Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance

by Lauren Landish

  Actually, I had another question. You said you opened your first online account with five hundred bucks. Well, I've got five hundred now, and I was wondering if we could set something up?

  Think about it and tell me if you can make it Saturday.

  Troy

  From: Cory Dunham

  To: Patricia Nelson

  Subject: Happy Valentine's Day!

  Dear Patricia,

  I just wanted to send you a quick note to tell you Happy Valentine's Day, and hopefully, it’s not the crappy day it once was.

  So far, I've kept your advice and not gone too crazy here at BAC this past semester and a half. I'm actually going to take a summer semester course too, mainly because I've really got a feeling I need to finish school early. Troy's account is going gangbusters, and I'll be honest . . . I feel weird with the hokey setup we've got going now. I really shouldn't have his account login info, you know?

  But back to you. I did wake up this morning wishing that I could catch a rom-com with someone special and take them to a seafood restaurant. It's a good memory of Valentine's Day for me, and maybe some year, we could do it again.

  How's Whitney doing? When you talk to her next time, pass along my good wishes.

  Happy Valentine's Day,

  Cory

  From: Patricia Nelson

  To: Cory Dunham

  Subject: Summer Vacation

  Dear Cory,

  Sorry it took me so long to reply to your last email. It wasn't that I didn't want to, it's that I've been really working hard these past few weeks. Bana Construction got the contract for the new subdivision, and while you think that would mean I'd get a bit of slack time, it's the exact opposite. Now that we've got the contract, we've got to do subcontractors, inspections, hiring new workers, the whole works. It's gotten so bad that I've even been picking up drive-through burgers, and you know I hate those. I'm adding some weight because of it, but it seems to be mostly going on in the right places. Still, as soon as I get the spare time, I'm getting back on my bike and getting my workouts back in shape.

  I have some sad news about your short summer vacation. I won't be able to be in town those days. Trevor, my boss, really needs my help later in the summer, so back in January, I booked myself on a cruise up to Alaska during that week. It's nonrefundable, so I can't really break it.

  I can hear you now—a cruise to Alaska is something an old lady does. But I've always wanted to go to Alaska, and the price is right, since it's through a corporate friend of Trevor's. I'll probably be the youngest person on the cruise.

  I heard from Whitney. She's also doing an accelerated program in her university studies, but I still don't understand it all. She's going for her art degree, not as a painter, but on the business side. Who knows? Maybe you two can get together?

  Best of luck this summer, and maybe there's a chance that over the long weekends this fall, you might be able to come back up to Silver Lake Falls.

  Yours,

  Patricia

  From: Troy Wood

  To: Cory Dunham

  Subject: Yes, I Am!

  You heard it right, bro, I'm entering the Draft. I know, I know, I've still got a year of eligibility left, but let's be honest. I came to Clement to get my ILB, not my MBA like you, or whatever it is you're going for. Besides, they're bringing in a new coaching staff, and they want to put in a new defense. I'd rather take the jump now, because I don't see a good future for me in this new system they're talking about.

  Not like you're far behind me. I mean, you've been loading up for the entire two years. You really that worried that I'm gonna break my promise to you just because you don't have your license when I sign my rookie contract? Damn, I'm not that cold.

  I've decided that I'm going to hire Coach J to be my agent for my contract talks. I'm not going to be greedy, and the agent's percentage is something he's more than earned. Did you know he still keeps my room at his house clean for when I want to crash there? Not that I have a lot of free time, but it's nice to take Spring Break at a good place and not in Cancun or going nuts.

  Don't be a stranger.

  Troy

  From: Cory Dunham

  To: Patricia Nelson

  Subject: Coming back to visit

  Dear Patricia,

  I know it feels weird. I mean, it has been over three years since I've been back to Silver Lake Falls, the last time being Christmas my freshman year at BAC. It's my fault, and I can't blame you for not writing as much as before. It's kind of hard to work up the enthusiasm to read and reply to a guy who doesn't even come home because he's got his nose buried in a book a couple of hundred miles away.

