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“Isn’t that who you still are?”
“Tough to tell. ”
He’d locked his jaw, a sure sign—if he’d been sixteen—that he was about to storm off to play ball with his friends instead of answering questions any longer. Abe never yelled—never got mad—but the few times his mom kept pushing at him after his jaw locked and he couldn’t escape, he went mute instead, like someone had thrown away the key.
But he wasn’t going to keep me out. “I think you are. I think some parts of you are different, because we grow up, but you’re really who you always were. ”
He slid me a glance. “And who’s that?”
I smiled at him. “Someone good. ”
He looked struck, like I’d tossed something at his chest, but nothing bad, just surprising. Like my words were unexpected, though they couldn’t have been.
“And what about you?” he asked. “How have you changed?”
I shrugged, lighter now than I had been before. “Not much. I’m just more me, I think. I’ve filed away all those extra edges that were my attempts to please other people and make myself more likeable and be who I thought I was supposed to be. Now I’m finding out who I am. ”
“I hope you never did that with me. ”
“I never needed to. ”
A silence stretched between us, a silence that shimmered, and he stepped forward. My heartbeat sped up. How odd, to feel like Abraham really saw me, now, after all these years. And to wonder if maybe, just maybe. . .
My phone beeped. Tanya, wanting me at her side, pronto. I raised it apologetically. “I should get going. ”
We stood there in silence, and then he smiled at me with such brightness that my breath quickened. “So I guess I’ll see you around. ”
Oh boy, I was in trouble. My mouth curved up in a smile I couldn’t contain. “Guess you will. ”
Chapter Seven
Four days later, we returned to the Stadium for the fifth game of the regular season.
Emotion ruled football. That was why clubs juggled coaches and players each year, why the teams that lost had their pick of the best players in the next year’s draft. The organization was designed to keep the playing field “even” but that wasn’t about promoting a better game—some even said it took away from the best possible play. It was about capturing the emotion of people across the country and keeping them enthused, keeping them invested, in the belief that their team could win on any given Sunday.
Some games fans wait for all season. The Leopards versus Ann Arbor Bisons match always sold out weeks in advance; the rivalry between those two teams was thick enough to taste. People anticipated it all year round, and to some, it was the only game that really counted. The Leopards could lose the Super Bowl as long as they beat the Bisons.
Abe played defense. He was good—the kind of good you hardly even recognized until the ball disappeared from the offense and it took a confused heartbeat to realize Abe had it. Abe got into the offense’s heads without people even realizing mind games were in his repertoire. He just acted so straightforward and chill off the field; so certain, so steady, that it was hard for anyone—even the opposing team—not to believe whatever Abraham believed. And if that was that Abe would block the offense, then Abe would block the offense.
For Abe the words that came up time and again were driven. Versatile. Clever.
It was even stranger now, watching Abe run around on the field. I’d seen him play in high school and college, but I’d never attended any of his pro games. He looked like a god; he was a god to thousands of young kids all over the country. And a role model to some, because with less than ten Jews in the NFL—well, kind of a big deal.
He’d improved in his four years with the Leopards, and he’d already been named Rookie of the Year in his first. A lot of people talked about how lots of game strategy was moving away from center linebackers, but Abraham made strategists reconsider that.
I didn’t see him when we went down to the locker room after the game, and instead ended up interviewing several of the other guys on their predictions on next week’s game and opinion on this one. I’d just wrapped up my last question and was headed out when I heard my name in that familiar, warm baritone. “Hey, Tamar!”
I stilled slowly, and then turned to see Abe half-bouncing on his toes from leftover adrenaline. His hair was still wet from a fast post-game shower, and he’d slung a casual sports jacket on over his dark jeans. He grinned at me, practically radiating exuberance. “Good game, huh?”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “It was. . . tolerable. ”
He groaned and shook his head. “You’re trying to break my heart, aren’t you?”
“I’m keeping you grounded. ”
“Too late, I’m flying. ” He swooped me up in his arms and took us in an impromptu turn around the room.
When he stopped I nearly died from laughter, and had to bend up to subdue to cramps in my stomach. “What was that, a jig or a waltz?”
He frowned at me. “God, Tammy, don’t you know anything? It was a waltz. ”
I managed to right myself. “How silly of me. But then, I never made it to advanced dance classes. ”
“Ah, now it all makes sense. Where for me, those classes were second only to football. ”
“So that’s why your mom was always making you go to English—extra help. ”
“Hey, you don’t get to talk. Pretty sure I spent a year of Fridays helping you with your science homework. ”
My phone pinged again, just as it had last time I was here. I glanced at it, and made a face when I saw Tanya’s name “Sorry. Duty calls. ”
Abraham looked put out. “Why don’t you just interview me?”
A smile broke over my face. “I’m going to take you up on that, one of these days. See you. ”
I’d barely gone two feet when his familiar tones called me back. “Hey, Tamar. ”
I turned back.
His previous levity had been replaced by a bright earnestness. “Let’s get drinks tomorrow. ”
Drinks. With Abraham Krasner. I tilted my head. “On a Monday night?”
He shrugged. “My Monday’s your Friday. ”
True enough; most NFL teams had Tuesdays off. “Yeah, but it’s still my Monday. ”
“Come on. I’ll take you to a beatnik-themed bar. ”
He knew I had a weakness for literary themes, though he’d always been the one who went gaga over Kerouac, not me. Still—”You don’t have to do this, you know. ”
“What?”
“You know, take care of the girl-next-door in the big-bad-city. Be nice to me because of our moms. That’s why you’re showing me around, right?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Maybe I just want to take you out for drinks. ”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “Okay, Abe. ”
After another long moment, he relented. “Does that mean you’ll meet me tomorrow?”
A smile tugged at my lips. It was fun, having the upper hand with him. “Seven o’clock. I’ll meet you there. ”
He raised his brows. “I haven’t told you the bar’s name yet. ”
True. “That does spoil my dramatic exit. ”