Lullaby of Love (6 page)

“Hey sis.”

“Dane!”
The excitement in her voice picks up. “Hang on, okay?”

“Sure.” I can hear her palm scratch across the mouthpiece, covering it as she yells for mom to come to the phone.

“Mom’s on her way. How are things going out there?” She likes hearing about Yale. Even when the news sounds the same to me every time, but I indulge her. Other than coming out here to visit me, she’s stayed mostly near home to be with mom. When she decided to get a nursing degree she chose a small university only thirty minutes away to be home every night. Being left to feel like the man of the house since I was little, I owe her a lot. “We saw Coach Malloy at the steak house last night. He said he’s leaving Thursday to get to see you before your big meet this weekend. He says you’ll have no trouble against them again this year.” Kate gets really excited about the Yale/Harvard rivalry and that her brother has made the headlines the past two years. I make sure to send her all of the papers with track news—and she makes sure to show everybody back home, whether I like it or not. She’s made a book of the clippings that she puts with all of my trophies I’ve kept. Each time I get home she shows me the new additions to it.

“Yeah.
I heard from him a couple of days ago. It’ll be good to see him. How’s school?” I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one working hard. I know she works harder than I do just taking care of everything; the two of them there on their own.

“School’s great! It’s going really well—no complaints. How about you? Were you able to get rid of Vince yet?” she teases, knowing I’m stuck with him until the end of the term.

“Hardly.” If I say too much more I’ll get myself frustrated just thinking about it. Luckily he took a road trip to Florida over spring break and I spared them of his
ways
for the short time they were here.

“That bad still, huh?” she asks with sympathy in her voice.

“Just a couple of more months, I’ll manage. How’s Mom?”

“She’s right here. Love
ya Dane.”

“Love you too, sis,” something sticks in my throat. It’s a long way from home, and a long time before I’ll be back again.

“Honey! How are you?” I know mom, by now she’ll have been patiently pacing waiting her turn.

“Hi Mom.
I’m doing fine, just fine! Everything okay there?” I ask certain if something ever did come up Kate would call me immediately.

“Sure! Everything’s good. We miss you honey! Do you need anything?” Their voices are all I need somehow to break up the monotony out here. My whole heart is in running, and representing an Ivy League school is
a dream come true, but even then the demands get a little heavy at times.

“I miss both of you, and no, I’ve got everything I need to get by. Thanks Mom.” I feel myself calming down from the day just talking to them.

I switch the phone from one ear to the other and raise my arm back behind my head, stuffing it under the thickness of my pillow.

“Dane?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Son, is there anyone special?” I could hear Kate’s protest in the background. Somehow I had gotten spared of that question when they were out here—I guess she thinks she’s being less invasive subjecting me to
it on the phone only. I can’t remember one call home where she hasn’t felt compelled to pry about girls.

“No, Mom. Don’t have time.”

A click comes on the phone and Kate’s voice joins in from another line. “Don’t worry about Mom, Dane. She knows they’re like mosquitoes to sugar around you, and all of them as shallow as their empty Prada bags they prance around with. And you know what coach says—the worst thing for a runner’s legs is a girl.”

Shifting from my comfortable position, my face feels warm, and I rub my hand across my forehead and down my closed eyes and mouth, to rest on my chest. Kate’s right about the girls, but even then not being out here she has no idea how hard it really is on us guys, to keep any moral sense about us.

“Kate!” mom breaks in, and jars any further thoughts for the three of us. This is the part of the conversation I could live without.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting late and I’ve got to get up early,” I cue them.

“Sure honey. We miss you and we love you. I’m sending a couple of things along with Coach Malloy. We’re all so proud,” her voice begins to shake a little.

“Don’t cry, Mom. I love you both.”

“See ya soon, Dane,” Kate chimes in before hanging up to go to mom I’m sure.

“See
ya, Kate.”

“Love you son.”
  I can hear Kate near her.

“Love you Mom. See
ya soon.”

I’m beat.

The apartment’s quiet. I heard the front door slam shut while I was on the phone.

I decide it’s worth it to go to the kitchen and heat something up. My stomach’s been
growling since before I left practice.

shay

I’m not letting myself admit that I took a little extra time getting ready this morning, or that I was restless sleeping last night. I’ll chalk it up to the fact that this is the first day back after spring break.

It’s 6:55 and there are other people already here tying up a few last minute things before their first students arrive.

I look around my room—everything ready to go. It’ll stay this organized for about one more hour, before the undergraduates are unleashed upon it. Oh well, we’re halfway through the semester, by now some of them are beginning to understand this is the last haul to pass the course and become a little more serious about their effort, and that proves to give me somewhat of a break commanding them.

I look at the time on my watch; three minutes have passed. If I’m going to do this I better get going to the front door. I take a slow breath in, not to relieving. I can feel I’m slightly trembling just inhaling.

“Okay, now or never,” I say softly into the air.

I leave the door unlocked, walking out of my room—with a back thought—stepping back in to grab my satchel. How obvious would I be standing there looking aloof at the bench—no bag. I grab it and rush down the corridor to the stairwell to get to the front door.

