The Goal
Page 50
I tense up, because I know things are about to get even more heartbreaking.
Joanna’s a beautiful woman, with a chin-length dark bob and blue eyes like Beau’s. Those eyes are so lifeless right now. Her face is haunted. So are the faces of her parents.
In her simple black dress, she sinks onto the bench of a black grand piano on the other side of the stage. I was wondering about the piano, and now I have my answer. Joanna Maxwell was a music major when she went to Briar, landing a job on Broadway right after graduation. Hannah says she’s an incredible singer.
I wince as microphone feedback screeches through the stadium.
“Sorry,” Joanna murmurs, then adjusts the mic and leans closer. “I don’t think many of you know this, but my brother was actually a pretty good singer. He wouldn’t dare to sing in public, though. He had his bad boy reputation to maintain, after all.”
Laughter ripples through the bleachers. It’s eerie combined with the wave of grief hanging over us.
“Anyway, Beau was a big music buff. When we were little, we would sneak into our dad’s den and mess around with his record player.” She sheepishly glances at her father. “Sorry you’re just finding that out now, Daddy. But I swear we didn’t break into the liquor cabinet.” She pauses. “At least not until we were older.”
Mr. Maxwell shakes his head ruefully. Another wave of laughter washes through the stands.
“We loved listening to the Beatles.” She adjusts the mic again and poises her fingers over the ivory keys. “This was Beau’s favorite song, so—” Her voice cracks. “—I thought I would sing it for him today.”
My heart aches as the first strains of “Let It Be” fill the stadium. Sabrina clutches my hand tighter. Her fingers are like ice. I squeeze them, hoping to warm her up, but I know mine are equally cold.
By the time Joanna finishes singing, there isn’t a dry eye in the bleachers. I’m rapidly blinking back tears, but eventually I give up and let them stream down my cheeks without wiping them away.
Afterward, Joanna gracefully rises from the piano bench and rejoins her parents. Then come the speeches, and the tears only fall harder. Coach Deluca gets behind the podium and talks about what a talented player Beau was, his dedication, his strength of character. A few of his teammates speak, making us laugh again with stories about Beau’s shenanigans in the locker room. Beau’s mom thanks everybody for coming, for supporting her son, for loving him.
I feel ravaged when the memorial finally reaches its conclusion.
Sorrow thickens the air as people shuffle out of their seats and make their way down the aisles. Sabrina releases my hand and walks ahead of me. Hope and Carin sandwich her between them like two mother hens, each one wrapping an arm around her shoulders as the trio descends the steps.
On the landing, I come up behind her and lean in to murmur in her ear. “Want me to come to Boston tonight?”
She gives a slight shake of her head, and disappointment and frustration flood my stomach. She must see it in my eyes, because she bites her lip and whispers, “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper back.
With my heart in my throat, I watch her walk away.
“What was that about?” Garrett appears beside me, focusing on Sabrina’s retreating back.
“Just offering my condolences,” I lie. “That’s Sabrina James—she used to date Beau.”
“Oh.” He frowns. “Dean’s Sabrina?”
My Sabrina.
I choke down another rush of frustration and offer a careless shrug. “I guess.”
I’m sick of this. So fucking sick of it. I want to tell my friends about Sabrina. I want to tell them about the baby and get their advice, but she made me promise not to say a word until we’d made a decision. Then again, if that decision results in no baby, there’d be no point in telling them anyway. What would I even say? I knocked someone up, but she had an abortion, so there’s nothing to talk about?
I swallow through my suddenly dry mouth. I have no idea how I got to this place. My friends tease me about being a Boy Scout, and truthfully I thought I had the “be prepared” thing down pat. But one careless mistake and now I might be a father. I’m twenty-two, for fuck’s sake.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Panic bubbles in my throat. I’m a patient guy. Rock solid. Good head on my shoulders. I want to have a family someday. I want kids and a wife and a dog and a goddamn picket fence. I want all that—someday.
Not today. Not nine months from now. Not—
You might not have a choice.
Christ.
“C’mon,” Garrett says, gently nudging me forward. “We’re all going back to the house.”
Swallowing my panic, I let my friends herd me out of the stadium and into the parking lot. I rode to campus with Garrett and Hannah, so I climb into the backseat of Garrett’s Jeep. Allie slides in beside me. The four of us don’t say a single word during the drive home.
The moment we walk through the front door, Allie hurries upstairs to Dean’s room. I still can’t believe he skipped out on Beau’s memorial, but I get the feeling Dean hasn’t experienced much loss in his life. I don’t think he knows how to handle it, and I find myself praying that Allie can get through to him.
The rest of us ditch our coats and boots and traipse into the living room. Hannah and Grace make some coffee, and we sit in silence for a while. It’s like we all have PTSD or something. We’ve lost a friend and can’t make sense of it.
Eventually, Garrett loosens his tie and then tugs it off, dropping it on the arm of the couch. With a weary sigh, he says, “Graduation is in a few months.”
Everyone nods, though I’m not sure if it’s in agreement or just a form of acknowledgment.
He glances around the living room, his expression going sad. “I’m going to miss this house.”
Yeah, me too. And I still have no idea where I’ll be in May. The plan was to move back to Texas, but there’s no way I can do that when there’s so much uncertainty between me and Sabrina. Granted, by May I’ll already have an answer about the baby. I looked it up online, so I know that if Sabrina chooses to have an abortion, her window will end in early March.
I swallow a strangled groan. God. I hate not knowing where I stand. Where we stand.
“I’m excited to go apartment hunting,” Hannah says, but despite her words, there isn’t a trace of excitement in her voice.
