The Checkdown

by Jamie Bennett

  The thought of beds also reminded me that tomorrow Lindy and I were going to work on the upstairs of Davis’ house while he was at his appointments. They were flying in a surgeon from Detroit to consult on the operation. Apparently she was the key knee person for all the players in the United Football Confederation, and there were plenty of injuries to keep her busy. Football was a rough sport; not just the one-off hits, but also the day to day grind of all the workouts, practices, and games. It could wear a body down.

  “Lindy’s baby will be born in the spring,” I mentioned, thinking of her, then realizing that I sounded wistful. “I’ll be an aunt. She and Logan will be great parents.” I studied my flat stomach. “I think I’d be a good mom. I’m not ready for that, you know?” He knew. He knew me better than anyone else. I finished the sandwich and contemplated my next move. Sometimes the nights felt very long. I painted for a while, but I liked the natural light of day, so I brushed my teeth and went back into the bedroom. I took off my shorts and lay down on the bed in just my t-shirt. It was too hot in the room to go to sleep. I looked out the window up at the stars and thought about Julian, and then at one point, I must have drifted off. I dreamed about him, the two of us out on the lake, sailing and swimming in the summer sun.

  It was a wonderful way to spend the night.

  ∞

  “Lindy, I swear to God…”

  She quickly stood upright from where she had been picking at the lock on the door handle. “You must be curious, too. A little?” Lindy asked me. “I couldn’t see anything from outside. The curtains are all closed.”

  “Isn’t it enough that you have unfettered access to his bedroom? Come on, I’m serious. Leave that door alone.” I put down another load of dirty laundry. Davis seemed to have been stockpiling it in the back of his closet. I wondered if he even knew he had a washer and dryer or if he just bought new stuff when he didn’t have anything to wear because all his clothing was all in that disgusting, grimy mountain. He was a slob!

  I didn’t want Lindy going down the stairs carrying things in her arms so she might fall, and I didn’t want her to lift anything too heavy either, so I had been going up and down myself, numerous trips. Every time I did, I got madder at Davis. An adult should be able to do laundry. Also, an adult should have been able to say hello and ask how I was doing when I came in that morning, rather than grunting a greeting as he went yet another mile on the stationary bike in his home gym and then lifted arm weights and did crunches. Like, a thousand of them. I had silently driven him to the doctor and planned to pick him up there shortly.

  “Sorry,” Lindy said, gesturing at the door and looking a little ashamed. “It’s like, when a secret is there, right in front of me…”

  “Says the woman who didn’t bother to tell me about her freaking baby. No, I’m kidding. But you’re not even supposed to be here.” Davis had told me not to “invite” my friends over. Well, I considered Lindy to be another employee, but I felt like he wouldn’t share that opinion. So all this cleaning and straightening was being done on the sly. “It’s probably football memorabilia. He must have a ton of trophies and awards and I haven’t seen that stuff anywhere else in the house.”

  “We haven’t been down in the basement yet,” she pointed out. “Maybe he has boxes down there, and reserves this room as his Bluebeard space. You told me he was a jerk.”

  “Yeah, he’s not my favorite person, that’s for sure. But I feel like we would have heard if he had multiple wives. He can’t even sneeze without someone writing about it.” In fact, just that morning I had found a guy in the bushes with a camera, and it had scared me to death. I called the police, and Mr. Pauley, my contact at the Woodsmen, but the photographer had taken off, fast. I understood more and more Davis’ issues with information getting leaked, if he was stumbling over reporters when he opened his front door. Mr. Pauley said that the team was planning a press release after the surgery the next day, which would help to cut down on the speculation and hopefully the intrusions, too.

  “Are we on for Wednesday?” Lindy asked me, as we went up the stairs, yet again. “Everett is really looking forward to meeting you. You already stood him up once, so this time you have to come for sure.”

  “Lindy…”

  “You need to get out of the house!” she told me. “It’s not good for you to sit there every night by yourself.”

  “I get out plenty.”

  She just looked at me. She knew the truth.

  “I get out some. I’m busy! I told you that I’m going to see Mason Whitaker, right?”

  “You told me maybe.”

  “Well, if he calls, I’ll make it definite,” I said confidently.

  “So why don’t you just call him first?”

  “Where should we start, bedroom or bathroom?” I asked her, picking up the bucket of cleaning supplies.

  Lindy stared at me some more. “I’m right about this, Katie. You need to try again. I know you guys were Romeo and Juliet kind of love, but living this way, alone, it’s not what Julian would have wanted for you, and you know it.”

  A wave of guilt washed over me. She had no idea what she was talking about. “Lindy, you’re my best friend, and I love you. But don’t ever say things like that to me again. Julian’s not here to tell us what he wanted. Don’t put words in his mouth.”

  We were quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she told me. “And I’m sorry I’m pushing you. I’m worried and I don’t know how to help.”

  “I swear I’m ok,” I told her. “I swear it. Let’s start in the bathroom.”

