Joie

 

“Hey, we’re going bowling. Wanna come?” Jemma breezed through the door of our apartment, dropping her backpack just inside and kicking off her shoes.

“Bowling?” Ugh. No. I just wanted to remain where I was, curled up on the couch with the new young adult paranormal romance I’d downloaded on my tablet.

“Come on, it will be fun. Malcolm’s coming.” Jemma wiggled her eyebrows.

“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.” Malcolm was nice, but I was still struggling with all my emotions about Cole. He never did respond to my text and I’d been too chicken to send another. It had been hard enough to send the first one after such a long time. I wasn’t going to bother him sending another when he obviously didn’t want to hear from me.

“Yeah, well, I think that ship would sail right back given an ounce of encouragement,” Jemma called from her bedroom.

“I’m good.” And I was. Mostly.

“Liar.” Jemma plopped down on the couch, a clean pair of socks in her hand.

“It’s true. I am perfectly happy to stay here and read.” And I was. Mostly. The other part of me, that part that wasn’t perfectly happy, wanted to jump a plane and go to South Bend.

“Still nothing?” Jemma knew about the text, knew about Cole now. I’d spilled my guts over a few pints of Ben and Jerry’s a couple of nights ago. I didn’t tell her all of it, not about my mom and dad, just about Cole.

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I just wish I knew how he was doing. Football has been his life. His dream for so long.” I let my words drift away. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It was easier to get lost in the make-believe lives of others.

Jemma slid her feet into her shoes and picked up her jacket from the back of the couch. “Well, I’m still worried about you. I know you don’t want to go bowling, but we need to plan something for this weekend. Dallas has to work on Saturday, let’s go get pedicures or something.”

With Jemma, a pedicure could solve anything that ailed you. “Yeah, that sounds amazing, actually.”

“Okay, it’s a girl date then. See you later. Don’t wait up,” she said with a wink over her shoulder as she breezed out the door.

Picking tablet up off my lap, I tried to get back into the story, but memories and worries about Cole kept slipping in, distracting me. Deciding to give up for a little while, I went to the kitchen to make some popcorn. For Jemma it was pedicures, for me- popcorn. I chose a microwave bag of kettle corn and waited for it to pop. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I opened the app to find more books to read. I really should be working on my own stories, but I hadn’t been motivated to write in a while.

Ding!  

It was a message.

From Cole.

A shot of adrenaline pulsed through my body and I started shaking. The message had displayed briefly at the top of the screen, just long enough to know it was from Cole, but then had gone away.

Taking a deep breath, I waited for my popcorn to finish. When the time between popping kernels slowed down, I opened the microwave and dumped the popcorn into a plastic bowl. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a cold Dr. Pepper, because what good was popcorn without it?

By the time I made it back to my seat in the living room, I was trembling so badly it was a wonder I didn’t dump the popcorn. I set the bowl and my drink on the coffee table before gingerly lowering myself onto the couch.

I just stared at the home screen on my phone. The little message icon had a red badge with a little number one in it. That’s it, one little message from Cole and I was reduced to a shaking, psycho mess. I set my phone on the table beside my snacks and let my head fall into my palms. I wanted this, didn’t I? Hadn’t I been waiting for days for something from Cole?

But I knew, I knew it was easier for me when he ignored me. Then I could pretend it was all over. That we would never be friends again and I could just get over this, this, whatever this was! I could believe Cole would never forgive me for the way I’d left him, for the ways I’d hurt him. And it was easier that way, right?

Glancing down at my phone, I had to blink away the tears that had collected in my eyes to even see the darn thing. I was scared. What did it say? What did it mean? Did Cole hate me? Had he forgiven me even though I’ve never said I was sorry, at least not until that text.

Reaching for my phone, I snatched it off the table and pushed the button to open the home screen once more. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I opened my messages and tapped on the message from Cole.

 

Hey.

 

And then I burst into tears.

