The Checkdown

by Jamie Bennett

  Finally we had hammered out the details in an excruciating, point by point, dollar by dollar negotiation. “Let me just run this by my manager for her approval,” the salesman said smoothly.

  My grandma had warned me about this, too. He was going to come back and say she couldn’t quite make this work, but how about a higher payment over a longer period so that I ended up paying a ton more than what we had settled on?

  “Katie? Katie Bell?”

  I looked up, and Kevin the salesman stood up. “Mason? Hi!” I answered. He came around the desk and I stood up too, and hugged him.

  “Wow, I haven’t seen you in years!” Mason Whitaker told me. “How are you doing?”

  We small-talked for a while, with the salesman impatiently waiting. I had known that Mason’s family owned the dealership, but I hadn’t known that he had taken over running it. We had been friends in high school and gone to a dance or party or two together when I had been a freshman and he was a junior.

  “Are you looking, or buying?” Mason asked me.

  “Buying, I think.” I gestured at the salesman. “We’re just finalizing things with the manager.”

  Mason got a little smirk. “I can give you the go-ahead, Kevin. Let me take a look.”

  Kevin the salesman was not happy about that, especially when Mason mentioned that he thought there might be a better deal for an old friend of his. I ended up with a lower payment over a shorter period, which worked well for me. The car would come in about two weeks.

  Mason walked me out. “How about when the car arrives, I’ll drive it over to you, and then we can go to dinner?”

  “Um, sure,” I said, and smiled at him. I had always liked Mason. “I guess I’ll hear from you soon.”

  “You definitely will, Katie. I’m looking forward to it.” I saw in the rearview mirror that he watched me drive Davis’ big SUV out of the dealership parking lot.

  Chapter 4

  Game days were always so, so fun. I got there hours early to prep and do final rehearsals. There was so much energy in the stadium. It wasn’t just a football game, it was a production that took hundreds of people to pull off. I was always nervous and eager and pumped up, and almost everyone working on game day felt the same way. Even Sam perked up and stopped complaining for five or so minutes about how much everything sucked.

  The crowd in the stadium was back to being excited after the initial shock of Davis’ injury had faded for them, and Kayden Matthews, the rookie who was filling in at quarterback, did a little better than he had in his first outing. He threw two interceptions in the first half, but he also threw a touchdown. You couldn’t get to the United Football Conference level without having skills. Maybe Kayden just needed to warm up a bit more.

  Sam and I were also having a pretty good day—a few mistakes, but nothing major. Our new tricks and stunts went over great. Trish was hard to work for, but she knew her stuff. The Woodsmen Dames did really well too, although I saw Rochelle, the head cheerleader, talking seriously to Trish out of the view of the spectators, so apparently it wasn’t a completely problem-free afternoon. I even managed to get myself on camera right before halftime to tug on my pointed left ear, my hello to my grandma, who never missed a game. I didn’t always get a chance to do it, and she and her friends at the retirement home always got a kick out of it when I could.

  I was a sweaty mess under my furry suit. The temperature at game time was 83 degrees, and it didn’t cool off considerably as the minutes marched past. Before the fourth quarter, I pulled off my Nutty head safely in the tunnels where no kids could see me and think I had decapitated their pal the Chipmunk. Sam did the same with his big Hank head and we guzzled water. My hair was wet with sweat. Dancing, running, and tumbling for an entire football game was exhausting. It was why I spent so much time working out, so I could be in shape for our season. I wasn’t sure how Sam, who (especially lately) spent most of his time drinking and smoking, could keep up.

  He sure looked gassed right now. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Then, without opening them, he poured his bottle of water over his head, so that rivulets ran down into his Hank body.

  “Sam, quit it! You’re going to mess up your costume,” I warned him.

  “I don’t give one fat rat’s ass.”

  “What’s that?” Trish was suddenly behind us. “What was that, Sam?”

  He was startled. “Nothing. We’re just resting.”

  “I want you guys in the visitor end zone.” We started to pull on our heads. “No, not you! What are you doing? Do not move a muscle.” We froze. “What’s the matter with you? Now! Go, go now!” Trish commanded.

