The Keeping Score Box Set

by Tawdra Kandle

  Leo came closer to me, still standing at my back. “No. I mean, I don’t know . . .” He sighed, and I felt his breath stirring the hair on my neck. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? Figure it out then? I’m fried, and I’m mad and I’m just done tonight. I want to go to bed.”

  “Sure.” I swallowed. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

  Upstairs, we undressed in silence. I went into the bathroom to wash my face, and when I came out to climb into bed, Leo took my place. I slid beneath the sheets and lay on my side, my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of him brushing his teeth. I’d gotten used to it over these weeks, the subtle nuances of living with someone. We’d slept together for over a year now, and we’d spent a few days at a time with each other, but there was something different about actually living under the same roof. I knew his rhythms, his bedtime habits and then how he woke up in the mornings. They had become familiar to me, and I loved that.

  After a few minutes, Leo came back into the bedroom. He switched off the overhead light and felt his way through the dark to the bed. I felt the sheets shift as he got under them, adjusted his pillow and sighed into the darkness. I didn’t know I was going to say anything until my voice pierced the quiet.

  “The first time we slept together . . . really slept together, in the same bed, not just for sex . . . it wasn’t at the hotel, because we didn’t sleep much that night. But when I stayed over at your house the first time, when your parents were away, I was terrified. I was scared I was going to talk in my sleep, or drool, or snore—something embarrassing. I was so nervous, I thought I’d never actually nod off, but I did. And when I woke up, you had your arms around me, and I realized I’d never slept so soundly in my life.”

  I drew in a ragged breath, and to my shock, sobs wracked my body. Tears I hadn’t known were imminent slid down my cheeks and soaked the pillow. All the tension from this summer, this uncomfortable distance between Leo and me and every bit of uncertainty poured out. As always happened now, whenever something set me off, grief over missing my dad struck, too, making everything somehow worse.

  Next to me, Leo made a noise deep in his throat and gathered me close, pulling my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck.

  “It’s okay, Mia.” He murmured soft words into my ear. “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  But we both knew he was making promises neither of us could trust.

  The next morning, I woke up with gritty, swollen eyes, a pounding head and a sense of doom I couldn’t shake.

  Leo was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his clean T-shirt in his hands. He stared down at it, turning the gray cotton over in his hands.

  I pushed my back against the pillow, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. “What time is it?”

  “Just after seven.” He stretched the shirt wide, the way he always did right before he pulled it over his head. I watched the interplay of muscles on his back, tempted to trace the ridges and ropes.

  “Leo.” I took a deep breath. “I think . . . I think we need to take a break. I’m going to head back up to New Jersey. I should spend some time with my mom anyway, before classes start again.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Leo turned around, his eyebrows drawn together. “Quinn, what are you saying?”

  “Everything is so screwed up.” I flexed my feet, intent on the movement of the sheet over them. “What they want from you at the school, and what you’re being pushed to do . . . me being here complicates all that. I don’t want to make all of it harder on you. So I’ll just go home, and then, we can see.”

  “We can see? We can see what, exactly?” He sounded angry, but I heard the fear and pain underneath.

  “Leo, it’s all timing. Right now, the team and the school are asking so much of you. What you said last night is true. You need this education, and that comes with a price tag. If you have to play by their rules, then that’s what you’re going to do. And if they don’t want you to have a girlfriend, we already know what’s going to end up happening.”

  “They didn’t say I couldn’t have a girlfriend. They just said the magazine doesn’t want to play up that angle.”

  I shook my head. “You’re quibbling, Leo. They want to do a story on Leo Taylor, the hot and sexy single football player, the one all the girls want to dream could be theirs. I don’t fit into that scenario. And the last thing I want to do is skulk around, hiding our relationship. You know me, Leo. I couldn’t live that way.”

  “You’re making this more than it is, Quinn. It’s one story. They’ll come over here one day, or maybe they won’t even come over. Maybe I’ll meet them at the college, and then it’s done. We’ve got three more weeks together before I have to move back on campus when practices begin, and once that happens, you’ll be at Birch. We’re separated most of the time anyway. And then how hard is it to just lay low for another two years, until I can graduate? After that, we make our own rules, babe. We write our own ticket.”

  “You’re fooling yourself if you think that’s true. There’s always going to be someone telling you what they want you to be. You don’t think whatever team you sign with will have a take on this?”

  “It won’t matter then.” He was stubborn. I could see it in the set of his mouth. But I knew that deep down, he already realized that I was right. He was fighting both me and himself, trying to make something true into a lie.

  “Leo, I can’t take this anymore. I just can’t. I love you. I know you love me. That’s not even in question. But what people have said about me, what they’re still saying about me—it’s horrible. After this article comes out, it’s only going to get worse. I can’t deal with it.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t control that. People are fucking idiots, Quinn. They’re going to say whatever they want. So just don’t look at the social media shit. Ignore it, and they’ll stop paying attention after a while.”

  “Maybe, or maybe not.” I reached for his hands and clutched them in my own. They were icy cold. “I’m not suggesting that we . . . that things go back to what they were before. I can’t lose you as my friend. Not again. Let’s just look at this as a little breathing room, okay? If things cool down, like you think they will, maybe . . . we can try again. But right now, I want to go home. I want to be with my mom. I need some space to think it all over.”

