October 31, last year

 

Once I was given the okay to drive, I had my car delivered from L.A.  I didn’t want to have it here tempting me when I couldn’t drive it.  My car was friggin bad ass.  Lotus Elise S, chrome orange, forged black 14 spoke wheels, black leather interior, six speed manual transmission.  It was flashy.  It was new.  And it was mine.  Driving it made me feel like Batman, all except for the color, a decision which was influenced by the underwear model.  I could have bought something more powerful and more expensive, but the Lotus called to me.  Not too many people owned them, and I liked that it was unique.  The dealer in L.A. talked me into ordering the car to my specs, and it wasn’t delivered until I was in season.  Therefore, I really hadn’t driven it much. 

Owning a flashy sports car in L.A. wasn’t abnormal, but owning a car like this in Houston really turned heads.  I couldn’t go too many places without it getting a lot of attention.  Due to my modest upbringing by a mother and father who preached practicality, I invested wisely and, until I bought this car, never spent my money irresponsibly or waved it in anyone’s face.  However, I had a hard time not feeling a little like a spoiled douche when riding around Houston in my car, but it didn’t make me love the car any less. 

Because the car got noticed, people paid attention to the driver.  Sometimes people would recognize me.  I loved attention from fans, especially the young ones, and I never denied any autograph or photo request.  I didn’t get mobbed or anything like that, especially since I didn’t play here.  I just got spotted and approached by the occasional fan.  And that I found totally cool.

I was making progress in physical therapy, although it was going slower than I wanted.  I could almost straighten out my leg, and the bend was significantly more than two weeks ago.  However, there was still a lot of work to do before I was ready to be released. 

I was usually the first person on the schedule each morning at the clinic.  Etta was stepping me through the process just like she said she would.  She worked alongside me, doing everything she asked me to do. We were never alone, though.  In addition to Etta, the clinic had eight therapists, all with at least masters degrees, who worked every morning.  Monday and Wednesday afternoons, two therapists would attend classes or work on their doctorate.  The same happened with two different therapists on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, the same days Etta taught her classes.  She was very supportive to students who were dedicated to furthering their education.  Plus, her research was done on site at the clinic. 

On Monday, Etta stepped out to take a phone call, so Andre stepped in to supervise my movements.  He told me that I was the only person Etta was currently treating.  He said she usually only acted as a supervisor when she was in the clinic, and that she didn’t usually get territorial over clients, famous or not.  He wondered out loud what made me so special. 

“We’re old friends,” I explained.  “We were pretty close in college.”

“Really?  You don’t seem that close,” Andre confided before Etta returned.

He was right.  And it bothered me.  Everything was too professional between Etta and me.  It wasn’t as if we were cold to each other, but we weren’t exactly warm either.  It was comfortable, like the comfort you get from seeing someone almost every day, but certainly not used-to-be-best-friends comfortable.  I wanted some of our friendship back.

So today I would take a step in that direction.

“What time does your class start?”  I asked casually while she placed the ice packs around my knee.

“One.”  These one word answers from her lately were becoming very annoying.

I looked at the clock.  Three hours was plenty of time for what I planned.  I waited a few more minutes before continuing.  I wanted it to seem like a spontaneous request.

“Come to lunch with me today.”  She shot me a look that was both surprised and perplexed.  Then she looked perturbed.  It kinda hurt.  “I simply want to thank you for all you are doing for me.”  She started to walk away, but I put my hand on her arm to stop her.  “Look, we were best friends…”

“We were,” she said quietly in affirmation.

I removed my hand from her arm.  “I’m sorry, Eddie.  I just thought since we were spending so much time together, and since you were taking such good care of me that I could show you my appreciation by offering you a meal.” I smiled.  “Also, it’s customary in our society for old friends to be able to share a meal together.  I don’t understand why that idea is so repulsive to you.”

“I’m not repulsed.”  She smiled tightly before walking over to the desk to sit down.  “I just can’t, Nate.”  Nate.  Again with the Nate.

When we were alone in the clinic on that Friday, it felt like we could get back some of the relationship we had.  Now, she treated me like we were virtual strangers.  I was just another client to her.  Okay.  That stung. 

After a few minutes, she finished her notes for today and walked back over to me.  While removing the ice packs from my leg, she slipped a small piece of paper in my hand.  After she taped me up, she said a little louder than necessary, “Same time tomorrow, Nate.”

I was confused, but I tried to hide it.  “Alright, cool.”  I grabbed my water bottle and my jacket.  “Happy Halloween, everyone.” 

A chorus of “Happy Halloween” followed from her staff.

When I sat in my car, I unfolded the piece of paper.  On it she had written:  Buzzy’s, 11:00.  Order me my usual.  It’s moved.

The new address was written at the bottom.  I smiled.  We frequented Buzzy’s Pizza in college, and it had been a long time since I had it.  I looked at the new address which was not far away.  The location in the Village was small, so it was about time they got a bigger place.

I had some time to waste, so I drove around the campus and the Village, seeing what had changed and what was the same.  Our old apartment complex looked the same, but there were so many changes to the rest of our old stomping grounds.  I stopped for gas, which earned me and my car a few inquisitive looks, before I drove to Buzzy’s.

I got there a little early, glad I beat the lunch rush.  I ordered and grabbed a table in the back corner.  When Etta arrived, she scanned the room.  I waved, and she walked to the table smiling since our food was already there.

“I like the secret rendezvous,” I teased.  “Makes me feel like a spy.”