Joanna’s a beautiful woman, with a chin-length dark bob and blue eyes like Beau’s. Those eyes are so lifeless right now. Her face is haunted. So are the faces of her parents.
In her simple black dress, she sinks onto the bench of a black grand piano on the other side of the stage. I was wondering about the piano, and now I have my answer. Joanna Maxwell was a music major when she went to Briar, landing a job on Broadway right after graduation. Hannah says she’s an incredible singer.
I wince as microphone feedback screeches through the stadium.
“Sorry,” Joanna murmurs, then adjusts the mic and leans closer. “I don’t think many of you know this, but my brother was actually a pretty good singer. He wouldn’t dare to sing in public, though. He had his bad boy reputation to maintain, after all.”
Laughter ripples through the bleachers. It’s eerie combined with the wave of grief hanging over us.
“Anyway, Beau was a big music buff. When we were little, we would sneak into our dad’s den and mess around with his record player.” She sheepishly glances at her father. “Sorry you’re just finding that out now, Daddy. But I swear we didn’t break into the liquor cabinet.” She pauses. “At least not until we were older.”
Mr. Maxwell shakes his head ruefully. Another wave of laughter washes through the stands.
“We loved listening to the Beatles.” She adjusts the mic again and poises her fingers over the ivory keys. “This was Beau’s favorite song, so—” Her voice cracks. “—I thought I would sing it for him today.”
My heart aches as the first strains of “Let It Be” fill the stadium. Sabrina clutches my hand tighter. Her fingers are like ice. I squeeze them, hoping to warm her up, but I know mine are equally cold.
By the time Joanna finishes singing, there isn’t a dry eye in the bleachers. I’m rapidly blinking back tears, but eventually I give up and let them stream down my cheeks without wiping them away.
Afterward, Joanna gracefully rises from the piano bench and rejoins her parents. Then come the speeches, and the tears only fall harder. Coach Deluca gets behind the podium and talks about what a talented player Beau was, his dedication, his strength of character. A few of his teammates speak, making us laugh again with stories about Beau’s shenanigans in the locker room. Beau’s mom thanks everybody for coming, for supporting her son, for loving him.
I feel ravaged when the memorial finally reaches its conclusion.
Sorrow thickens the air as people shuffle out of their seats and make their way down the aisles. Sabrina releases my hand and walks ahead of me. Hope and Carin sandwich her between them like two mother hens, each one wrapping an arm around her shoulders as the trio descends the steps.
On the landing, I come up behind her and lean in to murmur in her ear. “Want me to come to Boston tonight?”
She gives a slight shake of her head, and disappointment and frustration flood my stomach. She must see it in my eyes, because she bites her lip and whispers, “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper back.
With my heart in my throat, I watch her walk away.
“What was that about?” Garrett appears beside me, focusing on Sabrina’s retreating back.
“Just offering my condolences,” I lie. “That’s Sabrina James—she used to date Beau.”
“Oh.” He frowns. “Dean’s Sabrina?”
My Sabrina.
I choke down another rush of frustration and offer a careless shrug. “I guess.”
I’m sick of this. So fucking sick of it. I want to tell my friends about Sabrina. I want to tell them about the baby and get their advice, but she made me promise not to say a word until we’d made a decision. Then again, if that decision results in no baby, there’d be no point in telling them anyway. What would I even say? I knocked someone up, but she had an abortion, so there’s nothing to talk about?
I swallow through my suddenly dry mouth. I have no idea how I got to this place. My friends tease me about being a Boy Scout, and truthfully I thought I had the “be prepared” thing down pat. But one careless mistake and now I might be a father. I’m twenty-two, for fuck’s sake.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Panic bubbles in my throat. I’m a patient guy. Rock solid. Good head on my shoulders. I want to have a family someday. I want kids and a wife and a dog and a goddamn picket fence. I want all that—someday.
Not today. Not nine months from now. Not—
You might not have a choice.
Christ.
“C’mon,” Garrett says, gently nudging me forward. “We’re all going back to the house.”
Swallowing my panic, I let my friends herd me out of the stadium and into the parking lot. I rode to campus with Garrett and Hannah, so I climb into the backseat of Garrett’s Jeep. Allie slides in beside me. The four of us don’t say a single word during the drive home.
The moment we walk through the front door, Allie hurries upstairs to Dean’s room. I still can’t believe he skipped out on Beau’s memorial, but I get the feeling Dean hasn’t experienced much loss in his life. I don’t think he knows how to handle it, and I find myself praying that Allie can get through to him.
The rest of us ditch our coats and boots and traipse into the living room. Hannah and Grace make some coffee, and we sit in silence for a while. It’s like we all have PTSD or something. We’ve lost a friend and can’t make sense of it.
Eventually, Garrett loosens his tie and then tugs it off, dropping it on the arm of the couch. With a weary sigh, he says, “Graduation is in a few months.”
Everyone nods, though I’m not sure if it’s in agreement or just a form of acknowledgment.
He glances around the living room, his expression going sad. “I’m going to miss this house.”
Yeah, me too. And I still have no idea where I’ll be in May. The plan was to move back to Texas, but there’s no way I can do that when there’s so much uncertainty between me and Sabrina. Granted, by May I’ll already have an answer about the baby. I looked it up online, so I know that if Sabrina chooses to have an abortion, her window will end in early March.
I swallow a strangled groan. God. I hate not knowing where I stand. Where we stand.
“I’m excited to go apartment hunting,” Hannah says, but despite her words, there isn’t a trace of excitement in her voice.
