fine?”
There was a minor collision on the field, and it took a moment for the players involved to untangle themselves from one another. One of them started to limp off, signaling the end of the interview. Gus stood up and beckoned the young woman over.
“Things were fine,” he said. “Friends occasionally disagree. There’s nothing noteworthy about it.”
“I think it’s my Achilles,” the player said, dropping down onto the bench. “Dammit!” She banged the metal bench with her open fist.
“Calm down, Colleen. We’ll fix it.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Sibley,” Fina said, and started to walk back toward the opening in the net. She paused for a moment and watched him attend to the player. He had dropped down to his knee again and was examining her foot.
Before leaving the sports complex, Fina checked out the offerings at the café and ordered a peanut power smoothie, which promised a creamy mix of peanut butter, banana, yogurt, and protein powder to propel her through her day. Presumably, the concoction was geared toward people who had already exercised, or planned to, but she never knew what might lie ahead. Better to fuel up now, just in case.
As she pushed a straw into the thick liquid, Fina wondered about Gus and Liz’s alleged falling out. She didn’t doubt that a lawsuit could fracture or even decimate a long-standing friendship—she’d seen it happen before—but something about it didn’t jibe. This lawsuit was go
ing to be bigger than Liz and Gus. It was going to involve teams of lawyers and millions of dollars and probably years of legal wrangling.
Yes, Liz was injured and that was personal, but Gus was right: There hadn’t been concussion protocols back then.
So did Liz blame Gus for not being a mind reader or did she blame him for something else?
—
Fina called Kelly and asked if she could stop by and ask her a few questions. She hesitated, which seemed to be the general reaction to Fina these days. Kelly ran down a list of pickups and drop-offs that boggled the mind, finally settling on ballet class. Fina could meet her at her daughter’s ballet class in an hour.
The studio was in an old brick building in Roslindale Village—MISS LETTY’S SCHOOL OF DANCE was etched on a glass door. Fina pulled it open and climbed the stairs to the second floor, piano music rising in volume as she did. She arrived at a scene that was like a whirling bowl of pink cotton candy come to life. Little girls, emerging from a room that had a curtain for its door, were chattering and shrieking, wearing pink tutus and matching tights, their hair pulled back in buns that were successful to varying degrees. They wandered around an area filled with small cubbies and wall hooks as a few mothers tended to flyaway hair and struggled to cram small feet in ballet slippers.
A woman appeared from behind another curtained doorway.
“Children,” she announced sternly. “Please proceed to the studio.” She was probably eighty years old, her face resembling that of a shar-pei. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her face was heavily made-up. Blue eye shadow, heavy black mascara, and ruby-red lips only accentuated her skin’s lack of elasticity. To complete the look, she was dressed in a black leotard, black tights, and a small sheer skirt.
She looked at Fina with disapproval, her gaze lingering on Fina’s shoulders. “Yes? Are you here about classes?” Little girls maneuvered around them toward the dance studio, like water around river rocks.
“God, no,” Fina replied. “Are you Miss Letty?”
“I am.”
“I’m meeting one of the moms, Kelly Wegner.”
“Mrs. Wegner!” Miss Letty hollered above the din. “Someone is here for you.” She stared at Fina. “Please be sure not to disturb the class,” she warned before turning on her ballet slippers and striding down the hallway toward a line of folding chairs that provided a viewing area into the windowed studio.
Kelly ducked out from behind the curtain and shooed a small girl after the others.
“I don’t think Miss Letty is happy I’m here,” Fina said.
“Miss Letty isn’t ever happy. Period,” Kelly said. She didn’t look as tired as she had on Saturday, but she certainly wasn’t as perky as she’d been at their first meeting. “We can go watch, but we should try to be quiet.”
Fina followed her to the chairs, and they claimed two that were separated from the other mothers. Inside the studio, an elderly man—Mr. Letty, perhaps—was plunking out a simple tune as Miss Letty led the little girls through warm-up exercises. The pupils looked to be about four years old, their bodies just growing out of the baby stage marked by smooth round tummies.
“Is that your daughter?” Fina asked, gesturing toward the small towhead who had pranced down the hall in front of them.
“Yes, that’s Ruby.”
“She’s adorable,” Fina commented. Ruby had her mother’s fine hair and an impish grin.
“Miss Letty doesn’t think she pays attention enough,” Kelly said.
“How old is she?” Fina asked. “Four?”
“Almost.” Kelly’s gaze followed her daughter’s movements.
“I’d be worried if she did pay attention,” Fina said.
They watched as Ruby continued spinning in a circle long after her classmates had stopped. Miss Letty spoke to her, at which point she arrested her turning and listed to the side, grinning.
“Miss Letty thinks if I’m here watching, Ruby will be more focused.”
“Well, even if she isn’t focused, she looks like she’s having fun,” Fina noted.
