CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I didn’t have much with which to buy Dee a present, but I wanted to give him something that mattered. Something of value. He’d earned it and more. I rode down to the shade barn, pulled what I wanted off the wall, wrapped it in a towel, zipped it into an old duffel, and rode the bike to town. I parked down the street from the grocery and sat wearing my helmet until he walked out the front door, untying his apron. He waved at me, pointed at the van, and mouthed the words, “Follow me.”

I should have been concerned about eating in a public place, but I found myself caring less and less about the restrictions placed upon my release. A good sign that I needed to take Wood’s advice, pack up, and find a home in another state—several states away. But, to be honest, that didn’t really appeal to me either.

Only one thing did.

Dee’s camp started in a week, which meant my commitment to him was winding down. A part of me wanted to stick around and see him play—a strong part—but my presence here was causing Audrey, and me, a lot of pain.

I had a week to go.

Dee drove to the courthouse and parked in one of those angled spaces alongside. I glanced at the people mingling around. You’ve got to be kidding me.

He exited the van, trotted back to me, and pointed to the opposite end of the block and Mama’s Po’ Boys. It was a sidewalk sandwich shop where folks in a hurry bought sandwiches and either ate standing up, on benches in the park, or walking back to work. The smell was intoxicating.

He said, “You like po’ boys?”

I handed him twenty dollars. “Absolutely.”

He pointed to a set of benches set off to one side of the courthouse, shadowed beneath the oaks. A good spot. “Meet you over there.”

I heeled down the kickstand and carried the duffel over to the bench. A few minutes later, Dee joined me. The sandwiches were fantastic. I ate mine in about five bites, as did he, so he ordered two more and we ate those as the mayonnaise dripped down our chins. We made a glorious mess.

He eyed my black-and-blue and swollen hand. “Want to talk about it?”

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

“I think it was you who told me that quarterbacks need to see what others miss. It’s what makes us good at our jobs.”

“That I did.” I glanced at it. “Just because they unlock the cell and open the gates doesn’t make you free.”

He nodded and didn’t ask any more questions. We sat in the quiet a few minutes. I asked him. “Birthday today, huh?”

He smiled. “Seventeen.”

I handed him the duffel. “I own very few things of value. I thought maybe you’d like to have that. It’s… special to me.”

“Can I open it?”

“Yep.”

He smiled. “You wrap this yourself?”

A chuckle.

He unzipped the bag, held the present, and unwrapped the towel. He looked at me in disbelief, in astonishment. “I can’t accept this.”

“You deserve it. And after the summer I’ve put you through, you’ve more than earned it. I want you to know that you’re that good. And I wouldn’t tell you that if you weren’t.”

He held the first of my two Heisman trophies in his hand. “But—”

“Dee, I want to tell you something.” A tractor trailer passed on the road next to us, and a couple eating ice cream walked by on the sidewalk. I looked away until they passed. “I want you to know that I didn’t expect this… you… this summer. It’s been… it’s been one of the greatest joys of my life. I mean that. Being with you has reminded me of the game I once loved and why I loved it. I want to thank you for that.” I paused. “Technically, I’m old enough to be your dad, but I feel more like an older brother or uncle or… anyway, what I’m saying is, I’m proud of you.”

“But?”

I didn’t like saying good-bye, and I could tell he didn’t like the thought of me saying it. “I’ll be leaving when you go to camp.”

He nodded and looked away. We sat beneath the slight rattle of the oak leaves. He broke the silence. “I was kind of hoping you might stay and watch my games. Help me—” A forced laugh. “Navigate my coach.”

“I’ll check on you.”

He didn’t respond. He zipped up the duffel. “Thank you for this. It means a lot.”

We stood, eye to eye. He was heavy. Only then did I realize I hadn’t given him much of a present. Certainly not the present he wanted. He asked, “Can you tell me why you’re leaving?”

“It’s complicated.”

He stood tall and straight. Eye to eye with me. Hurt and anger covered his face. He spoke through tight lips. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me this summer and never once uttered a complaint. So why don’t you try?”

“My being here is painful to Audrey. And to me.”

He lifted the duffel over his shoulder, took a step, then turned back. The first tear had already slid down his cheek. “You ever stop to think that maybe your leaving is painful to me?” He shook his head, set the duffel on the bench, and began walking to his van. Halfway there, he turned. “I been left all my life.”

I watched him climb into his van and then returned to my bike. But not before dumping the duffel in the nearest trash can.