Bittersweet (12 page)

Sandra met Edy at the place where they agreed. Edy stood in the halo of sunset watching her blonde tresses flutter from the bench where she sat. There was still time to walk away, still time to be sensible.

Edy scooted in next to Sandra. Neither girl looked at the other.

“He’s not any better, is he?” Edy said. She didn’t know why she asked. She already knew the answer.

Sandra inhaled deep and ventured a look at her. When she closed her eyes, she drew back and exhaled in a gust. “Leave it alone, Edy. Leave him alone. Please.”

‘Please.’ What a pitiful word coming from Sandra.

“Is it true he’s dropped out of school?” Edy said.

Warning. A look of warning.

It sparked through Edy, igniting rage. “You can’t tell me how he’s doing? You can’t tell me if he’s dropped out? I put him in this situation, Sandra! Me! Please!”

Her father had given her the one update. There hadn’t been any more news after that, other than the same churning rumor mill at school. He’d died three times in that and her nerves couldn’t take a fourth.

“Reggie put him there,” Sandra said, eyes on the dark and winding Charles River. “He confessed. This is the tidbit I’m reminded of every Wednesday at 4 p.m., faithfully.”

Therapy.

All around Edy, people hurt because of decisions she’d made. Small choices with big consequences. Big choices that devastated. What she’d done to Wyatt, the rift in Hassan’s family, Rani’s words. You’re unforgiving. You’re unforgiving. Who was she meant to forgive? Which way was right for her when every turn hurt someone?

Edy sighed. “So, will you do this for me?”

Sandra shifted. Discomfort hung unspoken between them.

“Hurry before I change my mind,” Sandra said and thrust out her hand, waiting.

Edy dug in her coat pocket. When she handed the scrap of paper over, she shook.

“Hassan doesn’t know about this, does he?” Sandra said.

“No.” He was black and white; he’d never understand. He’d question his mother’s motives for bringing Wyatt up. Everything between Edy and Rani was suspect since the day she saw them kiss. He was paranoid, furtive, distant with his mother. He wounded her every day and didn’t know or didn’t care.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Edy said. “With or without Hassan.”

It iced her stomach to keep secrets from him, but it was time she knew the truth.

Sandra tucked away the note and stared at her. “You know, you’re nothing like I thought,” she said. Her cheeks actually colored. “We should hang sometime.”

“Um, sure,” Edy said. That would when the world went belly up.

Graduation came for the twins, then summer heat. Obscene heat, stockpiled and released in a blast all at once. Air conditioning on the fritz, Edy sat on the couch, windows open, nostrils flared, as sweat slipped from the pulse behind her ear to the hollow of her shoulder. She went to the study, ransacked the desk drawer and grabbed two office rubber bands to reinforce the messy ponytail sat tangled atop her head.

Edy rushed back, flailed like a beach whale on the couch, and groaned when the doorbell rang. Another episode of
Dance? Dance Better
had just started. Whoever stood on the other side of that door begged to be ignored. After all, a Pradhan should have a key, the Dyson twins would climb through a window, and Lawrence would leave after the first ring. No one else stopped by without a call first.

The doorbell rang again, feverish this time. Edy jumped up, determined to see the person off. Even if
Dance? Dance Better
was waiting patiently, already pre-recorded.

“It’s me Edy,” Hassan shouted, muffled through the door. “I’ve got a gift.”

Okay. Gifts from the boyfriend. That’ll work. Edy threw open the door and grinned. In his arms was a massive contraption of a fan.

“You love me,” she said.

“I love you,” he said, peeking out from the side of the box. Bare muscles flexed as they curved around the shape of her new gift. He wore an impromptu tank, or rather, a tee with the sleeves torn off.

She threw the door wide to let him in. 

“Now, should I put this up in your room or …” He turned to face her, eyebrows dancing.

Edy pressed against him so that the box wedged firm between them. He lowered it and a smirk of a smile revealed itself. Not long now until he disappeared for summer camp. She placed a hand on his arm and felt the sweat, the hardness, the concrete mold he’d become while chasing perfection in the sun, the rain, snow, sleet, hail, under moonlight even.

The box slipped a little lower. His hair had grown out and streaked bronze from sunlight. Hair shadowed his chin and sweat wet his collar. She pushed down on the box a little more.

