Baggage Check (32 page)

The principal made a short speech about Cory, with information apparently gathered from news clippings and old yearbooks. The athletic director unveiled a shadow box with one of Cory's jerseys framed within, officially retiring number 22. He shook their hands quickly and thanked them for being there, and then hurried off the field to rejoin his team in the locker room.

A smattering of applause followed the presentation, but most of the crowd seemed distracted by the imminent appearance of the homecoming court, who were waiting for their entrance in shiny convertibles at the other end of the field. Rebecca turned to say hello to Alex, but found him engrossed in conversation with Will Caterman and John Boozer about some amazing play that had occurred two decades before. Roger noticed her, however, and gave her a perfunctory hug and invited her to join “the whole gang” at Dickie's after the game. Then they were politely ushered to the sidelines and back into the bleachers.

There was no one Rebecca recognized among the faculty and staff present, except the band director Mr. Wallace, who had been at the beginning of his career when she played oboe as a freshman. For the most part, these people did not know her and did not remember Cory. Her dad waved stoically and shook hands with one or two friends who greeted him; a few older people wiped away tears or squeezed Rebecca's arm as they made their way back to their seats.

She tried to catch Alex's eye before he disappeared into the crowd, but he was gone too quickly. And whether intentionally or not, he never seemed to put himself where she might be in his line of sight.

When she regained her seat, Suzanne said, “That was just lovely, honey.”

“Suze is just excited because those girls over there asked for her autograph,” Marci said.

“You're kidding.”

“Nope,” Suzanne said, barely holding back her delighted grin. “They recognized me from the wedding pictures in
Country Today
.”

“Good thing they didn't recognize you from the incident at the museum,” Jake said. “I guess those pictures may not have made it out here.”

Suzanne glared at him. “Don't hate me because I'm married to a handsome, famous superstar.”

All three of them groaned and Marci threw popcorn at Suzanne. It caught in her platinum hair and stuck to her sweater. It was beginning to get chilly now that the sun had set, Rebecca noticed.

“Are you guys ready to go?”

“Back to your dad and Sonia's?” Jake asked.

“Well, yes, or there's one other place we could go. Anybody want Buffalo wings?”

*   *   *

Dickie's was more crowded than Rebecca had ever seen it. On top of it being Friday night in a small town, it seemed that more than just the class of 1997 had gotten the memo about the after-game party. Since Oreville High was running away with the game and it was getting cooler out, large numbers had already defected from the stadium to seek warmth and beer.

The four of them got settled at the only remaining booth, and sat enjoying the ambience while they waited for Kevin to appear. When he did, he called Rebecca by name, earning her an impressed eyebrow-raise from Jake. They ordered a large platter of wings, a pitcher of beer, and a Sprite with lime for Marci, who had agreed to be the designated driver with the caveat that she would be the final judge of when it was time to go home.

She saw Alex right after their food was delivered to the table. He was standing near the bar with the other guys in green jerseys, and they were lifting a round of some kind of purple shot in a noisy toast. His skin looked ruddy from the wind, his eyes shining. Rebecca's heart surged, feeling as though she was seeing him clearly for the first time.

“Would you guys excuse me for a moment?” she asked, but did not wait for an answer before sliding out of her seat to approach him.

“Is that him?” she heard Marci ask Jake as she walked away.

For a few minutes, she had trouble reaching him in the crowd; once she did, she had to tap his shoulder a couple of times before he turned.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Hello.” The coldness in his voice should not have been surprising, but it stung nonetheless.

“I'm so glad to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm here with friends from home,” she said, gesturing at the table. “You remember Jake, probably.”

Marci and Suzanne waved fervently, grinning ridiculously, while Jake gave a more sedate nod. Alex lifted his beer toward them in a perfunctory salute, neither friendly nor hostile.

