Authors: Jenn Cooksey
“Shit, I gotta run, Babe! I love you!”
“I love you too! One more day!”
“Yep! One more day!”
*****
A couple hours later and with my graduation dress in a garment bag draped over her arm; my grandma heads home and I go to meet a friend for lunch and a movie. We’ve just finished throwing our trash away in the food court and are entering the theater when Destiny elbows me in the ribs.
“Hey, I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go grab his ass,” she dares me, staring at a guy who judging from the little bit of drool forming in the corner of her mouth, has to be Cole.
She’s always staring at Cole and drooling. Actually, a lot of girls stare and drool over Cole. He’s bending over to put a clean garbage bag in one of the trashcans by the concession stand, his black, Dickies pants slipping down and both his un-tucked work tuxedo shirt and ribbed tank undershirt riding up just far enough for us to see a dark tan line above the waistband of his boxers. I swallow my laughter at recognizing a couple of Batman graphics on the fabric covering the elastic.
“I’m not grabbing his butt or anything else of his! I have Holden,
remember
?”
“Mm-mm-mm,” she shakes her head and licks her lips like she’s looking at dinner, “Yeah, I know, but you have to admit it, that guy has one
fine
ass…for a white boy.”
I shrug, deciding to not waste my breath informing her yet again that she happens to be white too. Ever since she was channel surfing one day and caught a re-run of the episode of
Days of Our Lives
where Nathan Owens does a strip tease, she’s been in this “once you go black, you never go back” phase. That’s her phrasing by the way, not mine. Shaking my head at her, I look at Cole again just as he stands up and turns around to catch us watching him. I roll my eyes when he winks and shoots me a cocky grin before heading our way.
“It’s okay, go ahead and stare, I know you want me. But good grief, sugar, your appetite is insatiable,” he teases and gives his watch a cursory glance, “I mean it’s only been what? Four hours since we got it on in my car?”
“You’re a pig, Cole…an impossible menace to society and I have better taste than that,” I tell him and then feel Destiny gently nudge the back of my elbow.
“Hi, Cole,” Destiny greets him with a flirtatious smile.
“Oh, you remember Destiny from school, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do,” he grins back at her, the liar. One look at his overly amused expression and I know he doesn’t have a clue as to who she is. “You, uh, have a little something
right
…” Cole tells her and gestures with his finger to the visible drop of glistening saliva that’s traveled down a short distance from the corner of her mouth.
Rather than blushing or being mortified, Destiny raises one eyebrow and runs her tongue along her bottom lip. She tries to make it look sexy or inviting, but she pretty much just looks like a little kid trying to get all the ice cream off her face after making a mess of eating it. Cole’s lips just barely quirk and I inwardly roll my eyes.
“So what are you guys seeing?” he asks, moving to stand right next to Destiny in order to look at the flashing NOW PLAYING marquee with us, or to fluster her even more. You never know with Cole.
“We haven’t decided yet,” I answer and frown at his profile for a quick moment, “Hey, Cole? You wanna come with me to pick Holden up from the airport tomorrow?”
“What time?”
“His flight lands at 6:43 in the morning. I know he’d really love to see you.”
He looks over Destiny’s head at me and makes a clucking sound with his tongue. And with that, I know what the answer will be before he ever speaks. “I would, but I have to be at the golf course at the ass-crack of dawn…first foursome is set to go off at like 5:35 I think. Maybe you guys can swing by the club for breakfast or something though.”
“Yeah, maybe…”
“Oh, hey, what time is it?” he asks, grabbing Destiny’s wrist to look at her rhinestone bejeweled watch instead of his own barebones one, “Sweet! It’s quittin’ time! Or, you know, time for me to drive across town so I can clock in at Walmart. Enjoy your movie!”
Destiny and I both wave and watch him take off towards an employee’s only door. She sighs when he takes his bow tie off and then his tuxedo shirt, leaving him in the tight-fitted tank undershirt. I roll my eyes and use my own hand to wipe the saliva from her chin this time before turning to stare up at the movie selections again.
