by Suzanne Hart
I knew what Chet would say if I brought this up to him. He would insist that she was just stressed about work, or about something else. He would make up some excuse to justify her behavior, telling me she didn’t mean it, or whatever. He would say anything he could to keep this going. I should have been flattered at that, but all I could do was wonder if this whole thing was a good idea anyway.
I knew I shouldn’t have entertained thoughts of anything Chet’s mother said, but it was hard not to. What was I doing with Chet? I was over ten years younger than him, a doctor who came from nothing and had just moved to Dallas, and he was practically a cowboy prince who had been groomed by two parents who were obsessed with him. I wanted Chet, but it wasn’t just about Chet anymore. If we wanted this for real, I should have been able to feel welcome in his life. No matter how much I wanted him, no matter how he made me feel, I wasn’t going to settle for a life in a family where I wasn’t wanted. And even after his mother went, I knew I didn’t belong, everyone knew it. I didn’t want to settle for that.
I didn’t want to settle at all.
I picked up my office phone and dialed his office. There was a short ring before, “Hello?’ A secretary.
“Hi, this is Dr. Waters for Chet Blackwood.”
“Oh, alright. I’ll transfer you in right now.”
I waited the necessary three seconds before, “Hello?” Chet’s sultry voice filled the earpiece.
My heart skipped a beat at the sound of it, but I cleared my throat and shoved those feelings down. This was the time for serious decisions. I had to stop letting my emotions dictate everything I did. This was getting to be too complicated. “Hey Chet, it’s Dahlia.”
“Hey, love. It’s so good to hear your voice. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
In that moment, I realized that breaking it off might actually be hurting him. That made me stop. “Oh have you?”
“Yeah. I gotta say, I feel like shit about the way my mom treated you.”
“Oh Chet, don’t worry. I don’t even want to talk about it.” I didn’t.
He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. You know it’s just… Her husband just died. He was the last one.” His voice broke at the end.
I sighed. I knew this argument was coming, but he made a good point. “I know.”
“Listen, I’m sure if I run it by her, she would be more than happy to have you again.”
Well, that was a complete lie. “I actually had something to talk to you about.”
I heard a voice in the background. Some man mentioning something about a budget. “Hey, Dahlia. I actually have to go. It seems like something has come up.”
Damn. “Oh shit. This will be quick.” I actually hoped it would.
“No I think we need to come back to this later, I really am sorry… actually, would you be willing to go on a picnic with me later tonight?”
A picnic? “Sure, I guess.”
“Great.” His voice sounded lighter. “I know a great midnight spot.”
He hung up.
***
That night, he drove me down an unlit path in the outskirts of Dallas. I let my head rest on the window, watching the dark shadows of the hills and trees zoom past the window. In that warm, quiet car, I felt so at home with him, my early thoughts of that morning completely changing. I wanted to sit here with him like this forever. Eventually, he stopped the car in a place that looked totally random to me and stepped outside. I got out and watched him hoist open the trunk and pull a duffel bag out of it.
He shut the trunk and then came around to me. “Follow me.” He led me down a short path into the woods. I was starting to wonder, wildly, if he was going to kill me after all, when the thick brush started to clear out, leaving an opening. I stepped out of the trees and into the opening, looking around me. It was gorgeous. I loved how the moonlight streamed down, a perfect amount of light even though there wasn’t a street lamp in sight.
“This is amazing.”
He nodded as he unzipped the bag and pulled out a thick quilt. It was hard to get a good look at it in the shadows, but it looked purple and had the initials CB stitched into one of the corners.
A smile played on my lips. “You’re favorite blanket, right?”
He shrugged. “So, I like blankets. Shoot me.”
I chuckled at this, watching him set out a small chest he had brought full of cheeses and grapes and topping it all off with a bottle of sweet white wine. “So, for someone as rich as you, you sure do get creative with dates.”
He smiled at this.
God, I loved his smile.
“I figured if I’m gonna do this courtship right, I’m gonna have to be creative.”
I laughed as I took a seat on the blanket. It was surprisingly thick and warm, considering we were sitting directly on the mush of a forest floor. I fingered the cloth as he poured our glasses. “Wow, nice stuff.”
He shrugged. “My grandmother made it.”
“You seem really attached to your grandparents.”
His face fell. “Well, they aren’t here anymore, so.”
I scooted closer to him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. The simple touch made my heart flutter.
He put his hand on my cheek, turning my face to face him and kissed me. I felt a heat between my legs, my body squirming with pleasure as he pressed his tongue just inside my mouth. I clutched his sweater with my free hand, leaning deeper and deeper into him.
I wanted him. All of my thoughts from this morning seemed silly in the wake of how I felt about him now.
But he pulled away. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
Right. In that moment, I made a split second decision and lied. “Oh, just what happened with your mom.”
“Ah, right,” He said, leaning back as he took a sip of his wine. “That mortifying meal.”
I chuckled. “It wasn’t that bad. Who would you be if you weren’t embarrassed by your parents every once in a while?”
