Lullaby of Love (10 page)

. . . He’s there waiting. . .

I watch him for a minute.

One of the university mail carriers stops in front of the building and rolls his side door open, taking out two large plastic containers. I see Dane get up and go over to him, picking one of them up and talking as he walks beside him to the building. I step away from the window slightly, just enough where I won’t be seen.

. . . I think I have my answer.

dane

“Hi.”
Her voice comes from behind me.

I turn,
with every anticipation, aware to keep it together.
“Hi.”

“I had to take something inside, before we walk.”

“Sure. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought it’d be nice to walk down by the bell tower and pond. . . if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s okay. I like that part of the campus.”

“Me too.”

A bicyclist passes by, and it gives us each a moment’s distraction to walk comfortably.

I want to know so much about her and this thirty minute walk isn’t enough time to get to say a lot of things, especially delicately with her.

“Are you excited about your track meet?”
I’m entirely soft for a second, the thought that she took the initiative. . . my feelings swell
.

“
I am; it’s always a big event for both schools. Can I ask you something?
”

“
Yes,
” she allows without a change in her voice.

“
Are you from around here, the East?
” I guess it’s really asking two questions. . . where she lives, her family, and knowing most of the affluent families are somewhere along this coast—at least the ones at Ivy League universities anyway. . . does she come from one of them?

“I am, Virginia—Abingdon, Virginia.”
A sense of disappointment, and regrettably shame, washes over me. . . and the thought that I’m out of my league seems real, very real. I struggle with an immediate hurt, that I’m surprised at. The pause in me alerts her.
“Is your family here, in the East?”

“No. . .
no, they’re not
.
They’re in Kansas. I grew up in a small, rural town there. . . just my sister, my Mom, and me.”
I wait, not knowing anything more of what to think right now.

“I’ve never been to Kansas, but I like what I hear about the Midwest. Do you miss it?”
I can tell she has a sense of something in me. That was a lot for her to say.

“I do. Shay, I’m
here on a scholarship. . . there would’ve been no other way.”
The words come out before I think long on them. But there wouldn’t be any reason to encourage things—I wouldn’t feel right.

“Dane, I’m not from a wealthy family either.”
I’m sure something in me physical shifted as she said that, whether it was my breathing or the steadiness of my stride, and I wonder if she noticed. I couldn’t have helped it, the relief I feel. . . the way my thoughts are recovering. . .

I lightly brush the back of her hand with mine, ready to excuse myself if it’s unwelcome.

. . . Our fingers tenderly lace together.

shay

I check myself in the mirror, again. Only thirty minutes before I leave for the stadium. 1:00. Jenny should be showing up anytime. Everyone knows that the congestion around it, let alone the
non-existent
parking, makes it almost impossible to even get near it unless on foot, or someone
graciously
drops you off as close to it as they can get you. And that’s just what Jenny offered to do—come home, grab some lunch, and get me to the stadium on her way back to tutoring.

The least I could do for her driving around through the crowds all over campus visiting—who make a day of it parading through the history of Yale before an athletic event—was to have lunch ready for her here. And I had to laugh when her request came in the form of peanut butter bread,
Cheetos, and a banana. All of which I had on hand.

I break off two bananas from the bundle and grab a knife to spread the peanut butter. She insisted we eat in the car saying,
“Going 10 miles an hour along the ‘hoopla’, will be like a right picnic.”
And we neither had time to waste.

All of the food and two water bottles go into a drawstring bag, when I hear a horn honk outside the window. The nervous excitement in me tingles.
This is it.

I reach for the Dr. Seuss hat, committed to not hurt her feelings and coming to find that no matter how small I folded it with all of its buttons last night, I couldn’t get it into a size that would fit into a back pocket—which I never stick anything inside of. Having then happily conceded that’s it just part of the day, along with wearing my Yale Blue sweatshirt in the spirit of things, I’ll just keep it near during the event.

All ready.