 

Cole

 

I’d been staring at my phone screen for twenty minutes since I sent that text to Joie. One word. One tiny little word, but I knew she’d seen it. The read receipt said she’d opened it ten minutes ago. Why didn’t she respond? She reached out to me. Good hell. It was like middle school all over again. Weren’t we adults, for crying out loud? I refused to feel bad about not responding to her for so long. She deserved it. Hadn’t I done enough? Hadn’t I done enough to prove to her how I felt, how much I loved her?

Yes.

I had.

If it took twenty minutes or twenty years, no way would I reach out to her again. The ball was in her court.

Sighing, I tossed my phone down to the end of my bed. I needed to stop obsessing about this. But I couldn’t. Her stupid text message was all I could think about. Then tonight, I just couldn’t stop myself. It was like I was possessed. Like someone else was moving my fingers to type. To tap send.

Damn.

Closing my eyes, I started counting. Maybe I could fall asleep.

Ding!

Eyes popping open, I scrambled to sit up and retrieve my phone from the tangle of blankets at the bottom of my bed.

I stared at the screen.

 

Hey.

 

Really. That was all she had. Rolling my eyes, I was tempted to toss my phone at the wall again, but I’d just shelled out money for this new one, so I refrained. Barely.

Then, I heard another ding.

 

How are you feeling? Your shoulder I mean?

 

I admit, it did my heart good to know she was concerned about my shoulder. We didn’t have to have communicated in the last two years for her to know what losing football meant to me.

 

It’s getting better. It still sucks, but it’s healing.

Gosh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I really am. I know how much you love football.

Thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.

I know you will. Do you know what you’re going to do now?

Finish this semester first, then figure it out. Can’t really afford Notre Dame without the scholarship.

Man, that just really sucks. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I keep saying that! I mean it though.

I know you do.

I should let you go.

Can I text you again? Like later. Tomorrow? To see how you are or something?

Jo.

I’m sorry. I won’t bug you. I was just really worried about you. I couldn’t stop wondering how you were. Are.

Jo. Stop. You are not bugging me. You could never bug me. Well, maybe you could, but it would be hard.

You can text me anytime you want.

Ok. Well. Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.

Ok. Night.

Night.

 

For the first time in years, I fell asleep with a Joie induced smile on my face.

 

The next day, I had physical therapy in the morning. My arm was doing better. I could eat by myself now and drive my car. I wondered if the doctors were right about me never playing again, but I was slowly beginning to believe them. Even though I was regaining range of motion, I still had numbness and weird shooting nerve pain. I knew I would never throw the ball again, at least not with the speed or accuracy I used to. I was a hard pill to swallow, but I was trying.

The hardest thing to think about, apart from the whole Joie situation, was what to do next. I’d been doing general education classes for my first two years at Notre Dame and had finally declared myself a business major this fall. The classes were hard, but I was holding my own. The bad news was I hated them. In fact, I hated school. I only ever was motivated at school because of football and without that, I didn’t know what to do.

I heard a knock on my door followed by my mom’s head peeking in.

“Hey, there, kiddo.”

“What’s up? Come in.” I wondered what she wanted, it wasn’t often she knocked on my door and when she did she never hesitated. And she was hesitating.

Mom opened the door and came into my room, her eyes taking in every messy inch of it.

“I’ll work on cleaning up today,” I promised, feeling like I was fifteen instead of twenty.

Mom waved aside my reassurance. “It’s okay.” She paused and smiled. “I mean, it’s not okay, so please clean it up, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Curious, I sat up on the edge of my bed, surprised when mom sat down beside me instead of taking the desk chair.

“I found this the other day when I was cleaning out the media cabinet downstairs.” She held up a disk in a white sleeve.

“What is it?” I took it when she held it out for my inspection.

“Video of Joie’s play.”

I gasped, feeling like all the air was being sucked out of my lungs. Shaking my head, I tried to hand it back to her.

“No, I don’t want to watch that.” I’d rather knife myself. The knife would hurt less.

“Cole-” mom started.

“Yeah, thanks, but not happening,” I dropped the disc into her lap.

Sighing, mom put a hand on my shoulder. “Look, dad and I talked-” of course, they had, “he told me about your conversation the other day.”