  We stared at her helplessly through our eyeholes.

  “What are you waiting for?” Trish yelled. “Nutty and Hank, end zone, now!” We ran. Her multitasking had its disadvantages.

  In the end, the Woodsmen still lost, but it was also still the preseason, and the new guys showed off why they were worth their big contracts. Again, I took off my Nutty head, now practically gasping for air. Sweet Jesus, I was done. By the time I got the rest of my Nutty body off, all the showers had been taken by the cheerleaders. I zipped in for my turn when one gorgeous blonde walked out, extremely happy feel the cool water on my overheated skin. My face had been so red when I pulled off the costume that one of the trainers had thought I was having heat stroke and gotten an ice pack for my neck.

  There was an odd feeling in the cheerleaders’ locker room. Usually, win or lose, they were having a good time, making fun plans, talking about how great they had looked on camera or who had been in the VIP boxes watching them. Today, they were a lot quieter, and I noticed that Rochelle wasn’t there.

  Woodsmen Dame problems were not my problems. I said a few goodbyes and decided to stop at Davis’ to check in on him on my way back home. We hadn’t said anything about me coming on Sunday, but since I hadn’t seen him the day before, I felt a little obligated.

  The note was still on the front door. That was strange. It was flapping in the wind now, the tape barely holding it. Did that mean he hadn’t left the house? No, he probably was out in the back. He had a gorgeous deck and a beach behind his house on the beautiful lake, and he did have a boat pulled up on the sand. The weather had been too perfect not to go out and enjoy it.

  I knocked, but he didn’t answer. I unlocked the door, moving quietly in case he was napping again. “Davis?” The TV was on in the family room, a post-game show blaring out. He must have watched the Woodsmen play. “Davis?”

  He was on his back on the couch, surrounded by what must have been 20 empty beer bottles. He hadn’t shaved, and judging by the absence of dishes, I guessed he hadn’t eaten, either. Oh, man.

  “Hey.” I shook his shoulder gently, and when he didn’t stir, I shook it harder. “Hey!”

  His blue eyes opened, and blearily studied me. “What are you doing here? I said I was asleep. I put a note out for you.”

  “That was yesterday,” I told him. “What are you doing with yourself?”

  “Drinking.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” I moved a few bottles and sat down on the coffee table. “Have you been lying here all weekend?”

  “Is the weekend over?”

  I sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, you need to get up.” As physically tired as I was, and as large as he was, it was hard for me to pull him to his feet, but somehow I managed it. I didn’t see his crutches, so I put his arm over my shoulders and helped him down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

  “What are we doing?” he asked me.

  “You’re taking a shower and getting dressed.”

  He grinned. Oh, sweet Jesus. I hadn’t seen his smile close up yet. Yes, even in his current state, he was a handsome man. “Are you going to help me with that?”

  “Nope. Don’t put too much weight on your leg. Are you going to fall over?” I stepped away from him to test it, but he stayed upright. “Ok, go. I’m going to make you something to eat.”

  I
picked up the bottles and heated up some of the food I’d carefully prepared on Friday and left for him in the refrigerator with detailed instructions on how to cook it. I listened as I did so for any giant thumps and noises coming from the bathroom. A guy that size would cause quite a commotion if he fell and I was sure that I’d hear it.

  A long, long time later, Davis came back into the kitchen, his blonde hair dripping down onto his shoulders. He sat on a bar stool, and rested his forehead in his big hand. His eyes were closed.

  Silently, I put a plate and fork, as well as a large glass of water, on the counter in front of him.

  “Thank you,” he said, not opening his eyes.

  I waited.

  He started to eat, and I saw the color come back into his cheeks. I kept an eye on him as I went around straightening up the room and making a list of what I needed to do on Monday. I loved a good list and I didn’t see any shortage of tasks.

  It was a long time later that he finally spoke. “They played like crap.”

  I nodded slowly. “There were some errors.”

  “Some errors? The linemen aren’t working together. The receivers don’t know their routes.” He went on and on, then he paused. “Matthews played better.”