“When I go to camp—”

She’d nearly opened her mouth and said the same, replacing the ‘I’ for ‘you’, of course. Camp. Away. Not literally far, but away just the same. Their cells would be confiscated. No outside communication allowed. He’d be down the highway and locked in a vault, away from her and in the limelight.

Attention changes people, does it not? Priorities shift and distance from loved ones becomes the norm. Rani’s words circled Edy like a shark. She willed them away; they returned, sensing fear, smelling blood.

It didn’t matter what she thought. Edy would say her goodbyes and pray that every advantage came to Hassan. She loved him hard; she loved him best. She could want nothing but the wildest success for him.

“Wait,” Hassan said and stepped back long enough to toss the box in her dad’s armchair. He returned to her again, fingers slipping up her arm. He licked his lips and dragged a hand to her waist, slow and molding, memorizing her by touch.

He pressed his forehead to hers, green eyes hooded and darkened.

“What?” Edy whispered. “What are you over thinking now?”

“Is Vi still helping you over the summer? Private lessons with the legend?”

Edy blushed when he described it like that. He always talked as if she’d earned everything, even luck, circumstance, and Vi’s attention.

“Only a little,” she said. Hopefully a lot.

Hassan nodded and stepped away. Near the door he opened his mouth, closed it, and dropped his gaze for awhile. When he did look up again, he’d rallied the best of smiles.

“Remind Vi you’re a gem,” he said. “Good luck. I’ll miss you.”   

On a Sunday in July at 7 a.m., sixteen boys reported for two weeks of camp at Gillette Stadium, Hassan and Lawrence among them. As part of the experience, they would be required to share living quarters at nearby Wheaton College.

Two weeks of gut busting drills and sweat-laden moments, seven-hour schedules and scrutiny shoved on scrutiny. They endured questions about diet, health, workout routine, and ‘support systems’, all asked by white jackets who keyed in everything endlessly on tablets.

Oh, but the drills. Concentration. Pass Protection. Speed. Explosiveness. Bring it. Bring it. Bring it.

Then there was Earl Rush, standing there, grinning as they drilled. The NFL running back whose number he’d sported as a kid, the New England Patriot whose jersey only Edy could touch. Even then she got a bit of side eye. That Earl Rush stood before him. Hassan’s only thought? Don’t say something stupid. But then Rush said, “I’m with Pradhan.” He pulled out his cell, called his wife, and walked off. Like that, he became Hassan’s mentor.

Lawrence had a few surprises in him, too. Lawrence who’d been asked too many times, “aren’t you Steve Dysons’ boy?” and “didn’t your brothers just head to Georgia?” That Lawrence burst through every drill and every rep as viciously as fourth quarter with his back to the end zone. That Lawrence Dyson had a message for the crowd.

Hassan and his usual stats were such old news that towards the end of the camp Lawrence was all the buzz. That is, until the day of the race. They began with a series of drills aimed at maximizing Hassan’s acceleration and ended with a random staffer speculating, within ear shot of Rush, that Hassan might be faster than Earl was in the league. Oh boy. So, then his idol wanted to race. Hassan tried to point out as delicately as possible that he was a little older now and might not be able to match his same pace. Yeah, so the race was on. They lined up with an ex-Patriots defensive tackle clutching a stop watch and Hassan attempting to swallow the lump of intimidation in his throat. Running was running, right? Tell his heart beat that. Tell his sweating palms that. This was Earl Rush. Hassan looked over and caught Lawrence on the sideline.

“Show him something," Lawrence mouthed.

“Muscles taunt, body low—low for minimal resistance,” Rush murmured. “Watch your form. Good.”

A whistle blew.

Bye.

Hassan didn’t need the whoop from Lawrence to tell him he’d won. But damn, that old man broke a good second.

“Next time,” Rush breathed. “I’ll keep the running tips to myself.”

Hassan flashed a grin, lungs expanding as they drenched up air. When the same random staffer who’d made the challenge trotted over, eyes wild, something told Hassan more bad news would follow.

“Don’t say it,” Rush said and laughed at himself.

“He beat your old time.”

“What?” For the man to be winded, he sure knew how to turn fatigue right off.

Hassan shook his head. “Listen, we were just fooling. Forget it. It never happened.”

