Down to the Bone (7 page)

“Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you about it since that first time, when you had one of my books. No offense, but it’s not a very sexy skull.”

“No,” she agreed, snuggling in. “It’s Sahelanthropus tchadensis. Commonly known as Toumaï. Discovered in the Sahara back in 2002. Some anthropologists believe this skull is the earliest hominid, marking our split from chimpanzees. Others think it’s just an ape.”

“What you think?”

“As I’ve got it permanently inked on my shoulder, I vote for early hominid.”

Jarrett shook his head. At times like this, hearing the enthusiasm in her voice, he felt like Liddy and he were from different planets. “I’m afraid I just don’t get it, this fascination with old bones.”

“Bones are it,” she insisted, coming up on an elbow. Her eyes, free of their glasses, sparkled. “People talk about getting to the heart of things, but it’s when you get down to the bone that you find out all a person’s secrets. The shape of their skeleton can tell you their sex, their age, their health. The breaks and fractures can tell you their occupation or lifestyle. Their teeth can tell you what they ate as a child!”

Liddy was fairly glowing now. Jarrett had never seen her so illuminated; he was almost jealous, wishing he could make her look that alive.

“The DNA from bones can reveal an entire genetic history,” she finished up. “All that, the history of an individual, of a species, there in the bones.” She sighed and took note of the old alarm clock. “Damn. I’m going to have to get going. I’m hosting the PAC meeting tonight.”

“Pack?”

“P.A.C. Prehistory Anthropology Club. There are four of us crazy enough to want to spend the rest of our lives piecing together old skull fragments. Don’t suppose you’re interested in joining us? Tonight we’re talking jawbones.”

“Um...maybe next time.”

“Thought you’d say that.” She found her panties and wiggled into them, and then got her bra on. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you as well, meaning no offence...but what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jarrett frowned, uncertain whether to be insulted. “I’m a football player.”

“Yeah, I know.” She handed him his shirt. “But you have some other interest, right? A major?”

He finally got his briefs and jeans all the way up. The crowded little closet made it hard, but he managed to adjust himself and get zipped up.

“I’ll decide on some major along the way, sure, but after I graduate, I’m going into the big leagues. Football to me is what your skulls are to you. And the money’s damn good.”

“True. But unless I go blind or something, I can study skeletons till I’m ninety.” She dragged on her sweater. “In football, players get broken bones, torn ligaments. Some end up with spinal injuries paralyzed for life. Your career could end in the middle of your next game. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll probably be out by the time you’re thirty.”

Her words made him go cold even as they left him strangely touched. So. That’s what this was all about. She’d done her research and now she was worried about him. He wasn’t sure whether to be moved or annoyed. His plans—or lack of plans for the future were, after all, none of her business.

“That’s life,” he said tersely, lacing up his shoes. “You gotta take the risks to succeed.”

“It’s not life. It’s a constructed competition.” She was eying him now as if he were an idiot. “And it hardly seems successful if you come out of it suffering through years of surgery and post-concussion syndrome.”

Fear gripped him, and anger. It was the truth she was talking and every guy who ever played sports knew it, but it wasn’t something you talked about. Not while you were still young and in your prime. You didn’t even think it, not if you wanted to keep playing.

“Everything I’ve ever gotten,” he said a bit sharply, “was thanks to that constructed competition. Including this college education.”

“So use what it has given you.” She got on her skirt, reaching back to zip it up. “See what else there is out there for you.”

“You’re one to talk. All you ever do is sit in this library and stare at pictures of fossils. You never go out, never participate in anything outside of class. Your whole world is this damn Geek Retreat.”

Given the snide tone he’d used, he expected her to get angry back, but she just looked perplexed. Especially when she put her glasses on and gave him that “what species are you?” stare.

“Never mind,” he said, pushing up and releasing the hook from the door. “Thanks for the fuck, it was great. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

“Jet—” Liddy cried as he strode out, and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. She was still going over his words, stunned and trying to make sense of him when she heard his steps hurrying down the wooden stairs. Should she go after him?

She wanted to. She wanted to dash after, grab him and beg him to wait, to talk, but she felt frozen in place. Frozen and confused by his unexpected transformation. They’d had a wonderful time, talked of bones. He’d seemed so open and bright, and it felt like they were close to connecting, to really understanding each other. Then, out of the blue, he’d turned mean.