  “Three interceptions,” I commented.

  “The first one was all nerves. The third one wasn’t his fault.”

  I nodded again. “Have you talked to him at all since you were injured?”

  “Why would I talk to him?” Davis snarled, and I shrugged.

  “Just a thought.” I studied him for a moment. “I think you need to get out of the house.”

  “Where am I going to go?” He gestured at his leg. “You saw how everyone was gawking at me at the doctor’s office.”

  “How about down to the water? It looks so nice today.”

  “I can’t walk in the sand.”

  I took his empty plate and put it in the sink. “We can go on the deck, then.”

  I opened all the French doors and let the warm, clean air blow into the kitchen and family room. I walked over to Davis, and put his arm around my shoulders again. “Lean on me.”

  We went outside and he took a deep breath and turned his face up to the sun. I led him over to the steps. “Did you ride the stationary bike today?”

  “No.” He paused. “Not yet. And before you ask, not yesterday, either.”

  “Too busy?”

  He looked down at me, under his heavy arm, and I started to laugh. His lips actually twitched a little in response. He slowly sank down, leaning against a railing. I put my bare feet in the sand and felt it run between my toes.

  “I hate this,” Davis said suddenly and pretty violently.

  “Which part? The pain, the uncertain future, the lack of control, the helpless dependence on someone else?” I held up my hands. “It definitely sucks.”

  “Are you talking about this from personal experience?”

  I nodded. “My own, and helping others. I’m telling you, being sick is the worst. I know it. I don’t blame you for all the beer, not one bit. But you have to do the bike, you have to eat well, you have to do what you can to help yourself too. As much as it sounds stupid and trite, your attitude is going to either help you or hurt you.”

  He nodded slightly.

  “Ok, life lessons are now over. The doctor is out!” I closed my eyes and yawned. It had been a long, long day for me.

  “I saw you today.”

  I opened my eyes to look at him. “Me, as in Nutty? Yeah, I knew I got some TV time.”

  “Why did you pull your ear at the camera?”

  I laughed. “That’s how I say hi to my grandma. It’s like our secret handshake. She’s a huge Woodsmen fan.” I told him about seeing her the day before. “She’s quite interested in you,” I finished. “In fact, you have a number of fans at the Lakeview Cottage for Senior Living.”

  “That’s where she lives?”

  “Mmhm. I couldn’t work and take care of her like she deserved. Like she needs. It wasn’t safe for her to be alone so much. Lakeview’s all right.” I swept my arm out toward the water. “It doesn’t really have a lake view, not like this. Only from the corner of the parking lot if you really strain your eyes. And it’s not much of a cottage, either.” I yawned again. “Wow, I’m not used to the performances yet! We had a few mistakes today, too.”

  “That’s what the preseason is for. But no one’s looking at your mistakes.”

  We were having a normal conversation and getting along. I felt a burst of happiness. Maybe we could be friends, even! Davis—

  “They’re busy all wondering why the hell there’s vermin running around at a football game doing summersaults,” he continued.

  I turned back to look at the water. Ok, yeah.

  “How did you end as a guinea pig, anyway?”

  “The Chipmunk,” I said.

  “Right, a different kind of small animal.”

  “No,” I told him, my dander up. “I’m not just a chipmunk, I’m the Chipmunk.”

  He huffed. “Ok, how did you become the mascot rodent?”

  I ground my teeth. “You know, it was a really competitive process to get the Nutty job. There were a lot of other hopefuls.”

  “So many people wanted to be the rat,” Davis put in.

  My temper flared more. “I won the job. I was the best rat—” Sweet Lord.

  Davis made a sound between another huff, a snort, and…a chortle?

  “I meant a chipmunk!” I paused. “I meant, the Chipmunk.” I kicked my foot in the sand. “It was hard,” I finished lamely. “Not everyone could do it.” I liked him better when he was silently brooding. I sighed. Chipmunks were just not going to command the respect I thought they deserved. Years of dance and gymnastics and hours of practice and hard work and training had led to people thinking I was a giant, annoying rat. “How about you?” I asked him. “How did you end up playing football?”

