Fallout (11 page)

I NOTICE HER MOM AND DAD

Watching us. Standing

a couple of feet apart,

as if they want nothing

to do with each other.

And I remember. “So,

are your parents back

together?” I know her

answer before she says,

Not really. He claims

he wants to come home
,

but he still wants to work

with … with
her.

His boss. And maybe

the woman he loves

more than he loves

his wife and daughter.

There’s a big alumni

party today. They only

came together to keep up

appearances.
She starts

to tear up again, and

I pull her into my arms.

Kiss her forehead softly.

“It will all work out. I promise.”

WHY DO I PROMISE

Shit like that?

Then again, it

will

all work out.

Just not necessarily

the way she wants

it

to. I look at her

mom, rigid as iron,

suspicion written

all

over her face. And

why not? Her husband

has blatantly

come out

about falling for

someone else. Why

would she want him

back, anyway?

In the

final analysis, their

marriage will forever

be stained. In the long

run, stay or go, it’s a

wash.

IN MY ARMS

Nikki sways, relaxes

just the slightest bit.

I take the opportunity

to repeat, “I love you.”

Love you, too.
Her whisper

is shaky, like aspen leaves

in a bold autumn breeze.

They’re waiting for me.

“I know. But I’ll see you later,

right?” Her answer is slow

coming. Finally she gives

me a lukewarm,
I guess so.

We turn back toward the X

lunch line. My groupies, thank

God, have wandered off.

Nikki’s mom watches us

with relentless eyes, unlike

her dad, who is focused on Montana.

That fact does not escape

Nikki.
God. He’s such a dog.

HE DOES KIND OF LOOK

Like one—a basset hound,

maybe, or a cocker spaniel.

A dog with dopey eyes.

Nikki pulls away from me,

pushes between her parents,

forms a three-link chain.

They start toward the gate

just as the cannon fires,

signaling first kickoff.

Hot dogs in hand, the X fans

disperse, leaving Montana

and me to watch the stragglers.

After a while, Montana turns

to me.
Pretty girlfriend
, she says.

You two serious, or what?

Without my telling them to,

my shoulders hunch into a shrug.

“We’re not, like, getting married

or anything. But I like her a lot.”

Her question was out of left field,

my answer bordering on evasive.

Looked more like love to me.

Meaning, I guess, that she was looking.

Mind if I give you a little advice?

Advice? Who does she think

she is? Dr. Phil in drag? But

what the hell. “Uh, guess not.”

Radio is entertainment, or should

be, anyway. Your jock persona

should feel real to your listeners.

But never forget that it’s fabricated
,

created in the name of entertainment.

Once you start thinking it’s real
,

start taking the fake you too seriously
,

the truly important things in your

life will vanish. Believe me, I know.

I do believe her. But why?

Montana is schlock to the
n
th

degree. “Do you want to elaborate?”

Her smile, sad, makes her pretty.

Maybe someday. For now, I’ll

just say I used to be married.

MARRIED?

Hard to believe.

Divorced?

Even harder.

She’s either

older

than she looks,

or she’s lived

faster

than most.

Probably the latter.

But why do I think

that? To be

honest,

I don’t know her at all.

She could be PhD

smart,

might trump Rick Denio

when it comes to being

witty.

If I dug deep enough

beneath the facade,

who

would I find? Is Corrine

standing beside me? Or

is she

really Montana?

AS I PACK UP THE VAN

I think back to when

I was a kid, trying too

hard to be “just like

everyone else,” when

I felt totally different.

Not an outcast, exactly.

Just different. I tried

so hard to look normal

that everybody noticed.

And bullies pounced.

I entered public school

late to the game, after

a couple of years

of parochial torture.

So I didn’t start third

grade with solid buddies

to back me up. When

someone picked on me,

I crumbled at first. Then,

when I got tired of it,

I learned to push back.

Being about the biggest

kid in my class helped.

But I never wanted to

fight. I wanted friends.

MAYBE CORRINE

Just wanted friends,

and that’s why she turned

into Montana. Maybe she

wanted revenge. Wonder

why her marriage sank.

Stupid question. No way

were people meant to be

monogamous. Not human

behavior. Human behavior

of the nonmonogamous

type is all around me here.

Guys smooching on girls,

obviously “their” girls, yet

checking out other girls

walking by. Girls aren’t

a whole lot better, and this

is only the “checking” out

stuff. The actually “doing”

stuff behind each other’s

backs is almost as bad.