He wasn’t worried about what they would do to him, of course, but was he ready to ask forgiveness? Back at almost the beginning when Rochelle had shown up with those signs, he’d thought, “Sure, my Black teammates know I care about them.” But once he said this, then he had to acknowledge that “on the field” he didn’t realize he had added internally. Fuck.
The creak of footsteps on the porch stairs made him look up. Rochelle was headed towards him, a concerned look on her face. “Jack, are you okay?”
“I can’t do this right now, Rochelle. Go finish your food.” He didn’t mean it to come out like that, did he?
“Excuse me? Did you just tell me what to do?” Her voice was pissed off, the look on her face one he hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Yeah. And you should listen. I’m not the man my mom wanted me to be, Rochelle, I’m not even who you think I can be. All the Ta-Nehisi Coates articles in the world aren’t going to fix it. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.” Well, there it was.
“Oh.” She said one word, barely a breath, and turned and walked up the steps and back inside. Jack closed his eyes and just felt. Turned inside out. Empty. Mean. Hopeless.
More footsteps made him open his eyes again. Cedric was carrying a full plate and a beer. “Ceci said that even if you were going to disrupt our meal you still needed some food. It’s not as hot, but it’s still good.”
“I’m not hungry.” He sounded like a petulant five-year-old, but Cedric did have kids, so maybe he’d know what to do.
Cedric pulled over a table that held a planter in warmer times and put the plate and the beer on it. “Listen, man, you know you don’t have to do this by yourself, right?” He patted Jack on the back and pulled over the matching chair—but instead of sitting in it, he positioned it so Jack could rest his ankle.
“What?” Jack reached over and took the beer. It was right there, after all.
Cedric chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You think we don’t see you? Jack, we know you. We see you looking at Rochelle. I see you looking at that sign in our yard, like you don’t know whether to kick it or wave it around.”
“Y’all have done so much for me already. I wouldn’t have made it these past few weeks without you. I mean, roof over my head, food on my plate—and at my place at the table. Before this season, I was always able to take care of myself, and now I need y’all for so much already, and I hate it!” Jack wasn’t ready for all that truth to come flying out at once. He put the beer bottle down to firmly on the arm of the chair and it splashed on him. “And the more I learn, the more—like, y’all shouldn’t be helping me. Serving me.”
“Yeah, we could’ve left you in the hospital room. We didn’t have to rearrange the furniture so you could stay downstairs. But we did. Should or shouldn’t, we’re in a position to choose what we want to do now, and we chose to help you. Suck it up.” Cedric’s big hand squeezed his shoulder. Maybe a little tighter than necessary. “Now tell Uncle Cedric what the fuck is wrong with you, and why you made that sweet girl look like someone had punched her in the stomach.”
“She just wants so much.” Was this really going to all come up, like a vomit ball of good intentions and past failures? “And I know she’s right, but I keep adding up the cost, and I know it’s worth it, and the cathedral said it was blessed to suffer for justice, but I want to figure out the best way, and how to do it, and now I just want to throw up. How can she thank God for justice when it’s obvious that she’s never going to get any?”
Cedric’s smile was smug. “Ceci was right, huh? The cathedral got to you.”
“Yeah.” Jack heaved out a sigh. It made him tired, to be known like that.
“Okay,” Cedric said. “All those costs you’re counting, you’re not doing it alone, you don’t bear them alone. It’s a lie from the pit of hell that you can do any good thing alone. Folks have been doing this for a long time. Now tell me about the blessings.”
“Well, Rochelle, she’s the biggest blessing. But I’m so scared I won’t be enough, that I’ll fuck it up again and again. I’ve seen her mad, and it hurts.” The skin on his stomach contracted as he remembered the punches she’d hit him with after the New Orleans game fiasco.
Cedric nodded and then tilted his head expectantly. “Any other blessings?”
“It’s hard for me to see past her,” Jack admitted.
“Maybe friends that love you and that bring you food even when you’ve stomped off in a huff?”
“Oh right, that’s a good one. Y’all are a blessing.”
“That’s right. You can’t earn us, Jack. Friends are a grace. And since Ceci said the spirit moved her after she saw your sad face after you broke your ankle, we’re friends.”
Jack ran both his hands through his hair and pulled on his neck. God, if this was just a person he could tackle. He knew that, he was good at that, he enjoyed that. “Thanks, Cedric.” It killed him so much of this was just being still.
“Now, tell me what you were thinking about, that would make such a big cost.”
Jack sighed. Since the cathedral, he’d been gripped by one single idea.
Rochelle walked away from Jack, past the crowd of people and her half-eaten plate and went straight to her room. She clung to the peace from the cathedral. She’d been feeling peace and even joy when she’d said her thankful things downstairs. And now there was still peace, but it was bleak. Jack had been dismissive before, a little slimy, but never, never had he been straight up unkind. Did he really mean it? Mary’s face at the cathedral came to her again. Yeah, he could mean it.
She folded and unfolded her hands, twisted them together. Had he broken up with her? Were they together before? Definitely friends. Possibly friends who liked to cuddle. Hell, he was her family’s benefactor. They both tried to forget that as often as possible. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.