Mom swallowed and blinked back tears that flooded her eyes. Her fingers played with the disc. “I’m sorry, Cole. Your dad and I both are that we didn’t know. I don’t know why you never told us, and it doesn’t matter now, but-” her voice cracked, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. “But your dad and I both agree that the happiest we’ve seen you in years was when you were doing the play, when Joie was here.”

“Mom-”

She put her hand up to stop me. “I know. I can’t tell you what to do. I wouldn’t even if you’d let me.”

I rolled my eyes at that one and earned myself a smack on my leg.

“I’m serious, Cole. You have to figure this one out for yourself. But I found this, and I felt like I should give it to you. So, here. Now, it’s up to you what you’re gonna do with it. There were two of these, so dad and I have our own. But this one is yours.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded.

“Okay, well, I better go finish dinner. Dad wanted lasagna and he won’t be happy unless I make my breadsticks to go with it.” Mom stood and started to leave the room but stopped and walked back to where I sat on the bed. “I love you, Cole,” she said and leaned over to kiss my forehead.

“Thanks, mom. I love you, too.”

After she left, I sat there for a long time staring at that dang white sleeve in my hand. Should I watch it? It might be fun to see it. I couldn’t remember if I’d watched it back then. Maybe it wasn’t even the last performance. The one where Joie played Elle instead of Trina. Geez, I thought, rubbing my hands over my scruffy face. I hadn’t thought about all that in a long time.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I removed the disc from the sleeve and popped it into the player on top of my tv. The disc began to play immediately. I didn’t even make it back to my bed, I just stopped in the middle of my room and sat on the carpet. I watched, mesmerized. It was good. The play was excellent. Joie had done such an excellent job. But that wasn’t what kept my attention. Not the acting. Not the lines. The sets. Not any of that. I couldn’t take my eyes off the chemistry between Joie and me. It was magical. Magnetic. We were both decent on stage with the rest of the cast, but together we were- amazing.

When it came to the final scene, I braced myself to watch the last kiss. That kiss has haunted me. That kiss and the hope I’d felt during and after it. The hope Joie squashed without a backward glance.

My heart began an irregular thrum. The closer the kiss got, the more my body reacted. My heart. My lungs. Even my skin began to tingle. Finally, Calvin took Elle in his arms, but it wasn’t Calvin and Elle, it was Cole and Joie. It was always Cole and Joie. Watching our kiss, emotions I didn’t want to deal with erupted inside me. Not gradually, but suddenly. And forcefully. The force so strong, I wondered if it would bury me.

The curtain closed on our kiss and I wanted to pretend that was the end, but it wasn’t. Behind those curtains the kiss had continued, until it didn’t. Joie left the after party early, claiming a headache, from what I heard from some of the other cast members. Eric gave her a ride home. I didn’t go into her room that night. Instead, I slept in my own bed for the first time in weeks. It was awful. I wanted to run down to the basement and beg her to love me. I wanted to beg her to not leave me, but I knew she was going to go. Nothing I said was going to change anything. And so, I distanced myself. I built a wall around my heart and when she drove away with her new car and new license, I cemented the last brick in place, closing that place where Joie resided in me away.

And it’s been like that for the last two years. Until that text. And now I didn’t know what to do.

Turning off the tv, I went to put the DVD back in the sleeve. But when I slid the disc in, it caught on something. Curious, I opened the paper sleeve to see if there was something else in there.

Inside the DVD sleeve was a card.

 

Cameron Donovan

University of Southern California

Performing Arts

 

That’s right. I remembered. The guy from USC who’d come to see Joie had pulled me aside after the play the first night. Apparently, he’d been impressed by my performance. I was surprised by the praise, especially from him, but I was shocked when he offered me an interview and an open invitation to look him up if I ever decided to give up football.

At the time, I’d blown him off with a thank you and an I love football. But he’d insisted on giving me his card and made me promise to think about his offer. Of course, I hadn’t. I hadn’t needed to.

Until now.