She searched for what to say next. “I heard you got a job in Birmingham. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Alex.” She touched his arm and felt the muscles tense, and then pull away. “I am so sorry. Your note—I misunderstood. Or maybe I didn't, I don't know. But I was scared, and I left, and I knew you were mad, and then by the time I found the courage to call, it seemed too late, and you didn't call back. I didn't think I had anything to offer, and—”

“You know what?” he said. “I'm just going to save us both some time here. You were right. It just wasn't meant to be. I don't know why I was fighting so hard to make something from nothing.” His neck was flushed and splotchy with anger.

“It wasn't nothing. You were right.”

He ignored her. “And just because I'm taking some engineering classes now doesn't change who I am. I want to be with someone who loves me for
me
: cop, lawyer, engineer, trash man.”

“I know, and I would. I mean, I … I do.”

Alex stopped short. He gave her an appraising look and swallowed hard. In a voice so low it was almost menacing, he said, “Today was nice, for Cory, and your family. It was good for the community. Let's not tarnish the day by saying things we'll regret. You wanted me to leave you alone and I have. Take care of yourself, Rebecca.”

With that, he turned and rejoined the conversation with the team. Feeling foolish facing the back of Alex's jersey, Rebecca turned and made her way back to the booth with all the dignity she could muster. Her friends were kind enough to continue an ongoing conversation about football and the South, and to behave as though they had not seen the interaction. When she ordered tequila shots a moment later, they were kind enough to pretend that was normal, too.

When she looked up a few minutes later, the football group had dispersed somewhat. There were green jerseys in different parts of the room now, and some new people had joined the group at the bar. A petite woman with a bright-red manicure now stood next to Alex, and he had his arm slung around her shoulders. Her hair was no longer streaked with blond, but when she turned to laugh at something he'd said, Rebecca recognized Tanya Boozer.

“That's it,” she said.

“That's what?” Suzanne asked.

“I might need your help, girls. There's something I have to do.”

They looked at one another doubtfully, but stood to follow Rebecca's lead anyway. For Marci, this took an extra moment of sliding her belly out of the wooden booth. There was a little more stumble in Rebecca's step than she expected as she headed for the stage, but she recovered her balance by grasping Marci's hand.

“Easy,” Marci muttered. “I'm six months pregnant, not exactly a pillar of stability.”

No spotlight shone on the stage that night, unlike the first time she had wandered into this place. Then, it had been nearly empty, and Rebecca could scarcely have thought of anything more horrifying than the prospect of taking the stage. Tonight it was full to capacity, which did little to decrease her terror. When she located the microphone and tried to talk into it, nothing happened. Suzanne flagged down the waitress with the long curly hair, who responded to a twenty-dollar tip with a slight smile and at least minimal helpfulness getting the microphone plugged in.

By the time it was working properly and Rebecca was standing on the plywood stage, looking out into the crowd, Suzanne and Marci had climbed up behind her. She hadn't even had to ask. She scanned the crowd and saw Jake at their table, smiling and shaking his head.

“Hello,” she said into the microphone. “Hello? Can you hear me?” A few heads turned in her direction, but most ignored her. She found herself tempted to begin her airline safety speech and tell everyone where the emergency exits were located. There was only one person she really needed to hear her, however, and he was not looking up yet. She tried to think what to say.

“Sing!” yelled a man at a table near the front.

“Oh, no,” she said, finding her voice. “I just have something I wanted to say to someone. Alex? Alex Chen?”

The deputy looked up at the mention of his name and shook his head. Tanya gave her a scornful look and put a possessive hand on Alex's chest.

“Sing!” the man down front repeated. “Sing or get off the stage! It's the rule.”

“Trust me, sir, no one wants that. I
really
can't sing,” Rebecca said. “I'm sorry. Alex, I just wanted to apologize and—”

“Sing! Sing! Sing!” the chant rose from several patrons near the man in the front, and this drew even more attention to her. She looked back at Suzanne and Marci for help, but they were chanting too, all smiles.

Alex was now covering his face with a bar menu.
Dear God.
There was nothing for it. She reached for the only song she could remember in that moment.