  I got the internship I wanted, and if it works out well, I'm going to have a paid position at PacFran Investment Bank come Thanksgiving or so. They're really impressed with not only my academic record but also my personal portfolio. But I mean, four and a half years of outperforming the market when I started as a high school kid . . . that gets attention more than my GPA.

  I talked with Dad recently, and he told me that the subdivision is really doing well. I'm glad to hear it, although I feel bad that you're still working so hard.

  I know it's a long shot, but I'm going to be up in town for a little while starting in two weeks. Troy's agreed to look at funneling his investments through PacFran as long as I work for them, and he also asked me to talk with Coach Jackson about another donation he wants to make to SLHS. The amount is borderline ridiculous, so I'd like Coach's input. Also, it'll be good to see Troy in person. He and I have kept in touch, but it's always been through phone calls and emails.

  Anyway, I'm going to be up in town for a three-day weekend and was wondering if you'd like to get together for coffee or something? Nothing serious, but it'd be nice to see you again.

  Hope you get back soon,

  Cory

  From: Patricia Nelson

  To: Cory Dunham

  Subject: Sorry, I can't.

  Dear Cory,

  As much as your offer for coffee sounds great, I'm not going to be in town that weekend. Trevor's sent me on a business trip to Vegas, where there's a construction expo. To be honest, I'd rather be treated to a case of the flu than one of these things.

  These expos are all the same. I have to dress up in my snazziest skirt suit, and then I get to go around and be more or less sexually harassed by a bunch of married men who are in Vegas and think that the motto they use for tourism applies to them as well—all of it in the name of finding new contacts and connections that we might use for either sales or as suppliers.

  So anyway, that's what I get to do for four days, leaving town on Thursday and coming back Sunday night. I'll be crashing then, and probably unconscious through Monday afternoon because of it. You'll probably need to be back in San Fran by then, so it's a shame.

  On another note, I took a position at the church. It's just a volunteer youth role. I more or less teach Sunday school, but it lets me interact with little kids again. I find that I miss that, and I really wish I had more opportunities to do so.

  Oh, by the way, your old friend, Dani Vaughn, is back in town. She never really left, actually, but it seems that she and Pete Barkovich have started seeing each other again. I know, it feels a bit like a time warp to me too. Maybe when you come up, take a moment to go see her or Pete. They'd for sure love to catch up with you.

  Sorry again.

  Enjoy your trip,

  Patricia

  Chapter 5

  Cory

  Four years. To be exact, four years, one month, and eleven days since I was last on the grounds of Silver Lake High School. I don't feel like that much time has passed, but my calendar assures me that it's been that long since I graduated, and I know I've never come back to campus since then. If I need more assurance, then my still freshly-minted college diploma is hanging on the wall in my apartment back in San Francisco.

  Walking up the sidewalk, I look down, just trying to take it all in slowly. I'm even dressed pre
tty much the same way I did three years ago—jeans and a t-shirt.

  I open the front door and get hit with a wave of warm air. Oh yeah, I read about that the other week. In an attempt to save money and be more ecological, the school board decided to only run the air conditioners during the time that students are actually using the buildings. That's gotta suck for the teachers right now, here in the middle of July.

  There's a fan going in the office when I ring the bell, and a new face comes out. He's wearing a white collared polo shirt and some chinos, and from the look of him, I'd say he's most likely a teacher. “Hello?”

  “Hi, I'm Cory Dunham,” I say, offering my hand. “I called the other day to meet with Coach Jackson.”

  “Oh, I see. I'm Greg Petersen, the new English teacher,” he says. “I think Coach is down in the gym, overseeing the summer lifting for the football team. Would you like me to walk you down?”

  “No, that's okay. I'll walk down myself,” I reply. “I mean, if that's okay.”