Two minutes don’t pass before Destiny is nudging me again and whispering in my ear. “Cole is staring at you…”
“No, he’s not,” I tell her without even looking to see if he is or not, “He’s probably staring at you.”
“Uh, no, he’s totally watching you.”
I glance over to where he’s talking to another theater employee. He is actually looking at me. When I raise my eyebrows in question though, he grins and blows me a kiss. I can’t help it; I blow him one back and then laugh when he catches it and holds it to his heart with a big, overly dramatic sigh and look of joy on his face.
“I know he’s supposedly Holden’s best friend and all, but I think he likes you,” Destiny tells me with raised brows, like she’s either intrigued or warning me—I’m not sure which.
“He so doesn’t like me, Destiny. Not like that anyway. That’s just Cole. He’s one giant,
ridiculous
tease…always has been, always will be,” I say, shaking my head and smiling at Cole as he winks at me again on his way out of the theater. Then I mumble to myself, “Besides, I secretly think he’s gay.”
Honestly, I’ve known him for like
ever
and I know a ton of girls in addition to my drooling friend here have crushes on him, and he has a certain reputation too; his habit of casually kissing girls on the cheek or head no doubt contributes to it. However, sometimes I wonder if those girls have made things up and convinced themselves of his exploits in the hopes that they’ll have a chance to be one of them, because I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him do anything with a girl outside of holding hands or taking part in a few public displays of affection in the form of some minor kissing at parties. So from my knowledge, that reputation of his is all based on rumors and hearsay.
She starts cracking up. “Oh my God, Erica, you’re high! Cole Hastings is
sooo
not gay! He’s a total player! You know, I heard he hooked up with Becca Gibson not more than ten minutes after he dropped Hannah Dunlop off from their date after his shift here that same night, during which I
also
heard he got her to go down on him in the theater,” she rambles, “Ew…now I don’t know if I wanna see a movie here or not. That’s kinda gross, not knowing if we’re sitting in the same seats where some guy’s man milk was spit out, even if it was Cole’s.”
My jaw drops. “Really, Destiny? My grandma comes to this theater!”
She simply looks at me innocently and says, “Well, you should warn her then. I heard Becca swallows, but Hannah is a renowned spitter.”
I throw my hands up in resignation and start shaking my head as I turn to leave.
“What? I thought we were gonna see a movie!”
Pushing through the doors to go back into the mall, I call over my shoulder, “Nope, I’m waiting for DVD from now on.”
“Why?”
she asks, catching up with me.
I turn to stare at her. “Why?” She nods and gives me a confused, quizzical look. “Becau—” I start to explain when someone bumps into me from behind in their rush to get over to the center of the food court where five, big, flat screen TVs are hung in a circle from the ceiling.
“What the hell is going on?” Destiny asks when we’re both pushed as more people rush by.
I look around and finally realize there’s a flurry of excitement and people are all either jogging to get close enough to be able to hear the TVs, or stopped dead in their tracks looking at them. “No idea…zombie apocalypse?” I joke, “Might as well go see what the fuss is about,” I say and begin walking over to where everyone else seems to be gathering.
“Okay, but just FYI, I’m totally tripping you if the hungry horde has finally descended upon humankind,” she laughs and skips ahead, disappearing into the growing crowd as I try to follow her and keep up.
I’m pushed and shoved some more, but I finally manage to find Destiny in the melee under the TVs. She’s standing with Cole and I find myself shaking my head and rolling my eyes at her yet again when she looks up into his face and clutches one of his arms with both hands. She looks aghast and I determine right here and now that I need to sit her down and either teach her how to flirt and not look stupid doing it, or just beg her to give the whole thing up altogether. I don’t even notice that the arm she’s clinging to is bent so that Cole’s hand is covering his mouth. Not until they both turn and see me standing here do I realize that Cole has tears in his eyes and that Destiny is sobbing. Confused, I hesitantly raise my eyes to see the breaking news banner float across the bottom of one of the television screens, and just as I begin to feel my knees buckle and my vision start to swim, I see Holden’s face pictured and I hear part of the news report.