By now there would’ve been a second honk if she thought I needed to speed up the pace getting to the car. It’s not the first taxi service we’ve given each other—you learn quickly not to get offended by the
urging on
to stay in motion with the rate of things—it becomes an appreciation, funnily so. And the thought of rushing to get outside, heightens the excitement in me even more.

dane

Other athletes trail throughout the wide tunnel that opens out into the stadium, where the bright sun is bending through. I slowly pace it, conscious to keep my limbs loose, rolling each shoulder, letting the ripple follow down through my hands, wiggling my fingers. She’ll be here in about five minutes.

I take a slow, deep breath in leaning back my neck, gauging my focus, turning for the last time at the mouth of the walkway to head back towards the small entrance to meet her. As I do, I become more aware of the gravity of people filling the arena. First time inviting a girl—and the stands will be
wired
.

I rub the small rectangle pass between my fingers and thumb, which now has a slight curve in it, and push against the metal bar on the door, stepping outside.

I gave Coach Malloy his pass during supper and told him about Shay. He had said he was glad I had someone else coming and looked forward to meeting her. Shay seemed alright with it too.

Whew.
The old, familiar butterflies are starting to kick off.

Don’t see her coming yet, but there are so many people it’s hard to pick anyone out.

I keep pacing in a small area in front of the door, just to keep nerves in check.

“Hi, Dane.”

I face back around to the crowds coming in and see her walking towards me. “
Hi
.” All of a sudden I feel ready to be on the track with her here now.
“Lots of people, did you get around okay?”

“Oh sure,”
she says with a smile.

God, it’s good to see her. “Here’s your pass, they’ll take it just like a regular ticket. Do you remember where to enter in at—the gate number?”

“23,”
she reassures me.
“First row, seats 9 and 10. Just like here on the ticket.”

“
Right. . . sure.”
I just want to touch her, lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

“Well, I should probably find my way to my seat and introduce myself.”

“Yeah, and I need to have a couple of minutes in the locker room.”
Our eyes connect for a moment.

“Good luck, Dane.”

“Thanks.”
I watch her walk away, trembly energy lighting off throughout me, and never wanting so much in my life to have a good performance as I do today.

shay

“
WELCOME
—STUDENTS, FAMILIES, AND FANS—TO YALE’S TRACK AND FIELD EVENT OF THE SEASON AS WE HOST HARVARD!”
A roar booms up from the stands as I walk in to find my seat.
“AND WELCOME TO HARVARD!”
The crowd is riotous with excitement!

I make my way down the concrete steps along with the others to get to the first row, and look across for my seat number. A pleasant looking older man notices me and smiles my way. I excuse myself getting around the fronts of people, making sure not to upset drinks sitting tucked near the undersides of seats. “Hi, you must be Coach Malloy,” I say immediately comfortable in his company. There’s a quality to his appearance that makes me think instantly of my dad.

“I am. And you must be Shay—nice to meet you.” He reaches and shakes my hand. There’s a good-all-over feeling about this day.

The jovial announcer comes on again directing our attention to the events about to commence in different parts of the arena. I look down at my program for the 100 meter and the 4 X 100 meter relay. Both races Dane will be running today. The two heats are somewhat isolated in the middle of the page, listing the 100 meter race to start at 2:00 followed by the 4 X 100 meter at 3:00. I know the big race is the 100 m, and from what the university paper said yesterday it seems that for the first time Harvard will prove to be competition for Dane. I feel tingly from pure, numb
delightment and thinking about it. I slide my soda down under my seat with the rest of the cups lined along our row. Only 40 minutes to his race.

dane

I shift position momentarily, leaning against the cool, concrete wall listening to the last words of Coach Lewis before we enter into the stadium, half taking-in what he’s saying.
I just have to keep focus—not let his pressure to perform get to me and do something stupid like false start—and not let knowing she’s in the stands do the same.
I finish my own pep talk about the same time he finishes his—whatever it is he’d call it.

“Bring it home Dane!” Mitch slaps my ass from behind.

“Yep—gonna try.” I look back over my shoulder at him as we make our way to the entrance out into the arena. He’s fourth man in the relay and probably the only other truly dedicated runner on the team.

Two more steps and the sun will be shining on my face and the full scope of charged anticipation will ring out for me to see.