  “Quinn, I don’t want anybody else. You know that. It’s you, Quinn. It’s always been you, and it’s always going to be you, forever. Don’t destroy us over this.”

  “Just a break.” I repeated the words. “Just a break.”

  Leo pulled me against him, and once again, his face was burrowed in my hair. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “If it wasn’t now, it would be in a few weeks. We’re just moving things up a little.” I stroked his back. “Tell me you understand, Leo. Tell me you’re okay with this.”

  He lifted tormented eyes to mine. “I’m never going to be okay with you leaving me or with us being apart, in any way.” He drew in a deep breath. “But . . . yeah, I understand. You’ve been stuck in the house, afraid to go out, and I know all of this puts you in a terrible position, too.”

  A small trickle of relief mingled with a stream of regret. “It does. I don’t want to mess up anything for you. I never want to stand in the way of your dreams or your future.”

  “Mia Quinn.” He held my face between his two hands. “You are my dream and my future. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I’m one of them. The thought drifted unbidden and unwelcome into my mind, but I didn’t say it aloud. Leo would only deny it, and that was not an argument I cared to have today.

  “Tell me this is temporary.” He leaned back, searching my face. “Just until you feel a little steadier and the fucking media stuff goes away. Right?”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, out of fear I might say what
he wasn’t ready to accept.

  But I knew the truth.

  Football Sunday

  If you haven’t heard the name Leo Taylor, you must have been living under a rock. The rising junior at Carolina University has, in the last year, become the most watched and the most popular college football player in the nation.

  Taylor’s story is that of a typical American boy. The youngest of three boys, his parents are middle-class residents of a small town in Southern New Jersey. Their two oldest boys, Simon and Daniel, played basketball, but the baby of the family, Leo, found his real love in the game of football.

  Taylor led his Eatonboro High team to the state championship two years in a row. His high school coaches call him a born leader, someone who inspired the other players to give their best every game. His best friend Matt Lampert was the team’s quarterback, and they were both recruited by Carolina.

  But there the similarities end. While Taylor’s gone from victory to victory in his college career, Lampert’s languished on the sideline. With Carolina QB Thomas Wilkens playing at the top of his game, sources say Lampert has refused to consider a different position, and his extracurricular activities have made the coaching staff reluctant to deal with him.

  Back in high school, Leo Taylor was dubbed the Lion, for both his name and for his habit of roaring after a TD catch. Recently, that name has followed him to Carolina, where a growing group of fans has dubbed itself the Lionesses. The Lionesses attend every game, and their presence on social media has become massive. Each week, the group holds a contest to see who can capture a new picture of Taylor.

  Teammates say Taylor doesn’t enjoy his new fame, but between his face and body that drives women wild and his continued prowess on the field, it doesn’t seem that this Lion will be extinct any time soon.

  And ladies . . . sources tell us Leo Taylor is single. Roar, indeed.

  Junior Year

  Fall

  One thing most kids who are sick a lot have in common is that we don’t take for granted long stretches of health. For the first seventeen years of my life, a regular hospital stint was part of life, just as much as my birthday was—only less predictable about when it would fall. I’d gone almost four remarkable years without a serious illness, from the autumn of my junior year in high school to late summer before my junior year in college, but I never got used to it. Every time I had a tickle in my throat or an odd pain in my legs, I waited for the inevitable.

  When it finally came, the timing wasn’t as bad as it could have been. In early August before our third year of college began, I woke up at home and realized I was running a fever. Before the end of the day, I was in the hospital, and by the next day, I was in the ICU.

  Quinn had come home early from her summer with Leo. She’d told me a little about what everything had been like down there, and how it had happened that she and Leo were, as she termed it, taking a break. I’d waited for her to shut down again, as she had that first time, back in high school, but she hadn’t.

  “It was my decision, Nate,” she assured me. “It was something I had to do. Not forever, but for now. And I’m really okay.”

  So she was home when I got sick, and as always, she came to sit next to me at the hospital, holding my hand and doing everything she could to keep me going, whether it was with cajoling, threats or teasing. She made me laugh, and she kept my mother company during the long hours of waiting.

  I was just beginning to feel more human on my first day out of intensive care. My nurse had promised to help me take a shower, and we were joking about making that happen when Dr. Randall, my long-time coordinating physician, strolled into my room.

  “I figured I’d be seeing you sooner or later.” I nodded to him. “This has got to be some kind of record for me, right? Almost four years without a hospital stay. If anyone’s counting.”

  “We are, and it is.” Dr. Randall sat down on the edge of my bed. “The fact that you’ve been so well overall and off antibiotics for so long is probably one of the reasons you responded so quickly to treatment this time.”

  I grinned. “So we’ll aim for a longer break next time, huh? This was almost four years. I think I could make six my goal.”

  I expected Dr. Randall to laugh and agree, but instead he frowned. “I wish I could encourage you to commit to that goal, Nate, but you know our deal.”