Rush looked at him as if he’d come to the party with food on his face. “Are you going to make all these people forget it, too? You going to make them forget you? Forget me?” He clapped him on the back. “Take another lesson from The Rush: not every chance comes back twice. So run with them when they come. You’re obviously good at running.”

Rush’s words ignited Hassan. They stayed with him through camp. When his parents and Edy came to pick him up, those were the words he heard when he swept his girl up.

Not every chance comes back twice. Run with them. Run with her. Make it work.

Hassan hugged Edy fiercely as he thought of only chances, of how they took a chance on them, on togetherness. She brought out the absolute best parts of him. They made sense. They were love. But they were risky. They had only one shot.

“I missed you too,” Edy said in his ear.

He looked up to find both parents staring. He hadn’t said ‘hello’ to either one as of yet.

Hassan peeled away, eyes darting from one to the other. “Pita. Mata.” He’d jumped right to Punjabi; him being deferential, a sure sign he’d been up to something. Hassan swallowed as he thought about how to fix it. Sure was a hot day. Great for lemonade.

His mother’s eyes lit like flames. The sun hit them all wrong, maybe. Or maybe she was just that pissed. He’d seen an episode once on A&E about people spontaneously combusting. They’d sit in arm chairs or lay in beds and burn from the inside out, supposedly. His mother was a good candidate for that, judging by the eyes.

“You appear to have missed someone,” she said in Punjabi.

Great. Here she was with the doublespeak, playing a game he’d yet to figure out. Why hadn’t she told his dad about him and Edy? What was she doing with Edy? He no more trusted her newfound ability to forgive and forget any more than he trusted a starved lion.

Hassan’s mouth opened wide without knowing what he would say. Probably the truth, at that point. But Earl Rush came out to say goodbye. It was a goodbye that lasted half an hour. He confessed to losing the 40 yard dash and was subjected to amped up bragging from Hassan’s dad. Afterward, he asked for Rush’s professional opinion on school choices. He threw out a few names, but advised Hassan to guard his choice until the end. Hassan’s dad surprised him when he wound up walking away with Rush’s number.

“And you,” Rush said turning to Edy, voice quiet. “I do think I’d be mistaken not to get your name.” He shot a covert look at Hassan.

“Edy,” she whispered, smiling.

Rush tipped his ball cap to her. He clapped Hassan on the back in departure and left him with that, his final lesson: a true running back sees everything.

Everything except embarrassment, apparently.  

                                                               ~~~

July tumbled into August, and the time grew near for Matt and Mason to leave. On the eve of departure, they were lively, adamant about it, whooping and waving Georgia tees as they barreled down their halls and banged on every wall. Both Edy and Hassan had gone over to spend the final evening with them. For what it was worth, Edy couldn’t stop her eyes from leaking.

“God, I can’t believe this. What's wrong with you?” Lawrence demanded the second he saw her on the edge of Matt’s bed. Next to her, Hassan wavered between blushing embarrassment and a touch of amusement.

“Your girl is gonna miss me,” Matt said and looked straight in Hassan’s eyes. “Come here, baby girl and give me some love.” He opened his arms wide for a hug.

Edy scalded him with a look of warning that he returned with puppy dog eyes.

“I was just thinking about the time you skinned your knee at Ramsay Park,” he said. “Remember how I carried you on my back? The whole way home?”

“That was me!” Mason yelled from the hall. “I carried you, Edy! Me!”

“How would you know?” Matt yelled. “No one can tell us apart!”

Lawrence shook his head in disgust. “College educational standards really must be slipping.”

Edy rolled her eyes. One of them did carry her from Ramsay Park when she was six, but she never could remember which. She knew of two defining characteristics to tell the twins apart. One was the ears, of which Matt’s laid smaller and a bit flatter. Supposedly, they’d grown out the dreads to hide this characteristic, as half the pranks they played couldn’t be pulled off otherwise. The other could only be seen when they scowled, of which Mason’s forehead took on an extra line. There was a rumored third, whispered between the girls at school, but Edy had no intention of discovering that.

“How about I say you both did?” she suggested, as the two continued to argue. Mason and Matt enveloped her in a hug.

“Bring Hassan and Lawrence in two years,” Mason said. “Bring them with you to Georgia.”