“AND HERE THEY ARE—YOUR
YALE
ATHLETES!”
Over the uproarious cheering he one-by-one calls out our names as we make our way to the center—I hold a hand high, turning side-to-side acknowledging the packed stadium. I peer far over to the area where my seats are reserved and think I catch a flashing glimpse of Shay and Coach Malloy on their feet, clapping with the rest of them.

shay

The exhilaration of the events leading up to Dane’s has my heart racing at times and I find myself enthralled just the same as everyone else watching.

I sip the last bit of my soda and excuse myself to go find the restroom and stretch my legs for a minute. Dane’s race will begin shortly. You can already see officials milling about on the track lanes near the starting blocks, ready to give them a final looking over.

Luckily the restroom sign isn’t too far down the large, open arena hall from where I entered in at from our seating alcove.

In the excitement of things I nearly forgot about Dane’s invitation to walk me home. Jenny’s tutoring will keep her in the student union the rest of the afternoon, and as nervous about it as I am. . . I am glad he asked.

The light feeling in the top of my stomach and forehead bring back all of the uncertainties and fears of being close to him again, but I remind myself that that’s some time away and just to enjoy the races.

dane

I saw her walk up the stairs, as a couple of us moved across the grassy area to the edge of the track. I have a better view of her and Coach Malloy—only about forty feet from where I am. And when I take my place on the track, it’ll be halfway between us now and they’ll be able to see me closely. This is the first time I’ve had both of my seats taken for someone to be here watching me. The special section for athlete’s guests is always filled. The cost to get a first row seat anywhere else in the stadium is hefty and I usually end up giving my tickets to anyone who asks.

I want to perform for her. Today’s for her.

I put my hands on my hips shifting them subtly, keeping centered.

The officials are talking among themselves. The Harvard guys are clustered together a short distance away sizing things up—
me
—no doubt.

shay

“. . . IN LANE 3:
HARVARD’S—TRACE—CAPPELLETTI!
. . .”
Cheers
boom
into the air—rivaling Yale’s antagonistic bursts of—
“Who are ya?!—Who are ya?!”
“. . . IN LANE 5—
YALE’S!
—
DANE—MONTGOMERY!
. . .”
The stadium
erupts
absolutely wild with applause! I smooth a few tousled strands of hair skimming across my forehead from the light breeze and tuck them behind my ear. I wouldn’t even want a glimmer of trying to see what is about to happen be out of focus. My whole body feels sensationally light but frozen in place, and yet so alive at the same time—it’s a whole different kind of nervousness. I cup my hands together by the tips of my fingers, squeezing them.
Come on Dane.
Coach Malloy looks steady and reserved as I catch a glimpse of him peripherally.

“
RUNNERS
—BY YOUR BLOCKS!”
The massive crowd grows quiet.
Oh God.
The runners lower into starting position—a gun raises high—
the SHOT rings out!

40,000 people go nuts!

“Go Dane!” I surprise myself.

Trace is nearing him.
“GO DANE—GO!” I’m on my tiptoes—leaning against the railing.
His stride bolts
—Trace can’t catch up!

FINISH LINE!

A roar rises up from the stadium!
The crowd is electric!
Thundering feet stomp the Yale chant—dominating the sound! Goose pimples flash to the surface over my entire body! “Ahh!” I’m clapping and jumping. Dane slows down to a walk-jog and turns to the crowd waving high.
The stands go mental!
Swinging Yale Blue towels, clackers, and vuvuzelas
explode
in celebration!

. . . My eyes are wet.

I’ve never known so much exhilaration.

dane

My chest is pounding—Trace gave it a good run. My appreciative smile sticks as I wave at the crowd and make my way back up and around the bend of the track.

Mitch comes over with teammates and rubs my wet head and passes me a cup of water that I sit down on the grass as I bend and rest my palms on my knees, scaling down my breathing.

I take a drink and pass the cup off, making my way across the track lanes, still to the cheering, to Coach Malloy and Shay.

Coach Malloy’s satisfied expression as I get nearer makes the good-old emotions rise up—it’s all happened because of him—even this day, for her.

She looks beautiful.