  We did, then scrubbed down the bedroom, too. As Lindy vacuumed her way out into the hall, I dusted the top of the bureau, and then the table next to Davis’ bed, much nicer with a freshly-washed comforter and new sheets. I ran my hand over his pillow, where he had rested and dreamed, over the mattress where he had laid his big body down to sleep. Then I laughed at myself, and followed Lindy out of the bedroom.

  Many loads of laundry later, I left to go to the doctor’s office, and Lindy left to conjure up some hors d'oeuvres samples for a possible catering client. I gave her an envelope of cash and told her it was from Davis. She and Logan needed it even more if a surprise baby was on the way.

  Davis was quiet when I picked him up. I tried to hold it in, but eventually I had to ask him. “What did the new doctor say about the surgery tomorrow?” I glanced over and saw his jaw clench.

  “She’s confident that she can fix it.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?” I nodded in answer to my own question.

  “She said at least a nine-month recovery.”

  “Ok, but that’s still a recovery. Still a positive.”

  “Nine months?” Davis turned to glare at me. “Nine fucking months?”

  “It could be shorter. The doctors don’t know everything. Maybe you’re a really fast healer. Maybe once they get in there it won’t be as bad as they thought.”

  His jaw actually cracked. “I’m trying not to say something rude to you, but it’s hard when you’re so relentlessly upbeat.”

  I glanced up at the sky. “I heard it’s going to rain later, a bad thunderstorm. How’s that for negative?” I paused. “It’s really sticky outside. Won’t it be nice if it rains and breaks the heat?” I asked, then stopped myself. “Oops, sorry. I switched back to being positive.”

  He made that funny sound again, like a deep gurgle, and I looked at him curiously. “Is that your laugh?”

  “I coughed.”

  “Your room looks one thousand percent better. We—I—cleaned the whole upstairs. You don’t have to go up and look, but take my word for it. Much better. Um, why was your house such a mess?”

  “I used to have a lady come over and clean, but she stole a lot of money. And my college championship ring.”

  “Oh, my Lord! Did you get it back? Did she pay you back?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want people in my stuff.”

  My guilty thoughts went to the locked room downst
airs. “I’m not trying to pry, but you were kind of living like an animal.”

  “Well, you’re the one who has the experience with rodents.”

  “You’re a laugh riot,” I told him huffily, and he made that chortling sound again. It was a laugh, I was sure of it. “Hey, can we take your boat out this afternoon if it isn’t raining?”

  “I don’t know how to sail.”

  I stared at him for a second then put my eyes back on the road. “Then why do you have a boat?”

  “You know Cesar?”

  “Hidalgo? The tight end? Yeah.”

  “It’s his. He comes over and uses it.”

  Hm. Maybe he did have a friend. Maybe that’s what he was always doing on his phone, texting or something. He wasn’t at all active on social media, and I knew the team was always shutting down fake accounts in his name. But maybe he wasn’t the loner I thought he was.

  “Why don’t we go—” I started to say, but Davis cut me off.

  “I’m tired,” he said flatly. “I want to go home.”

  So that’s what we did. He went back into his room and I didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon. I spent my time organizing the kitchen and prepping a dinner to put in the oven for him, feeling like this was by far the easiest job I’d ever had in my life even if Davis was a pill, and talking myself out of the feeling that I was taking advantage of him. I tapped on his door softly before I left and he barked at me to come in.

  “I’m leaving,” I told him. “Dinner is in the oven. Let it sit on the counter to rest for about ten minutes before you try to cut it. What time should I be here tomorrow to drive you over?”

  “You should stay the night.”

  “What?”

  He had been lying with his forearm over his eyes, but he lowered it now to stare at me. “Stay. The. Night. We have to be there at six.”

  “AM?”

  He just continued to look at me.

  “Well, that is pretty early. I guess I can pack a bag and come back here,” I said consideringly.

  “You can work on that conundrum some more elsewhere. I want to sleep.” He covered his eyes back up.

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Fine. I’ll be back after my rehearsal.”

  Davis mumbled something.

  “What?”

  “Rat practice,” he said clearly, and I stuck my tongue out again.

  Chapter 5

  I went over to Woodsmen Stadium after I left Davis’ house. It was unclear to me if Sam was going to join me there. On my way, I called him, but Dotty (whom Sam winningly referred to as his common-law wife) said she didn’t know where he was and had hung up on me. Jeez, it was his job! He had made a commitment to show up, and that was what he was paid for—and, by the way, paid a whole lot more than I got.

  The cheerleaders’ locker room was empty. I changed quickly, wondering where everyone else was. Miracle of miracles, Sam arrived not too much later. We had a few new things from Trish to learn, but we spent most of our time working out, doing exercises with bands, stretching, and finally running around the field.

  I kept expecting the Woodsmen Dames to show up, but there was still no sign of them. Usually Trish liked to use the next day after a game as a chance to show their routines on the big screens in the stadium and pick apart their mistakes in horrifyingly large detail.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked, as we rounded the pylon at the back of the end zone and started back up the other side of the field.

  Sam was wheezing. “How many miles are we doing?”

  “We haven’t even done one yet. Keep it up.”