He wrapped his free arm around me. It felt heavenly. “Sure. Baby, you are kind.”
Baby. I could die. I let my head fall back in disbelief for just a moment.
But he sighed. “It’s just so damn hard to talk to that woman sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sipping more of that amazing wine.
“Well, let’s just put it this way; yesterday at the breakfast table was the first time she mentioned dad.”
I nodded. “You must feel so alone in this.”
He shifted again, laying down so that he could rest his head in my lap.
I let out a silent sigh, internally cursing myself for not having sex with him earlier. Now, would be totally inappropriate because we happened to be talking about heavy stuff. This was supposed to be quality time. And yet, I couldn’t deny how much I wanted him to turn around and eat me out.
“Yeah. You have no idea. Now I’ve got this whole company to deal with and I just don’t know what the hell is going on half the time.”
“It’s hard when your product is people,” I said.
He looked up at me, a deep look in his eyes. “You understand me.”
I gulped. “I feel like I know you.”
He sat up and kissed me again. God, why did it always feel so good?
“I just know that losing my dad was hard. My mom never got over it. And sometimes I felt like I was going through it alone… and that she just...I needed her the most, precisely at the moment when she just couldn’t be there for me.”
He nodded, placing a hand on my cheek. “God knows I know what that feels like. But with me it's… I never thought I would need, or even want to be close to my mom.” He let out a dry laugh. “I didn’t even really see her as a person until she started acting crazy after his death. And my dad…” he shook his head. “He warned me not to let him down, and I really didn’t care. And now that he’s gone, I’m terrified that I’m gonna do just that.”
I cupped his cheek with my hand. His eyes flicker
ed closed at my touch.
I kissed him. He made me feel so protected and so in control at the same time. “Don’t worry. Just follow your instincts.”
At that, he took the wine glass out of my hand. “See, that’s just the thing.” He advanced on me, leaning into me as he kissed me again. “I don’t have any instincts.”
The two of us collapsed onto the blanket. I wrapped my arms around him as he buried his face in my neck. It was the two of us just being the two of us. The most natural thing in the world.
Chet
I was feeling the calmest I had since I took this job and I had just about all of it to owe to Dahlia. Being around her was like a cup of chamomile tea and a shot of whiskey all at the same time. She made me feel so relaxed and so alive. The more time I spent with her, the more I was falling for her. In the last five years, I had occupied my time with anything but women with my last several relationships going terribly.
As I stood in the box, sipping my old fashioned, I thought about what happened between Dahlia and my mother. We still hadn’t addressed her episode that morning, but I had noticed that she was going out less, taking more time to herself. I figured that would be good for her.
I gazed down at the field below. We were another full house for this Sunday game, which was great for sales. The game was well underway, and since we were almost at the end of October, the heat was barely a memory. I scanned the field for Dahlia, smiling as I caught sight of her, standing with her hands on her hips, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail, her perfect curves draped in a thick, fall blazer and cowboy boots. As she kept her stare intent on the players on the field I realized with a chuckle that she was actually watching the game. She was starting to get the hang of it.
I glanced at the scoreboard. Not good, we were losing by fifteen points at the end of the fourth quarter. I gazed down at that abysmal game for the next twenty minutes before we inevitably lost. It was the sixth game that season. If we made it to the playoffs, it would be by the skin on our nails, and even then, the Superbowl was a long shot… and yet it was being held right there, in that stadium. If the Dallas Cowboys didn’t make it to their own super bowl, my mother would never get over the embarrassment, and neither would the company. It would be my first major failure as the head of it.
This was all they could talk about at the board meeting. This time Russ sat in, being head coach, he was directly responsible for this matter, and we were joined by Dr. Ralph Little, the head of health and safety. “Look, the fact of the matter is that we are losing. We’re losing games and we’re losing money. People don’t turn on the television to watch a sure fire thing. They want a fight. Pretty soon, our own fans are not gonna be coming to these games, and what do you expect will happen to sales then?” Jerry Smith, one of the board members, and someone who had started out as my Dad’s intern twenty-five years ago said.
We both looked at Russ, who had been sitting back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs.
I almost rolled my eyes; his God complex was starting to get annoying. “Well, Russ?” I asked staring at him pointedly.
Russ shrugged. “Look, I’m not a miracle worker. If we can’t have our best players on the field, we can’t perform our best.”
Dr. Little cleared his throat. “And what are you implying.”
He shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “I just think that we might have to loosen up on all these regulations a little.”
Dr. Little frowned, flexing his mustache. “It’s not us; it’s the NFL. You wanna break the law, go right ahead, but you won’t win any games when the entire team is facing disciplinary action.”
Russ finally sat up. “It’s not just that. It’s the little things. The petty injuries. Our players are getting benched for rolled ankles and pulled muscles.”