Okay. He didn’t have to do it. She still had her life and her peace—long-searched-for peace. She didn’t actually need him to do anything. Was it supposed to hurt this much though? Should’ve never hopped in to that truck.
She’d come to St. Louis for answers—she’d gotten too many. She’d gotten a taste of what life could be like as she watched the Gormans, and now she knew she wouldn’t have it. She took a breath and let the bleakness settle over her.
8
Shit shit shit—it was finally game day. Before his ankle was broken Jack had game day all mapped out and under control. Now he just had to show up on time, dressed in team gear. He’d had a shaky feeling in his stomach ever since his conversation with Cedric on Thursday.
He’d choked out an apology to Rochelle later that day, but she’d just looked at him with empty eyes and shook her head. She stayed upstairs except when she went to walk in the park across the street. Her flight home was not until late Sunday, so she was stuck. He’d begged Ceci to get Rochelle to the game—fortunately an early game today—and she’d reluctantly agreed.
It was November in St. Louis, so he had a coat and a hat and sweatpants on. More importantly, he had his plan. He’d talked with Cedric, Cedric had gotten in touch with this young guy he knew, and the whole thing had taken like an hour. Jack still had acid rising in his stomach.
All he was going to do was to take off his coat. How hard could this be? Some people, he supposed, flung themselves gladly onto the pyre for justice. He was filled with trepidation. He wanted to do it. He was more apprehensive of this than trying to take down that running back that hated interviews and never stopped running.
The coach wrapped up the final meeting, Cedric came and gently tapped him on the head. “You’re gonna be great, man. I believe in you.”
The dressed-out players headed to the tunnel for their fancy entrance to the field. Jack crutched along to the bench to wait. Finally, the local celebrity stepped on the field, microphone in hand. Jack took off his coat and pulled himself to standing with his crutches.
“Please join us in singing our NA-tion-AL ANTHEM!” the field announcer said.
/>
How was she at another fucking NFL game? Well, she wasn’t sure New Orleans would let her back in the Superdome, so maybe it was her last chance for a game. She kinda thought she’d be done with football forever when she got home. It’d taken hours of park walking to come to terms with the fact that life was just going to go on.
Her belly started to turn upside down as the national anthem was announced. The opposing team had some players that had done protest gestures this season so she stood up to watch them. She was surprised when Ceci bumped her.
“Look, sweetie.” Ceci pointed at the giant screen at the end zone. Jack was on it. He was not wearing a coat, and instead of a team shirt, like she would have expected, he was wearing a black shirt with white writing. BLACK LIVES MATTER, it said. And a little bit lower down, it said JONATHAN FOX’S LIFE MATTERS. And in between was an alternating row of fleur de lis and raised fists
It wouldn’t have worked on someone who was smaller, but his frame was big enough to hold the whole message. And then he raised his fist. He wobbled on his crutches but was quickly joined by some teammates who squeezed in on both sides to keep him upright. The singer’s voice faltered for a second but then carried on. The stands went silent.
She cried and laughed and cried again. He’d really done it. She was proud and angry and exultant, and mourning again for her cousin. He’d chosen. He’d chosen her family. He’d chosen her. This act had been incomprehensible to him at summer’s end, but he’d done it—probably not all by himself, but without her asking.
* * *
Once again Rochelle was beckoned by an usher. “Go on,” Ceci encouraged. It was almost the end of the third quarter, though she hadn’t been watching the game, except when Ceci told her to watch Cedric. Jack was gone from the on-field bench, and she didn’t know what had happened to him.
“I’ll see you later, I guess.” Rochelle waved at Ceci and the kids and followed the usher to the depths of the stadium.
He was there, again in a little room, maybe looking defiant, sitting straight back, bowed up on the metal folding chair. But when he saw her, his eyes softened and his body slumped.
“Rochelle, you came.” He barely breathed it out. “You know you didn’t have to.”
She crossed the room to stand in front of him. “So it’s not enough that I accidentally half-ruin your career, but now you have to do it all the way?”
“Yeah, I guess? I mean, maybe not. Maybe there’s a woke team out there who’ll take a chance on me next year. I mean, I’m white.”
“But Jack—” She reached out to touch his face lightly, skimming her finger down the side of his nose, “Why?”
“Well, I wanted to do more. And I wanted to do more for you, for your cousin. And Cedric said this would probably be the most powerful. So I don’t know what’s going to happen—if I’ll still have a job after this game, if that cameraman is going to get fired, or any endorsements left—I mean, I’m not even sure about my foundation. But—” He reached out to take her hands. “I know I said sorry, but I want you to know that I mean it. I fell apart because I put too much pressure on myself when I had all these people around me who love me, who can lead me. I was wrong. I took it out on you.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “The other day, Ro, at the cathedral, I really—I really thought we were about to have a moment, some time to talk about everything that’s happened this season. And then that fan came and then Ceci came back and it just didn’t happen. But I never would’ve asked to walk alongside you without joining you in the fight. I know I can’t know the full cost, and it seems foolish to hope for a lot of happy but Rochelle, I want to do this together with you.” He let go of her to grab his crutches and fumble around for a moment.