The girls were paired off and started progressing down the length of the room, two at a time. Fina couldn’t figure out what move they were supposed to be doing, there was such variation.
“So you wanted to talk to me?” Kelly asked.
“Yeah, thanks for making the time. I know your life is probably crazy right now.”
“It sure is.”
“How’s Jamie doing?”
“As you would expect,” Kelly said, focusing on the class. “I think he’s in shock.”
Fina nodded. “I’m not surprised. What do you think about the BU stuff?” she asked a moment later.
Kelly was quiet. “I think it’s kind of creepy, to tell you the truth. I don’t want anyone cutting up my brain after I die.”
“The idea is unnerving, but I suppose that Liz thought it was worth it. Has Jamie talked to you about it?” Fina asked. “How does he feel about it?”
“I think he’s okay with it.”
Miss Letty was demonstrating something to the class, and Fina had to give her credit. Her posture was outstanding, but maybe that was from the stick up her butt.
“Did Liz ever mention that she had a problem with Gus Sibley, the team doctor?”
Kelly frowned. She opened her purse and dug around before pulling out an open roll of breath mints. “Do you want one?” she asked Fina.
“Sure.” Fina thought time was being bought, and she wondered why that was.
“She never said anything about Gus to me. I didn’t even know they were still in touch.”
“Really? Tasha knew they were.”
Kelly’s lip curled slightly. “Well, I guess Liz and Tasha were better friends.”
Fina wondered if she had stumbled onto some college resentment that had simmered over the years. Three was a difficult number when it came to relationships, which was why Fina thought that polyamory was never a good choice. The whole concept seemed fraught with peril, not to mention exhausting.
“Were the three of you friends in college?” Fina asked.
“Uh-huh.” Kelly didn’t elaborate. If she had been the odd man out, it wasn’t surprising that she didn’t want to share the details.
“So Liz never mentioned Gus or any disagreement they might have had?”
“I said she didn’t,” Kelly snapped.
“Right. Sorry,” Fina said.
Kelly rubbed her temples. “Sorry. I’m just really tired.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. I don’t mean to be a pest.”
Ruby was waving her arms like a windmill; it was no classic ballet move that Fina had ever seen. Kelly shook her head in wonderment. “What is she doing?”
“Hey, at least she’s getting her ya-yas out,” Fina said. Patty was a big believer in running kids around so that they collapsed into bed each night, spent and satisfied. As far as Fina could tell, it was a successful strategy for happy, well-adjusted kids. “That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, if only Miss Letty agreed,” Kelly said.
Fina considered suggesting that she find a more age-appropriate class for energetic Ruby, but held her tongue. Funny, parents rarely appreciated getting parenting advice from the childless.
“Thanks for talking to me,” Fina said, rising from her seat. “Any word on the funeral?”
“Friday. They haven’t figured out the details yet.”
“Got it. Thanks, Kelly. Let me know if I can do anything.”
“Sure. Bye.”
Fina trotted down the steps, happy to be free of the rigidity of Miss Letty’s School of Dance. On the sidewalk, she slumped her shoulders and ambled to the car.
It was good to be an adult.
—
This is utter bullshit. That’s what it is,” said the
trainer. “Giving her brain to BU. If anything, NEU should get it.”
It was later that afternoon, and Kevin was leaning against the doorjamb in one of the athletic training rooms at the NEU sports center. The room, one of many in the complex, was where the student athletes came for rehab and fine-tuning.
Kevin didn’t bother to explain that NEU had no use for Liz’s brain; the young man wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, so Kevin didn’t waste his breath.
The room was cramped with two padded tables and two hydrotherapy whirlpool baths. It wasn’t the most attractive space, but the equipment was top-notch, and that’s what mattered. Providing every possible advantage to the student athletes was one of the reasons Kevin worked so hard as a booster. If there was anything he could do to give an NEU team an edge, he’d do it.
The trainer was massaging the quadriceps muscle on one of their star basketball players, Paul Valmora. The kid lay on his back, his feet hanging well off the table. He was at least six feet five, with broad shoulders and well-defined arm muscles. Kevin liked to put in face time with Paul and other athletes off the field, and it was easy to do since they trained year-round, no matter which season they actually played. Those interactions helped build relationships and reassured the standouts that Kevin was available to them; whatever they needed, Kevin was the man for the job. He worked hard to be indispensable.
“Don’t worry about it, Chad,” Kevin assured the trainer. “It’s going to be fine.”
Chad shook his head. “And what does girls’ soccer have to do with football?”
Another young man kneeled in front of a large metal cabinet, sorting through rolls of athletic tape. Kevin walked farther into the room and leaned against a counter.
“Nothing. That’s why you don’t need to worry about it.” Kevin took his role as a booster seriously and felt a responsibility to rally the troops. This was true whether they were stuck in a losing streak or facing a PR nightmare.