I knew exactly what he was getting at and wanted to keep Dahlia out of this at all costs. I glowered at him. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”
Russ shrugged. “Listen, I’ve been in the business for almost twenty years. I’m telling you, it’s that new sports doctor you’ve got prancing around.”
I set my jaw.
“Now, Dr. Waters is a new hire. You can’t expect to blame systemic problems are on her.”
“My players were fine before she came along!”
Dr. Little scoffed, letting out a dry laugh. “They were not fine, and you know that. You are hanging on to them by your teeth. Now that they’re crapping out on you, you’re looking to blame the easiest target. Dr. Waters is just low hanging fruit.”
My eyes widened. I would be expected to make a decision soon to mediate. Smith just sat with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in exasperated disgust.
“If I can’t train my players and run them in practice, they just keep getting worse and worse. When they get worse, they make mistakes. When they make mistakes, they get hurt on the field. Now, when they get hurt on the field, they get benched for the season, and then we lose games. Guys this is elementary stuff. You looking’ for someone to blame, go to the water.” With that, he slammed his hand on the table.
I cleared my throat. “Well, you both make good points. The board and I will review the injuries of the season and the current team policies and come up with a mechanism for action soon.”
But even as I said that I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
There was clearly a conflict brewing, and Dahlia was smack dab in the middle of it.
Dahlia
That Wednesday morning was the first truly chilly morning we had all season. With November just around the corner, I was really starting to enjoy the cold wind and the crunch of frost-covered grass. It was nothing like the Iowa cold. I was pretty sure they had already had their first snow, but this climate was starting to grow on me. I paced back and forth on the field. Now that I had started to get the hang of the game, I was cutting my practice time to just a couple of mornings a week, and really only when I had enough time.
I stood with my arms crossed as Russ called another meeting. The players all circled around him in the middle of the practice field. I wondered what he was talking about… I let my mind wander to Chet. Over the last couple of weeks, we had gotten even closer and closer. It was at the point where I was really starting to see him as a permanent fixture in my life. We hadn’t really thrown around the boyfriend-girlfriend word yet, but I could see it coming. I smiled as I thought about the possibilities. I was really starting to feel truly settled in this place. Who would have thought that in all of my life I would have laid my first real roots in Dallas Texas?
The sound of the players yelling chants at each other took me out of my thoughts. I watched as they resumed their practice. Then just after the quarterback had yelled his calls, the sound of a player yelling out in pain caught my attention. I jogged out onto the field at the same time as Russ.
It was Collin, the team’s star running back. I sucked in a sharp breath. This was gonna suck. I could already see the fight coming with Russ because there he stood with his hands on his hips, his jaw set and the most sinister look in his eye.
I knelt down next to Collin. He was wincing in pain. “All right Collin. Where is it?”
“My knee...ugh.”
“Do you think you can stand?”
He ducked his head in exasperation. “No, the fuck I can’t!”
I grimaced, taking another deep breath. “Okay, well I’m gonna touch it now. Is that okay?”
At that, I grasped his leg and tried to move it, but he cried out in pain.
“Did you hear a sound? Like a pop.”
He nodded, his eyes wide in pain and… fear. I glanced over my shoulder at Russ, who was gazing down at the both of us, a look of complete disapproval on his face. I stood up. “Look, I need to get him on a gurney and in my office stat.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Look fine, but he needs to be on this field working, tomorrow.”
I shook my head and waited silently for the gurney. When it came, I followed them all the way t
o my office. This was actually getting to be ridiculous. I hadn't been in sports medicine very long, but I knew that it was unusual to have this many instances back to back.
After determining that it was a torn ligament with a quick x-ray and wrapping his knee, I sent him off with crutches. When I followed him out of my door, I saw Russ standing on the other side of it. This wasn’t gonna be good. I used to get really nervous, dreading our interactions. Now I was just starting to get wary of our tom and jerry relationship.
“How is it looking?” He demanded.
I crossed my arms, leaning on the doorframe. It wasn’t even lunch time and I was already over this day. “He’s not practicing tomorrow.”
“Well, I assumed on account of the crutches.”
I nodded. “It’s a torn ligament, but lucky the bones in his knee are still aligned properly, so it should heal without surgery.”
“So what’s the downtime on that. A couple days? If it’s a week, it’s gonna be a little inconvenient, but I’ll allow it.”
I shot him a look. “You’ll allow it? I’m sorry to break it to you coach, but you don’t control nature.”
“And neither do you.”
“Look, my job is to protect the players.”
“Yeah, how noble. You’re auxiliary. But you’re not my concern. What’s the verdict on Collin?”
I sighed, crossing my arms. This was not gonna be popular. “I’m benching him for the rest of the season.”
He guffawed. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“That’s my ruling.”
“No.”
Oh, Jesus. He was such a child. “What do you mean no, Russ. He’s exhausted. His body is rebelling against him. He’s already given himself lifelong damage. If you keep pushing him like this, he won’t be able to walk in his sixties.”
His eyes widened, this scary lunatic look in them. “What he does in his sixties is not my concern.”