She started barely above a whisper, feeling ridiculous. “Baby put your hair up, or wear it down, or…”

Suzanne whispered, “Shave your head!”

“Shave your head.” Her voice trembled.

Alex had lowered the menu and she could see the guys around him ribbing him. “Hey, Alex! When you gonna let your hair down, sweetie?”

There was no going back now. She sang, “We can go out … fishing, to a ball game, or just…” Rebecca blushed, but finished the line anyway. “Rock the bed.”

A glance behind her told her Suzanne and Marci were dancing, swaying from side to side, which was particularly funny with Marci's awkward belly.

Alex was watching her now, smiling a little but still shaking his head. “You can't sing,” he mouthed. She laughed and kept on.

She made herself hold eye contact with him. She could feel her unsteady voice wavering even more. “Honey I don't care, what you do, or what you wear.”

He lifted his hands, cupping them around his ears. “Louder!” he mouthed.

Her voice was painful even to her own ears but she got louder anyway. The crowd cheered. “You don't have to be perfect … but you're perfect for me.”

To her astonishment, applause broke out, with some added cheering by the guys at the table down front.
Just roll with it,
she thought.
It can't get worse.

“Thank you, thank you very much. That song goes out to my good friend, Alex Chen. Do y'all know Alex?”

Another cheer and whooping noises from around the bar. Alex lifted his beer bottle to her and took a long drink. She felt exposed on the stage, and worried that maybe that was all she would get from him. “Keep singing, sweetheart!” one of the men down front called out.

Rebecca spoke the next words in a tuneless sort of melody. “I'm here tonight because I screwed up, to see if I can get a second chance. Well, it's more like a fifth chance.”

“Fifth chance!” Suzanne and Marci sang behind her, backup-singer style. She grinned at them and went on.

“But even if he won't give me that chance, I couldn't leave tonight without telling Alex I love him.”

“Love him, oooooooh.”

“I love you, Alex, even if you can't love me back anymore.” She was no longer singing, just talking to him across the room, across the crowd, as though he were the only other person in the bar. His face was still, lips pressed together. He didn't move, but he didn't drop her gaze.

Rebecca turned back to the crowd in front of her. “That's the first time I've said that to anybody, especially into a microphone in a crowded bar, so y'all be gentle with me. And maybe he will, too.”

One by one, the faces turned toward Alex, who replaced his beer on the bar, and was disentangling himself from an annoyed Tanya Boozer. The same men who had been chanting for Rebecca to sing were now calling his name. “Alex, Alex, Alex…”

He crossed slowly to her, making his way gently through the crowd, leaving her twisting uncomfortably at the microphone. He patted shoulders as he went. He even nudged aside a woman who had just come back from the bathroom and was blocking his path while trying to figure out what the fuss was about. It may not have taken more than a minute for him to make his way over from the bar, but it seemed to take hours.

When he was a couple of feet from the stage, she held out her hand. “You always assume,” he said softly, taking the microphone from her other hand and turning it off with his thumb, “that I'm going to take your hand.”

“You don't have to, you know,” she said, trying and failing to sound as though her whole life did not ride on his response.

“In this case, I think I do.” He took her hand and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply and hoisting her off the stage. She slid down his body, slowly, surrounded by a bar that had erupted in cheers.

“Sorry if I embarrassed you with my bad singing,” she said.

“Well, it's not an airport gate,” he said. “But it will do.”

He gave her another long kiss to the whooping approval of the crowd. One of the guys in green jerseys Rebecca didn't recognize walked past them, clapping Alex on the shoulder as he went. Alex nodded to the guy, but kept his arms around her. Someone turned the karaoke system off and put on music, and they swayed a little as others began slow dancing around them.

“I applied for a job with Southern Air,” she said, a little sheepish.

“In Birmingham?”

“Yep. I need a change.”

“Just need a change, huh?” He was smiling.
He knows the truth. He wants to hear me say it.