  “Yeah.” Years before, when I was younger, I’d promised that I’d always be completely honest with the good doctor about my symptoms and feelings. In return, he’d promised full disclosure when it came to the progression of my disease and my overall prognosis. “So . . . the news isn’t good?”

  He pursed his lips. “It’s not bad, but some of your test results have been more consistent with an indication of disease progression than with stability.”

  “Which means in English . . . it looks like it’s beginning to gain on me.”

  “It looks like we need to keep our eyes on things.” Dr. Randall corrected me gently. “I’m not telling you to write your will, Nate. I’m just saying we need to test more frequently, and you’re going to have to watch your activity and your diet, as well as your exposure to illness. You might have to slow down a little. Got it?”

  “Yeah. I understand.”

  “Good.” He tapped the side my bed. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I returned to school with renewed purpose that year. Tuck and I moved into an apartment on the first floor of the Birch upperclassman apartment building, both of us happy to be out of the same room we’d shared for the first two years of college. None of our parents were particularly thrilled that we’d be more on our own, but Tuck and I had pushed the issue until they all agreed.

  My favorite part of living in the apartments was being so close to Quinn. She shared a three-bedroom unit with Gia and Zelda on the third floor, a mere elevator-ride away. As a result, we all spent more time together that year, either in the girls’ room or in ours.

  We were all hanging out on the third floor one Saturday in October, watching the Carolina game on the TV in the girls’ living room. Quinn leaned forward, her eyes trained on the screen. The volume was cranked up so we could hear every word the announcer said.

  “Taylor’s having quite the year, isn’t he?” One of the men in a loud checked sports coat intoned those words over the sounds of the crowd.

  “It’s an interesting story. Coach Demby brought in these two players from the same school in South Jersey, and the differences in them are fascinating. Taylor’s been starting for about a year now, and he’s kind of become the most eligible bachelor in college football today, thanks to some well-placed media coverage.” There was a dry note in the other commentator’s voice. Apparently not everyone appreciated the articles about Leo that had been popping up everywhere.

  “Unfortunately, it hasn’t been such an easy road for his buddy, Matt Lampert. Lampert came into this team as a quarterback, when Carolina already had a young QB. He’s come in late in a few games, but he hasn’t started yet. It’s an awkward situation, because Wilkinson is healthy and on fire, while this other talented young man sits around twiddling his thumbs.”

  “True. And he’s not just twiddling his thumbs, either, or at least that’s what we hear. Lampert’s got quite the reputation for his partying, and he’s been getting into some trouble off the field. Shame when you see these talented young players squander their abilities in destructive behavior. But it seems to be happening more and more often these days.”

  “Oh, for the love of God. Would he just shut up?” Gia threw a pillow at the television. “You know, if they’d just leave Matt alone, maybe he’d have a chance to turn things around. What do they expect from him? He doesn’t feel like he’s part of the team. He feels like he’s an also-ran, while Leo can’t do anything wrong. He’s the golden boy.”

  Quinn sighed. “It’s not Leo’s fault, Gia. He didn’t ask for the attention. It’s just how everything shook out with the positions they play.” She twisted a strand of her ha
ir around her finger. “Matt knew when he decided to go to Carolina that Wilkens was going to be there as quarterback for the next three years. He was banking on an injury or Wilkens going into the NFL early, and now that neither is happening, he’s sulking like a little kid.”

  Gia stood up. “Quinn, I don’t get why you’re defending Leo. He left you behind fast enough when the college told him he needed to be a swinging single.”

  “That’s not how it was.” Quinn’s cheeks flushed. “I’m the one who told Leo we needed to take a break. I’m the one who couldn’t deal with all the press. It’s not his fault.”

  “Still. Homecoming’s next week. Did Leo ask you to come down? You went last year and freshman year.”

  “No.” Her reply was short and clipped. “He didn’t, and even if he did, I wouldn’t be going. You don’t think the media would be all over that?” She took a deep breath and slumped back on the couch. “Besides. We’re not together like that anymore. We’re just friends. For now. Again. Still. Whatever.”

  “Uh huh.” Zelda spoke up from the corner where she’d been reading. “That must be why you’ve been dating so much, Quinn. You know, out every night, partying, sleeping with every guy you meet . . . all of that is because you and Leo aren’t together anymore. Just friends.”

  “She doesn’t date or party.” I couldn’t be quiet any longer. “And she sure as hell isn’t sleeping around.”

  “Like me, you mean, Nate?” Zelda tossed her book onto the coffee table. “Don’t worry, hon. I was just teasing Quinn. We all know she’s not a super slut like I am.”

  “Chill, Zelda. Nate didn’t mean anything. And Nate, Zelda was just being sarcastic. Christ, what’s wrong with everyone today?” Tuck scowled at all of us. “I’m the surly one, remember? I’m the only guy entitled to be pissy and moody here, watching a football game. From my fucking wheelchair. Taylor’s a gifted player, sure, but he doesn’t have the moves I did. And Matt Lampert’s wasting the chance I’d kill to have. So if I’m not sitting here moaning and bitching, the rest of you sure as hell shouldn’t be. Got it?”