As I’m getting nearer the entrance I find myself going a little faster not to miss him right at the stroke of seven—if he did happen to come. And then I begin to realize how much I’ve been fantasizing about something that is more of an anomaly than a real possibility and the feeling of disappointment starts to set in. But I make myself a promise to follow through no matter what, urging my footsteps to keep going and get outside. The bench can’t be seen from just standing at the doors. I’ll have to actually walk down the steps that are overcome on both sides with giant,
decades old shrubbery, to even get a look.

Oh my God!

Now what?

His back is to me—he hasn’t seen me yet—I could fast go back inside!

Too late.

dane

I begin to count the empty buses as they go past to collect students. I’m sure the coffee is getting cold by now. I can’t throw it away, it’s my only excuse to be sitting here on this bench—
an offering
—an excuse.

What’ve I got to lose—it won’t be the first time I’ve looked ridiculous in front of a girl. I’ll just tell her that I thought the least I could do was replace her coffee and see how she’s doing—any bruising?
What am I saying—she’s not one of my teammates!
Jesus!
Why am I so nervous?

I twist my wrist to look at my watch out of the sun’s glare. 7:00—ish. It could be a minute or two fast or slow. If it’s slow I may have already missed her by now; it was about this time that I clobbered her yesterday. For that matter I don’t even know if she would show up here the very next day, what with classes Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Tuesday, Thursday, most of them. Being here’s a roll of the dice.

. . . I’ll risk it.

Not even my dreams could escape the thought of her. I tossed and turned all night, getting up once to saunter into the kitchen and get a glass of water. They came one after the other. . .
 she was there in the stands waving the school colors as I crossed the finish line. . . and with Kate laughing at my mishaps, as I took joy in seeing them smile together. . . I saw her sitting with me on the porch swing back in Kansas 50 years from now—looking the very same way. . . and I saw her in my bed, softly breathing, asleep in my arms.

I sit the coffee on the sidewalk beside the bench. My hand’s started to sweat a little, maybe from just clinging to it for the walk here, or from my nerves that seem to be running way too high. Anyway, if she does finally let me touch her hand and introduce myself, I don’t want her disgusted by the warmth.

I rub my spread fingers up and down on my jeans. The hardness of my thighs being pressed against this bench, squeezed into heavy denim, makes me glad to get down to the stadium and change into shorts. I roll my head around one time trying to shake away any obvious unease. And take a deep breath in and out.

Just as I get a little centered, I hear a glass door clang shut from up and around me, and footsteps for the first time since sitting
here. . . but coming from the building. . .

Not knowing if it’s her, I don’t want to walk out to the end of the stairs as if I’m presenting someone with a
bouquet of coffee
for the being the first person to walk on them this morning.

The heightened anxiety in me comes rushing up and I
turn. . . and I can’t help the smile that controls me immediately.

shay

His smile.

I find myself smiling too before looking away to say good morning to a fellow grad student passing at the bottom of the steps.

As I turn back, he’s picking something up off of the ground. I’m glad that he’s approaching me; I feel a little frozen in place.

“Hi.” He’s just as gentle looking as he was yesterday, even in all of the commotion.

“Hi.” I feel for the strap across my shoulder and slide my bag down to my side.

“I brought you a coffee to make up for spilling yours. I’m sure sorry about running into you. Are you alright?” He steps closer and offers me the cup. There’s a bag taped to the top of it with little disposable creamers and packets of sugar. The thoughtfulness almost makes me feel lightheaded, as if I’m in a dream state. As much as I wanted him to be here, I can’t really believe that he’s standing across from me.

I reach for the cup, my fingers lightly grazing his. Now I’m fully alert. “I’m fine, really, not anything a couple of aspirin couldn’t help,” I nervously manage half-truthfully. My body still reminded me this morning of the remnants of pain in some places. “Thank you for the coffee,” I say, looking up at him. His eyes connect with mine, and in them I can see all of the flecks of colors that make up hazel, in the softest eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. And for a moment I feel compelled not to shyly turn away, not instantly, like I would normally.

“I’m Dane,” he holds his hand out. A thousand thoughts race past in one second, but not one of them this time telling me to resist the invitation.

“. . . Shay,” I say, sliding my hand into his. The length of his fingers cradles my hand in one soft, fluid motion and he gently releases it.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

dane

My nervousness has all but left. Just having her here in front of me subdues me—I can’t explain it. And the touch of her hand, she didn’t resist like she had yesterday, but of course she was in pain and likely blamed me for being careless. Yet, I don’t even think now that she would’ve thought that—just an accident.

I release her hand; the softness gliding off of my fingertips.

There’s no reason to tell her I came back yesterday, or that I already knew her name.

A light breeze blushes past us and I can smell the scent of her perfume. She reaches and tucks her hair loosely behind her ear that’s brushed over her cheek. It’s very pretty, and the auburn strands catch the sunlight. I turn away briefly, not wanting to reveal myself, and pretend to look down the sidewalk at the people slowly starting to cluster
around, and then back up at the front of the building.

“Are you familiar with the biology building?” she asks, following my gaze.

Her voice, the way she had looked yesterday had haunted me and I had all but forgotten how gentle it was. “Only a little,” I say, recovering and still not wanting to divulge that I took a self-tour and found her picture, only to be escorted out by the janitor. “Are you a graduate student. . . in biology?” About half of my classes are taught by one, who’s only a couple of years older than me, so I don’t think it’s too obvious asking—given the fact that I knew and couldn’t think my way around it too well right now.