I reach my hands over the railing to her, actions coming faster than words. She takes them instinctively and I lean to her, and kiss her on the cheek.

shay

The sweetness of his breath whispering past my cheek and ear as his soft, sure lips warmly grace my skin, makes my stomach feel like a thousand dainty butterflies swirled into flight.

The motion was
fast. . . the excitement in the air. I bend my head slightly; the warmth in my cheeks making them change color I’m sure. And with the coach standing here beside me and thousands of people following Dane’s every move. . .

“Good job Dane! Good job son!” Coach Malloy reaches across the minimal barrier and shakes his hand, patting firmly his same shoulder with the other hand.

“Thanks coach.” The fixed satisfaction in Dane’s eyes as I quietly look over tells me how much all of this means to him, to his coach. . .
to me watching it
. And for the first time, I feel myself. . .
falling
. . . my emotions taking me, guiding me to something I’ve feared for so long. . . Dane turns his gaze to me and sees it; I don’t deny him. I slowly lower my head again.

“Have fun with that relay!” Coach Malloy offers up in celebration. Dane smiles, looking over at me, taking a step back, turning and walking across to his teammates.

dane

I
fold my lips in as I make my way back, savoring the sensation that passed through them. My smile forming slowly, subtly, into something more meaningful than the race I just won.

“Good race, Dane,” a voice comes from behind me. I face around to see Trace.

“You too, Trace.” I reach out and shake his hand. We’ll be meeting up again in less than an hour for our relay. He put his all into it, but odds are he was Harvard’s one component to defeat us in the relay also, if the day was going to play out that way.

I make my way to the tunnel opening with a couple of the other guys, to get into the locker room and have a little rest time before preparing for the next heat.

shay

Watching Dane and his teammates win the relay against Harvard was almost as exciting for me as him winning his race earlier, and the feeling of euphoria deep within, will linger for days at just the thought of this afternoon.

As I follow behind Coach Malloy getting through the crowd of people exiting the stadium, I think of what Dane had said on our walk, about living with only his mom and sister, never mentioning his dad, and for a moment I feel overwhelming gratitude for this kind man who has guided him.

People finally start to thin enough where we can walk alongside each other over to the area leading to the athlete’s entrance, although the loudness doesn’t clear away much for us to really say anything yet. And when it does, I’ll let him be the one to speak first. I’m sure today brings back a lot of memories and emotions, and leaving him to his thoughts for now seems only right.

In the distance the side door opens and a few athletes begin trailing out, showered and changed into regular clothing, toting duffel bags. We stop before we get too near, not to get in the way of people leaving.

“Shay, it was sure nice to meet you today.” Coach Malloy extends his hand, laying his other one over the top of mine and lightly patting.

“I’m so glad to have met you too.” His warm embrace this afternoon and genuine regard for Dane, just reaffirms all of the little tremors of curiosity that have consumed me this week. . .
Dane is different
,
special
. . .
and somehow
. . .
he noticed me
. . .

“Are you alright?” The words come into my thoughts securing my focus. “It was a pretty bright sun to sit in all afternoon,” he adds, making sure I’m okay.

“Yes, yes I’m fine, thank you,” I say, smiling reassuringly. I don’t know if it’s my place or not, I’m almost sure it isn’t, but if feels right and to not say anything, I feel I’ll regret it if I let the moment pass. “Coach Malloy, thank you for being here for Dane today.”

dane

The two of them standing there makes me happy—can’t explain it; everything just seems right.

I swing my bag strap over my shoulder and say a few goodbyes to the runners coming out behind me, and let the door fall closed.

“Here’s our man of the hour.” Coach reaches up and squeezes the side of my arm. “How are ya feeling?”

I cast my eyes down smiling. “Good, good.”

“You looked great out there—keeping on top of things. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks coach.”

“Next out Princeton then,” he says.

“Yep.
I’ll be ready.” He’s great, best man I’ve ever known—having him meet Shay means something to me. No doubt though, he’s keen to my slight uneasiness right now.

“Well, I’ll head on back to the hotel. Still up for supper later on?” he asks, hinting if plans have changed since we arranged it.