#scenebreak
Believe it or not, I was disappointed when Corey didn’t wake me up the next morning. I mean, I never thought he had anything to do with the attack, but I’d assumed he’d show up in the morning crying or something, asking forgiveness. I hadn’t run the credit card, but I also hadn’t cancelled his lesson with Dad. When he didn’t show, either he supported his buddies or he was embarrassed. He didn’t answer his cell. Direct to voicemail.
There was a knock on my open door, and I looked over quickly, thinking maybe it was him. Oops. Shouldn’t have moved so fast. Stars are pretty. Dad leaned there in shorts and a t-shirt, drenched in sweat.
“Watcha been doing?” I asked.
He wandered in and plunked down next to my bed in the comfy chair that normally lived in the corner. “Hitting the bag.”
“Leave any for me?” Just call me Mr. Cool. Inside, I did fist pumps.
He’d kept vigil, waking me every couple of hours, and every time I woke up on my own trying to roll over, which hurt like hell, he was always there sitting beside me.
At one point a TV had magically appeared while I was unconscious, and we watched Glee. Dad took great delight in teasing that we were a role-reversed version of Kurt and his dad. I reminded him of those Mardi Gras photos from his college days and he quickly dropped the jokes.
Ha. Ouch.
I liked having my dad back. Don’t get me wrong, he still had a long way to go, but therapy and time would do wonders. Having a second date scheduled with Mike helped. Nurse-maiding me seemed to help. Whatever it took.
Speaking of magical appearances, Tango materialized in the doorway as if afraid that stepping into the room would somehow hurt me. “The front door was wide open.”
Dad jumped to his feet. “My pot roast!” Ever the bullshit artist. He slipped past Tango and gave her a gentle shove in my direction. “You two can watch a movie or something,” he declared. “But the bedroom door stays open.”
“Dad!”
He winked at me from the doorway. “I don’t want you overexerting yourself and popping your stitches, son.”
A pillow nailed him before he could escape.
I patted the bed beside me. “We have the old man’s permission.” Christ, it even hurt to waggle my eyebrows.
She slid onto the bed, but remained hesitant. I knew how shitty I looked. Well, I knew how shitty I felt, too, but I didn’t want her treating me like a fragile porcelain doll, so I drew her in. At first, her whole body stiffened, obviously afraid that anything we did was going to hurt me. Frankly, it would, but it would’ve hurt worse if we didn’t.
She relaxed in my arms and lay back so I could rise up on one elbow and kiss her from above. Ow. No wincing. I couldn’t let her see that every move was painful. She was warm and soft and no matter how much it hurt, holding her made me feel a thousand times better, so the pain was utterly worth it. Maybe you have to be guy to understand that.
“I don’t hear a movie!” Dad yelled from downstairs.
Tango and I fell apart, laughing. He was yanking my chain, but Tango didn’t know that. So we streamed the original Footloose. Huh. Despite the godawful hair and clothes and the mediocre dancing, I liked it better.
“Oh, my God,” Tango laughed. “That is so you and Corey!”
Okay. . . I couldn’t just lay there and watch a dance movie. Before it ended I felt twitchy and stir crazy. My feet followed the moves on the screen. My arms mirrored them in miniature.
Finally, Tango bounced out of the bed and turned off the TV. “Okay, Mr. ADHD, let’s go down to the garage and work out some of those kinks.”
A dozen jokes made themselves available, but I let them go. See how gallant I could be?
We spent an hour stretching and going through warm-ups, and I really did feel better as we continued. The garage made me think of Corey though. I knew. . . just knew he wasn’t picking up his cell because he assumed we all hated him, that we blamed him for the beating. Add that to what happened with Monika and the poor guy had a heaping helping of guilt for stuff that wasn’t his fault.
Tango lifted my foot for me and I had to stop her when it was straight out. Crap. Normally, I could get it past my head.
“I still don’t really understand why you’re so loyal to Corey,” she said. Before I could respond, she lifted the foot a little higher to shut me up. “Okay, maybe none of this was his fault, exactly. . . but you don’t know he didn’t teach those assholes how to put a smack down. He’s the captain.”
I gestured for her to lower the foot an inch. “That’s just it. I don’t know.” I adjusted and relaxed my leg, then motioned her to lift the leg higher again. “I know he’s not bright. He knows he’s not bright. But he’s a good guy. I mean, when you’re dating someone, you only get to have that one person.” I held up a hand. “That’s the way I roll, anyway.”
“You don’t multitask well.”
I grinned. “But I can have as many friends as I want.” I motioned for her to lower that leg and lift the other. My left didn’t want to go as high as the right. “I just think he really needs a friend right now.”
“Total bromance, Foxtrot.”
“Whatever.”
“How are you going to get out to his place, anyway?” So she was not about to volunteer. “You can’t drive.”
“Dad told me he’d take me.” I leaned into the leg to stretch it a bit more. “He wants to be there just in case, anyway.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is he worried Corey may have been involved?”
“No, he’s just concerned his parents might be a problem.” I pulled my leg down. “Folks around here like their football almost as much as they like their guns, and those guys cost the entire city its homecoming victory.”
“I’m not even sure there’s going to be a homecoming game at this point.” She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets. “I really hope folks figure out who to blame for that.”
“Me, too.”
She motioned for me to kneel down with my hands behind my head so she could stretch my shoulders. “Corey’s mom hosts an annual javelina shoot every year, by the way.”
“Oh?”
“And she coaches at the local NRA.” She pulled on my elbows from behind and pushed forward on my back with her chest, which felt nice.
When I faced her again, she was obviously waiting for more of a response.
“I have no idea what most of those words meant,” I admitted, “but I assume the upshot is that Corey’s mom is a badass with a gun and I should be scared.”
Tango grinned and gave me her “bless his heart” face. “How am I supposed to tease you,” she asked as she inched her lips closer, “when you’re a poor, ignorant, city boy?”
Fortunately, the music was on already, so Dad couldn’t comment on the ensuing silence.
She smelled like cinnamon and her skin felt like silk. She tasted like mint. After a few minutes, I didn’t even feel the pain.