  Mr. Petersen shrugs and waves me on with his hand. “There's no students other than the football players, and Coach is down there. Classrooms are locked for the most part. The only people you might run into are the other teachers. Any of them have it in for you?”

  “Hopefully not after four years,” I say with a laugh. “Thanks, Mr. Petersen.”

  I turn and head down the hallway, turning left to take the shortest way to the gym. I hear the players working out before I get close enough to see in the door, and I wonder if the music I listened to when I lifted was just as stupid.

  I see Coach Jackson over by one of the squat racks, a much better model than what was gracing this room when I was a Silver Fox, watching as a skinny guy who can't be a buck fifty if he's soaking wet and in boots, tries to stand up with what looks like two forty or so on his back. “Sit back, sit back . . . nope, dump it!” Coach yells, and I see the kid surge forward, the bar dropping into the two safety straps that I hadn't noticed before. “Gerald, you've got to get more tension in your belly, or else you're going to get stapled the first time you try three fifteen, like you keep saying you want.”

  “Oh, I don't know about that, Coach,” I call from the door. “I think I brought up some uglier looking lifts than that.”

  Coach Jackson turns, then breaks out in a smile. “Cory! Is it eleven already?”

  “It is, according to my watch. Don't worry, Coach. I'm free on time. Let the Foxes finish.”

  He turns the session over to one of the seniors and comes over to the door. “They're mostly screwing around now anyway. No big deal. What you used to call Beach Muscle Time, if I remember right.”

  “Yeah, most of my lifting is that, nowadays,” I joke, watching as the session breaks down just like Coach predicted, with four guys picking up curl bars and going to work with probably more gusto than they did for the real lifts. “Well, I've still got some legs. I ride a lot around San Fran. Don't know if I can still squat like I used to, but that's not because of the pipes.”

  Coach chuckles and smacks my shoulder. “Oh, I don't know. You still look in decent shape.”

  I shrug and smirk, nodding. “How're the Foxes looking this year?”

  “You kidding?” Coach says, turning around and watching the team. “These guys are stoked about Troy coming in next week to do his mini-camp with them. He's a legend around here, and I had to have five guys draw straws last season to get his numbers. Thank God that he's got three to choose from now with the one here, his Clement one, and his one with the Hawks. His Silver Fox number is in its last year though. The Boosters want to retire it after this season.”

  “Troy isn't going to like that,” I say, thinking about how different my friend is from the cocky asshole he was at one point in his life. Then again, all of us were. “No more number twelve? I think he'd throw a fit if they do.”

  “Me too, but tell that to the Boosters,” Coach says. “So what did you call about?”

  “Troy's cutting a check to the school for ten thousand,” I tell Coach.

  “So I guess you came by to ask just what it is that the school needs?”

  “Yeah. Well, that, and it's been a long time. I thought I'd do a little bit of homecoming before my internship really sinks its teeth into my butt.”

  Coach nods and gives me a smirk. “You know, you're one of the more surprising players I've got from that team. Troy I knew would go League, Pete I figured for the Navy, and Russ . . . well, that was a shame. But you . . . you hid what you could do from all of us.”

  I shrug, not wanting to tell Coach the truth, that every time I've thought of slacking off over the past four years, I remember Patricia Nelson's kiss and how I didn’t want to disappoint her.

  Coach lets my non-answer go and looks at the players. “So, you going to stick around long enough to see Troy's camp?”

  I shake my head regretfully. “Just up here for the long weekend, Coach. If Troy's in town, though, I'll stop by and see him. I haven't seen him since making a quick trip out to Berkley two years ago to watch him play, and even then, we couldn't get together after the game. What do you know about that?”

  “Sorry, I believe the Hawks have the team sequestered in Seattle until training camp is over. He's cleared for the camp and Dani's wedding.”

  “What?” I ask, caught off guard. “Dani Vaughn's getting married?”