Edy snorted. “You know I’m supposed to go to Harvard, right?”

“Yeah. Me too,” Mason said. “They hired me on as dean.”

She supposed it was just as likely. Not because he couldn’t apply himself, but because Mason and Matt had their priorities. They kept respectable grade point averages because Steve and Tessa would kill them, not because of any innate drive toward scholarship.

“Come on, Edy. Be you.” Matt tapped her on the nose. “No one can stop that.”

“I like you,” Mason agreed.

“I love you,” Matt said and shot him a look.

“Well, I loved her first. I’m older,” Mason said.

Matt broke the huddle. “That doesn’t even count. You’re like thirty minutes—”

“I’m thirty-two minutes older than you. Don’t act like you don’t know, little bro.”

Edy looked from one to the other. “Um, thanks guys. I appreciate the talk.”

The twins burned each other with threatening looks before returning to her.

“There’s something else we need to talk to you about,” Mason said. “A couple of something elses. Like, ballet, for example. You’re great at it and all. The best from what we can see. But since Rani—”

Edy took a step back. “Hold on. Wait a minute. Just give me a second.” She’d gone from warm and gentle to a razor’s edge and shaking.

Mason inhaled. “Give us a second. Lawrence? Sawn?”

“I’ll give you plenty,” Hassan said and took Lawrence out the door.

Mason took a seat gingerly on the bed, leaving Matt to take a chair. Edy stood, gaze slipping from one to the other, ready to shove either in their place when they spoke.

“Look, Edy. I know what you’re thinking. And you’d be right.” Mason held up his hands in self defense. “We don’t know anything about ballet or dance, really. We only know you. The thing is, we really know you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So?”

“So you seemed like you were into more than ballet before,” Mason said. “And it used to excite you. All that stuff you and Ronnie Bean came up with.”

Edy shook her head. “There’s no future in that.”

“So you made up your mind? Ballet’s your career?” Matt said.

She felt trapped the minute he said it, pinned in, shut down. “Well, no. I didn’t say that. Only … that isn’t the way.”

 “Says who?” both boys chimed in.

Says Rani. Says Vi. Says Vi according to Rani.

Edy plopped on the bed and dropped her head on Mason’s shoulder. “Why are we talking about me? You’re the ones who’re leaving.”

Matt came over to bookend her other side. “Because we’re worried. Worried that you guys are dumb enough to burn down the house while we’re gone. No Matt and Mason to the rescue.”

Mason scowled at him. “Only a demon speaks backwards like that. It’s ‘Mason and Matt.’ The eldest first.”

Edy looked from one to the other, her first brothers and friends. “Rani said—”

“‘Rani said?’” Mason shook his head. “Listen to me, Edy. You’re loyal to a fault and see only the best in the people you love. Trust me, I appreciate being on the receiving end. But the truth is, you’ve got to use your head not your heart sometimes. All of us, and I mean all of us, have our own motivations. We can fail you. You don’t want to think about what happens when those motivations cross swords with yours. But you’d better. You’d better open your eyes real soon.”

“What are you doing in there?” Vanessa shouted through the door. Four blows rattled it before it flung open.

“Love you,” Mason said and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Matt followed with the same.

Mason cupped hands around his mouth and rushed out. “It’s great to be a Georgia Bulldog!”

“I said it’s great to be a Georgia Bulldog!” The answer came barreling back, not just from Matt, but from corners of the upstairs hall. His mother, father, twin, and Vanessa, a hopeful Bulldog, all shouted an eager reply.

Edy caught a glimpse of Lawrence, who leaned against the hall’s wall, long, and strong, alone. He rolled his eyes and turned away from the chant. And for the first time, it occurred to Edy that maybe, just maybe, they harbored a mutineer in the Dyson house.

Friday night, the Dysons threw a going away party for the twins. By Saturday afternoon, they were bound for Logan Airport. A flight into Atlanta would be followed by a forty-five minute drive up to campus. Two Land Rovers and all the possessions that could fit in a dorm room had been shipped ahead of time. The Dyson family would fly out together to settle the boys. In a last minute move, they added a ticket for Hassan so he could see the campus and meet the coach.

In every way, it seemed, the future and its decisions came barreling at them.