No, not out of the blue. Obviously, she’d said something wrong. Very wrong in her geeky way. God. She went cold inside. How mad had she made him? What if he no longer wanted to be friends? What if he never wanted to see her again?

She needed to figure out how she’d fucked up and how to make it right. How to apologize. If there was a way for someone like her to apologize to someone like him.

NOVEMBER

The sidewalks were thick with excited fans, their breaths misting in the frosty, November air. They shouted out to each other and to the cars that honked their horns and flashed their lights.

“WE’RE NUMBER ONE!”

Frat boys brayed the sentence, and waved flags featuring the school mascot while Sorority Sisters clapped and sung it.

Eight games down and they’d won seven. The coach, the college, everyone but Jarrett was elated.

“Top of the world!” Bobby crowed as they made their way to their favorite steakhouse. “God I feel great! Don’t you feel great?”

“Yeah.” Physically, Jarrett did. There was no workout as good as expending all that energy and aggression out on the field. It was an endorphin high followed by jubilation, a hot shower and a ravenous appetite.

Tonight, however, he was also depressed. It’d been over a week since his argument with Liddy and he had to admit that it was his own fault they hadn’t reconciled. He’d sulkily refused to take her calls or answer her e-mail. Yet when he’d looked up tonight to see her stadium seat vacant, it’d been like a punch in the gut.

“Thank God for Carl, huh?” Bobby nudged Jarrett as a group of fans jay-walked between honking cars chanting: “Del-a-rose! Del-a-rose!”

“Yeah, thank God.” The big divisions had overlooked Carl Delarose, and were likely kicking themselves for it now; the freshman was turning into a superstar. With every game, it became more evident. He moved like lightning and caught passes with ease. Carl was the team’s winning ticket and after this season, Delarose would be on everyone’s short list.

Jarrett couldn’t quite hold back his envy, or  fear. When he looked at Carl, he got a glimpse of his future, the feel of younger, more talented players at his heels, racing after him, racing past him.

Maybe...maybe Liddy had been right. He really didn’t want to end up washed out of football because he wasn’t the fittest to survive. He should e-mail her. Apologize. Fuck it. He missed her and he missed their talks about grand things like ice ages and supercontinents. He missed her physically, too, her body so warm and compact in his arms.

“Jet?” Bobby nudged him.

“Huh?”

“I said the town is ours, buddy.” He waved to a car of girls hanging out the windows, blowing kisses at them.

“I dunno if I’m up to celebrating tonight,” Jarrett demurred.

“Why? ’Cause your geek girl didn’t show?” Bobby scoffed. “Just as well. Come on, man, there are plenty of hot ladies ready to give you a night to remember.”

Jarrett paused under a streetlamp. That wasn’t anything he’d considered before. Liddy was probably with her Prehistory Anthropology Club arguing over teeth and skull ridges. Would he really rather be there than out dancing? Would she rather be out dancing than discussing bones? Thinking about it, Bobby had a point. Liddy was completely wrong for this environment, unsuited to his usual crowd and lifestyle.

Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t shown up tonight, as Jarrett couldn’t imagine inviting her along to celebrate with him and his friends at the steakhouse. Hell, the very idea made him uneasy.

And why was that?

“Jet! Bobby!” Some of the other guys were waiting under the awning of the restaurant. Bobby was already dashing through the crazy traffic to join them. Jarrett saw a break and jogged after.

People shouted, horns honked, headlights flashed…and blinded Jarrett. He heard the screech of tires, felt a sudden jarring pain through his leg and a hard push, as if he’d been tackled. And then the asphalt was under his body. He smelled tar and blood before the pain. Then he felt it, felt it screaming up and down his leg: a shattering vibration of agony. It was as loud and blindingly noisy as the shouts of the people around him, as the howling yells of his teammates now running his way.

Ah, shit
! he swore, feeling that excruciating pain in every bone. Extinct already.

Drifting again. They’d originally had him on a morphine drip and that had really fucked him up. Jarrett was off that now, but the regular painkillers still had him flowing back and forth in time.

“We used to have to wire and pin fragments together,”
he remembered a snatch of conversation from when he’d been brought in.
“But now we’ve a special adhesive. We fit the pieces back together like a jigsaw puzzle.”

His mind paused. Funny. Wasn’t that exactly what Liddy wanted to do? Spend her life gluing fragments of bone back together again?

“He’s young and healthy
,” the voice continued in his head.
“He’ll heal up just fine.”