“Fuck. Rochelle, if it weren’t for these damn crutches and damn ankle I’d be down on my knees. I am humbled before you. I hurt you, I have hurt you, I’ll probably hurt you again. But I want to do better, and I want to do it with you.”
Rochelle was stunned. She opened and closed her mouth, her hands went in her hair, blood flooded her cheeks, her heartbeat pounded in her ears. For a second she couldn’t breathe. And then her breath came in a whoosh and her brain started working again and her heart exploded.
She put her hands back into his. “Jack. Are you serious?”
His head jerked back, his eyes wide. “I want more, Rochelle.”
“More?”
“More…anything, everything. More than texts. More than football banter. I want time with you. Plans with you. Minecraft with your students. Beignets with you. Protesting injustice by any means necessary.” He pulled her to him. “And God, can I please kiss you, Rochelle?”
She teetered next to him. “If I sit on this leg will it hurt?”
“I don’t care.” Suddenly she discovered what it was like to be hugged passionately by a NFL player. Maybe she needed to suit up for it next time.
“Hey, gotta breathe,” she pounded on his chest.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry.”
“Let’s try this instead.”
He wasn’t even ready, but she kissed him anyway. The soft sounds, the tightness of his grip on her side, ah, finally. Her body was singing. Finally she was close to him.
She had both hands on his face, trying to get deeper, more, when she realized his response had lessened…and that she had braced her feet on his booted ankle. She looked at him, her eyes wide with apology, trying to transition from lust to concern.
“Holy fuckin’ shit.” His hands were trembling on her hips as he gently moved her from sitting on his lap to standing. “You better be glad I love you, Rochelle.”
“I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
He shook his head and laughed at her. “It’s okay, Ro. It’s okay, but fuck. Let’s go find my pain meds. Or maybe I can get a shot if the trainers are still here.”
“So, point of clarification?” She bit at her thumbnail before speaking again. “You just said you loved me.”
He heaved up onto his crutches. “Yep. I did. But since you jolted me out of my lovemaking by standing on my ankle we’re not going to be consummating our love in that room.”
“Oh, we were going to? People do that?”
“Listen, I’ve seen Cedric and Ceci coming out of rooms like this all the time. How do you think they have all those kids?”
“They have a very nice bedroom at their house!”
“Yeah, but you count back from their kids’ birthdays? Cedric’s got a W every time.”
“Well, that’s none of our business.”
“I’m just saying there are shenanigans to be got up to in this sports arena.” He was actually beaming. She hadn’t seen him like this ever.
“Well, let’s save the shenanigans for after your ankle isn’t hurting, okay?”
He turned back to look at her, his hands clenched tight on the grips of his crutches. “So yeah, Rochelle?”
“Yeah, I love you Jack, and yeah, I’ll take down the system with you. And I hurt you all the time too, so we’ll just get really good at forgiveness.” While he was on his crutches she couldn’t get to his mouth, so she patted his pec and kissed his forearm.
“God, I can’t wait to get you alone somewhere. Can’t wait for my damn ankle to heal up.”
“Let’s get the meds, that’s a good first step.”
They ran into Ceci and Cedric both of whom were glowing. “We won, then?” Jack asked them with a wink.
“Game ending interception here, baby,” Ceci exulted, pounding on Cedric’s chest.
Cedric took the time to look at both of them closely. Rochelle was sure he could see the pain lines on Jack’s face, and she knew she looked rumpled.
“Y’all good, sis?” Cedric’s voice was loaded with meanings, and she didn’t even try to untangle them.
Yeah. They might not always have happy, but they would have good. Jack reached out through his crutch and slid his left hand over her hair and down her neck. He dropped the crutch to pull her against him and hel
d her close. She could feel the warmth where their bodies touched, the heat a promise for the future. Mourning, laughing, joy, love, the work: they would have it all, together.
She looked up into Jack’s eyes, compelled to smile by his ardent expression. “Yeah, we’re good.”
THE END
Thank you!
Thank you so much for reading!
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Also by Jane Lee Blair
“My Delight Is In Her” in Rogue Desire
Acknowledgments
Again, I’m so thankful to my co-anthologists for the chance to be a part of the resistance in this highly specific way.
Thank you to Emma Barry and Alicia Barnes for taking my story apart and putting it back together, and to Ros Clarke for encouragement that hit the spot. I take full responsibility for all the remaining issues.
Thank you Ainslie Paton for giving me much needed help with the blurb.
Thank you to my Blair sister-cousins for their support.
Thank you to my husband and kids. Thanks for being my peace as we struggle through life together.
About the Author
Jane Lee Blair has degrees in sociology and English, a pastor husband, four children, and a crumbly brick house in a Midwestern city. She loves reading, gardening, crocheting, and Twitter.
DEDICATION OF A LIFTIME
by Tamsen Parker
Copyright 2017
Rogue Affair Page 53