  “Yeah, she and Pete Barkovich,” Coach tells me, surprised. “Didn't you hear?”

  “I've been . . . out of the loop,” I say, shaking my head. “To my detriment, I guess. I need to stop by her house and give my congrats.”

  “Good idea, but off, since she and Pete have already picked out a little house of their own. Actually, Dani's supposed to be stopping by in an hour or so. She invited me, or I guess, technically, Pete did, but Pete's at work today until late. He got a job with the city water department.”

  I shake my head again, amazed. “What the hell have I been doing the past four years and some change?”

  “From what I've heard, busting your butt and making something of yourself,” Coach says kindly. “I'll let you know that I'm proud to call you one of my former players, even if you never pick up a football again.”

  I smile and cough, covering the ball of emotion that's forming in my throat. “Thanks, Coach. So . . . Dani's coming by in an hour?”

  “That's what I was told—at noon, if you want to stick around. Maybe kill some time, show some of these guys what you can still do.”

  “Why not?” I say with a chuckle, going in. I shake hands and bump fists with a couple of the guys and do a light workout, mostly dips and shoulder presses, leaving me flushed but not too sweaty before seeing Dani again.

  I finish up with about ten minutes to spare, and Coach and I go back to his office, waiting for Dani. “So, what kept you out of town for so long, Cory? A special lady?”

  “No, there's nobody special in San Francisco, Coach. Actually, I guess it's okay to say it now . . . kind of the opposite. Someone special is here in Silver Lake Falls, but it probably wouldn’t work in the long run.”

  “I see. So how'd that keep you away?”

  I sit back on the couch and rub my head. “I promised myself that I would make something of myself like she wanted me to. I'm not quite there yet, but someday.”

  Coach looks at me for a minute, and he looks like he's about to say something, but before he can, there's a knock at his office door. “Coach, it's . . . Cory!”

  I look and see Dani, and I swear she hasn't changed a bit in four years. Her hair's still nearly waist-length, pulled back in her twin ponytails, and she's still just as tiny, bubbly, and cute as ever.

  “Harley!” I reply, getting up and giving her a hug. “It's good to see you. What's this about a wedding?”

  “You didn't get your invitation?” Dani asks, surprised. “But I told Mom . . . wait, it's Mom. She probably screwed up your address or email. I'm so glad you're in town then. You've kind of been the missing piece in the whole produc
tion.”

  “Well, I guess you don't need me then,” Coach says, causing Dani to roll her eyes. “Us old guys will just head off to the early bird special at the Golden Corral now.”

  “Very funny,” Dani says, reaching into her bag and pulling out an envelope. “Here, this is from Pete. He asked that you make a little speech at the reception and was hoping you'd be willing. Not best man, but still, kind of one of the people we really want to have there.”

  “Of course, Dani,” Coach says, taking the envelope. “I look forward to it. Tell Pete that I'll make sure to tell at least two embarrassing jokes about his performance in football and in history class.”

  “Make it three, and I'll slip you a fifty,” Dani jokes, then gives me a look. “Hey Coach, you mind if I take Cory here with me? I've got a lot of catching up to do with him. It's been too long.”

  “Not at all,” Coach says before he shakes hands with both of us. “And tell Pete again that he's a lucky man.”

  “Oh, he knows it,” Dani assures him. The two of us leave, and Dani's giving me sideways glances the whole time until we reach outside. “So you really didn't get the invite?”

  “Really. Why would I want to skip your wedding? Especially since it's you and Pete,” I tell her. “There's no way I'd have passed this up.”

  “Even though Whitney's coming back?” Dani asks, then stops when I give her a total open-mouthed stare. “What?”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Just you, Pete, and Patricia, and keep it that way, please,” Dani says. “Whitney's nervous as hell about coming back to town, and she's going to see Troy play the first game of the preseason before she makes any decision about telling him. I know you're still closer to Troy than most folks around town, but keep it under your hat, please?”