  We had made it to the opposite endzone before he answered my question. “I heard something happened in the locker room. They’re having a team meeting.”

  “What happened?”

  “Something got stolen yesterday out of a locker, during the game. I was talking to security before I came in.”

  In other words, he had been shooting the shit with Lyle the security guard to kill time rather than practicing with me. “What got stolen?”

  “Rochelle’s ring, that’s what Lyle said. But they’re keeping it very quiet. Don’t want to tarnish the Woodsmen Dame brand.”

  “Oh no, Rochelle’s new engagement ring is gone?” She had been inordinately proud of it and had shown it off to everyone, even me. But she was keeping up appearances during the games and didn’t wear it: single ladies got more attention from the camera and on social media, and she was trying to build her brand. I kept wondering how her fiancé felt about that.

  “I don’t know what ring it is. I heard Rochelle went back into the locker room during the game for some reason, to get a new shoe or shirt or something, and it was gone.”

  “They’ll be able to see who did it. There are cameras everywhere.” Sam wiped his forehead and hawked a big loogie which I had to dodge. “Ew!”

  “There are cameras in the ladies’ locker room?” He had a speculative look on his face.

  “If there are, you won’t be seeing any of that footage, you dirty old man.”

  The cheerleaders came out on the field then and we ran past them. Trish looked furious and a lot of the women looked like they had been crying. One or two still were. Sam whistled softly. “Looks like it was a bad meeting.” Things only got worse for them once they sat down on the sidelines to watch the dances up on the screens and Trish began berating them while holding her phone to her ear.

  “Look at your spacing, Carly. Terrible! Marin, you were two beats behind everyone else. If the casserole burned, then you’ll have to make sandwiches. I’m not there to do it for you. Look at those feet! Didn’t anyone ever teach you girls to point? No, do your homework before video games. Sandra: rushing, always rushing.” Then the dreaded, “Who is that in the back? Aviva? Does your uniform still fit you? How much weight have you put on?” Sam and I glanced at each other and ran faster. No reason to give her an excuse to yell at us, too.

  “Ok, I’m calling it,” I told him after a while. We slowed to a walk, panting. A little over five times around the field made about a mile, and our goal was always a five-mile run. It was so boring that it seemed like we had run a hundred laps instead of 25. The cheerleaders had moved into small groups to go through their routines but they were all whispering together instead of dancing when Trish’s eyes weren’t on them. I wondered what was going to happen in the locker room later. “See you Wednesday?” I asked Sam.

  He shrugged. “Dotty may have something for me to do.”

  I tilted my head and looked at him.

  “All right, fine, you little pissant. I can’t stand your nagging.”

  “I never said a word,” I reminded him.

  Davis’ house was pitch black when I got there, but the dishes from dinner were in the sink, so I knew that he had been up at one point and eaten. I went quietly up the stairs and settled in one of the back bedrooms. I unpacked the little I had brought, the clothes and Julian’s picture. I took a quick shower, very glad that Lindy and I had cleaned everything.

  It was strange to be in a different house, and I tossed and turned for a while. I hadn’t slept outside of my own bed for a long time. I tried to think of the last time I had been somewhere else. Even when my friend Serena got married downstate, I had ended up driving back home for the night. Maybe…I thought hard but nothing was coming to mind. When had I last gone on vacation, anyway? We had visited Quebec on a class trip our junior year of high school to study French. Had it really been that long since I’d been away from home?

  Sweet Lord, that was depressing. Maybe after I had worked for the Woodsmen for a while in my new job, after I was done helping Davis, maybe I would take a real vacation. Where would I go? Florida? California? I could go farther. Europe? Mexico? I could go wherever I wanted.

  Of course, I’d be doing it alone. I shook off that thought. I would take my grandma. We would go somewhere wheelchair accessible and both enjoy ourselves. I went to sleep with that as a firm goal in my mind.

 
Davis didn’t drink coffee. Damn. I searched through the cabinets again the next morning, so early I could have thrown up, but I couldn’t find any. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen a pot when I’d reorganized the kitchen. I rested my forehead against a cabinet. I needed coffee! It was like lifeblood.

  “Ready?”

  I lifted my heavy head to stare at him. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  “I like you better in the mornings,” Davis told me when we were in the car on our way.

  “Huh?” I yawned.

  “You’re a lot quieter. It’s refreshing.”

  “Yeah, well, you can suck an egg.” I yawned again. “I hate mornings. And you don’t have any coffee.”

  “It’s not good for you.”

  That from the man who had lived on a liquid diet of beer over the weekend. “I like it anyway. And I’m pretty sure it is good for you. Doctors change their opinions all the time about things. They’re often wrong.” He was silent, and I realized we were driving to the hospital to have his knee operated on by the doctors I was maligning. “I mean, about nutrition, they seem to go back and forth a lot. Not about knee problems.”

  Davis and I had to wait in a lobby before they called him back for the pre-op stuff. He leaned his head against the wall, big headphones over his ears. His hands were fisted in his lap. The lobby was mostly empty of other patients, but there were a few, and they did stare at him.