“Oh, please,” she grumbled.  She grabbed the tea I ordered for her and drank half of it down.  “Thank goodness it’s already here.  I’m starving.”  She took a bite and swallowed.  “Hey, I’m sorry for earlier, Nathaniel.”  Yes, she said Nathaniel.  “I have to be professional to set a good example for my employees.  I preach to them to not get personally involved with patients, to be cordial without crossing the line, so it would look really bad for me not to lead by example.  It’s why I haven’t been too friendly at the clinic.  I thought you got that since it seemed you were following my lead.” 

“I got that.”  I totally didn’t get that.  “But they know we were friends before.  So I didn’t think anything of asking you to lunch.”  I took a drink.  “I’m sorry if it put you in a bad position.”

“It’s okay, and you’re probably right,” she assured.  Then her face turned angry.  “It’s just that Andre.  Damn.  He’s worse than a woman.  Trying to get me to divulge details of our past.  I know when I’m not there, they must sit around and gossip like little old ladies.  I’m very guarded about my personal life.  They don’t know much about me, and I prefer it to stay that way.”  She pointed her finger at me.  “Don’t you dare give him any details.  I have to maintain my cred with those kids, you hear me?  And no more calling me Eddie in front of them.”

“Kids?  They aren’t much younger than you.  When did you become such a hard ass?”

“It’s hard to maintain a reputable place if there’s a bunch of unprofessional shit going on.  I’ve worked hard to create a cutting-edge PT clinic.”  She took a bite.  “People are coming to me from all over the world,” she said with her mouth full.  “I have to run the shop like the leading facility it is.”

I smiled.  “As long as they don’t see you eat, you should do fine.”

She shot me a look over her spinach calzone.  “Smart ass.” 

A young kid, probably about eight or nine, had approached our table stared at me with wide eyes.  What looked to be a fresh cast was on his forearm, which explained why he was out of school today.  He wore my jersey, something that always thrilled me when I saw it.  It thrilled me more this time since I didn’t play in Houston.  “Excuse me, are you Nate Slaughter?”

“Yes, I am.”  I held out my hand and he shook it. 

“I was gonna ask if you would be the first to sign my cast.”

“Awesome.  I’d be honored.  What’s your name?”

“Jonathan.”

I signed his cast.  “We have something in common, Jonathan.  I just got out of a cast from breaking my leg.  How’d you break your arm?”

“Playing football.  But I like baseball better.”

“Yeah?  What’s your position?”

He looked down.  “Left field, but I really wanna play third base.” 

“Not catcher, huh?”

“No,” he shook his head.  “Catcher’s job is too hard.  Plus, my dad says catchers have short careers because it’s hell on the knees.”  Etta burst out laughing.  Gotta love kids’ honesty. 

I talked to the kid for about five more minutes talking about teams and players and about doing what the doctor told him to get his arm to heal faster. 

His mom came over to get him.  She took our picture, shook my hand and thanked me for spending time talking with her son. 

“No problem.  Hey Jonathan,” I called after him.  “It was awesome to meet you.  Remember, when you find what you love, work hard and don’t ever give up on it.” 

“Okay, Nate.  Thanks for signing my cast.”

When we were alone again, I looked over at Etta, who was sporting a goofy grin. 

“What?” I asked.

“That was impressive.  You were great with him.”  She took a drink, but didn’t take her eyes off me.  “He probably won’t ever forget that moment.”

“I love my fans, Eddie.”

“Well, I’m definitely one now.”  She chewed her last bite and swallowed.  “Miles is probably your biggest fan.  He really wants to see you again.  He really doesn’t remember much from being with you when he was little.”

“Wow.  Cool.  How old is he now?”

“Just turned thirteen.  He’s discovered girls.”  She checked her phone for the time.  “He’s a little heartbreaker, just like you.  It just adds to the list of things Mom has to worry about with him.”  

“I don’t remember breaking any hearts, especially at thirteen.”  Her face fell and she dropped her eyes.  What was that about?  Instead of asking, I changed the subject.  “I really missed this place.  I’m glad you suggested it.  But next time, can we get Mexican Food?  It really sucks in Cali.”

She smiled but said nothing.  Questions.  Questions are good. 

“How’s Beth?” I asked, hoping the topic of Beth would not earn me another death stare like the mention of Emily did.

“She and Chris are on kid number two.  She’s a stay at home mom.  I can’t imagine doing that.  I mean, I respect her decision to stay home, but if I were her parents, I’d be pissed.  All that money they spent on a degree from Rice, and she stays at home.”

“I knew she and Chris planned to have a lot of kids.”  I threw my napkin on the table.  “It’s weird thinking about them as parents.  He was always crazy about her.”

She studied my face for a second, contemplating her words.  “You really didn’t stay in touch with anyone, did you?”

I felt my face flame.  “I tried at first.”  I didn’t want to hear about her, but I couldn’t say that.  “I was very focused on my career.”

“Yeah,” she cocked her head to the side and looked me in the eye.  “I understand that.” 

“But it’s not like my number changed.”  I downed the rest of my water.  “No one tried too hard to call me either.”

“You and Chris were close though.”

“Yeah, he asked me to stand up for him at his wedding, but it was All-Star weekend.  Chris insisted I not turn it down.  After that, we just...”  I trailed off.  She sighed, but I didn’t want to ask what was wrong.  She studied me for a minute.  I could tell she was trying really hard not to say something, but instead, she shook her head. 

“I have to get going.  Thanks for lunch.”  We both stood up and walked out the door.

“So this is your car,” she said, running her fingers along the hood.  “It’s pretty badass.”

I grinned.  “If you’re really nice to me, I might let you drive it.”  I opened my arms.  She studied my stance warily.  She stepped forward tentatively, wrapped her arms around my waist and settled against my chest. 

Ah, there it was again.  Warmth.  Dreamsicles.  Perfection.

I felt like I was home.

Finally.