  He stared out into the distance over the calm water of the lake. “It’s always been football for me.”

  “Did you play other sports? Instruments? Were you in the school play?”

  Now his blue eyes pinpointed me. “I played football.”

  We stayed outside a while longer, then Davis started to struggle to his feet. I should have brought him a chair. He went inside and got on the stationary bike like his doctor had told him he had to, and after I told him goodbye and he made some type of sound in response, I went home.

  My street was full of little houses that looked exactly like mine, tiny ranch homes lined up neatly in straight rows on either side. There wasn’t a lot of charm in the architecture. What made our street so great was that when the houses had been thrown up, someone had decided that they should plant a lot of trees. Now tall, graceful oaks lined the street, making it look stately and elegant. Somehow that had carried over into how people took care of their houses, too. We all painted, and swept, and weeded, and planted annuals in the spring and raked up the leaves in the fall. Maybe the buildings were small and mundane, but I thought it was the prettiest street in town.

  I was kind of drooping by the time I hopped out of Davis’ car and got inside my teensy home. When I said that the houses were little, I meant it. A tour would take about a minute: small bedroom, smaller bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen. Barely enough room to swing a cat, as my grandpa would have said (not that he would have done that, since he really loved animals).

  Some of my neighbors had remodeled, throwing on an addition in the back or even a second story, but my house was mostly untouched from when it had been built post-war in 1947. Last year I had finally bitten the bullet and bought a new stove, and sometime in the 70s my grandparents had purchased a lovely green refrigerator that was still running. Home improvements were really not their line, and I hadn’t had the time and other resources to do a lot, either. Nevertheless, I loved my little house. It was perfect for me, and full of wonderful memories. I wouldn’t have traded it for a mansion.

&nb
sp; I put down my game day supply backpack at the door and rubbed my eyes. “Wow, Julian, what a day!” I called. “I think it must be midnight by now, right?” I went to my bedroom to sit down, because the living room didn’t hold any actual furniture anymore except for my stool with paint on it. “But the game was good. As of yesterday morning, I would have sworn that we were going to make fools of ourselves, but Sam always pulls through in a crunch. What am I going to do about that guy? I can’t keep going to his apartment and personally forcing him to go to rehearsals with me. If he really doesn’t want the job as Hank anymore, I’ll bet there would be a line of people who do! He doesn’t appreciate what he has.” Julian would understand that. He always could see beauty and grace in the little things. I remembered sitting with him on the porch, watching a spider in a dewy web.

  “It’s magical,” he had said. “Life is just a wonder, huh, Katie?”

  Luckily those memories didn’t make me cry, not anymore. “Then I went over to Davis’ house, and I’m glad I did,” I continued. “I had to crash his pity party.” I sighed. “That sounded mean. I understand why he was so down, I totally do. You get it.”

  I picked up the framed picture that always sat next to my bed, and rubbed my sleeve over the glass to remove the fingerprints. And lip prints. “I hope it will work out for him,” I said softly. “Even if he makes fun of Nutty and calls me a hamster. I hope his career isn’t over and the surgery goes well. I’m taking him in on Tuesday. So do what you can, ok?” I ran my fingertips over the sweet face looking up at me from the frame.

  I wandered into the kitchen to get something to eat. “I told you I ran into Mason Whitaker, right? He’s running his dad’s car dealership. I think you liked Mason. Not particular friends, but you guys got along.” I slathered peanut butter on bread. Cooking big meals for Davis was one thing, cooking for myself, solo, was not something I really enjoyed. My grandma and I had loved being in the kitchen together, but when I was in there by myself, it just made me feel…lonely. “I guess I am kind of lonely,” I admitted to Julian. “I have plenty of friends, and I have Grammy, and of course I have you.” I didn’t want to say I out loud, but it would have been nice to have someone to snuggle up with at night in my little bed. I thought of Mason Whitaker and his offer to take me to dinner, and then shrugged the idea out of my mind.