The last thing I clearly remember before the earth fell out from under me was looking at Cole and seeing his eyes widen as he jumped towards me. Then, there was nothing.
3
—Cole—
“It’s been eight days since a shadow was cast over the streets and storefronts of Sun City, a small suburb of Menifee located in Riverside County. A local boy attending the University of Oregon on a full athletic scholarship collapsed and died on a football field there early Saturday afternoon during a routine team training last week. Larry Michaels from our News 8 sister station is on location now…Larry? This is such a tragedy, can you tell those of us here anything about what happened?”
“Yeah, Howard, it’s still unclear what exactly happened last Saturday at the Oregon Ducks’ 68 million dollar, state of the art football training center here in Eugene, and what caused the sudden collapse and death of twenty-year-old Holden St. James that took place on one of the three practice fields is still a mystery. Although drug use hadn’t been officially ruled out at the time, team physicians and coaches went on record later that evening to say that neither legal nor illegal drugs will be found to have contributed to their player’s collapse or death. Teammates and other students are baffled as well.
“A likable and seemingly well known face on campus, St. James had just finished his freshman year and coming off a Ducks’ win in the Fiesta Bowl, he was in training with the rest of the program and looking forward to another winning season in his second year of playing football for the University of Oregon. He was thought to be in perfect health. Authorities released Holden’s body to his family after an autopsy was completed and although the results haven’t been released to the public at this time, it’s been rumored that highly caffeinated energy drinks may have played a part in the untimely and tragic death of St. James. A candlelight vigil and memorial for the public is scheduled here at Ducks Stadium tonight at eight o’clock with funeral services in Sun City to remain private, only family and close friends will be in attendance.”
Private. Yeah, right.
Still sitting in the line of cars waiting to turn, I stare across the street to the high school and the three-ring circus the media has turned Holden’s funeral into. Shaking my head and simultaneously pitching my dead smoke out the window, I click off the radio in disgust, hoping to God that was the last time I’ll have to hear the same recycled information. I mean why do news stations refurbish their stories like that? Why can’t they just say, “Yeah, we don’t have anything new to tell you, but in case you missed it, we’ll do an in a nutshell recap for you… A college kid died. That’s it. And oh yeah, his school is remembering him at such and such time, and his only living family and close friends would like to bury him in peace, so just back your shit up and don’t bug ‘em, m’kay?”
Really, if only…
Sighing, I try once more to tell myself that it would be the epitome of a dick move to bail out on attending what was supposed to be an intimate gathering of family and friends who actually
knew
Holden. And you know, you’d think that would be easy, but actually, I’m having a really hard time coming up with something to convince myself of doing anything other than finding the nearest TV camera and telling everyone watching at home to go fuck themselves for turning into scavengers and feeding off of Mr. and Mrs. St. James and the devastating loss of their only child like they’re fucking carrion. Honestly, this whole funeral thing has spiraled completely out of control and I know for a fact that if he had a choice, Holden wouldn’t want to be here either. Actually, I bet he’d be doing goddamned summersaults in his grave by now if he hadn’t been cremated.
His urn along with a few pictures showcasing who he was—a son, friend, athlete…stuff like that—was originally going to be the focus and at the center of his memorial service, with a handful of those of us who wanted to share memories, stories, and anecdotes about him. Then the mayor of our precious, little town and the principal of the high school got involved. They started out by encouraging Holden’s parents to move the location of the service from the small church where they were hit or miss service attendees to the high school where there’d be air conditioning and, of course, adequate seating. They seem to think that the community who supposedly loved and supported Holden most of his life is entitled to show his parents—his only real remaining family—support by coming out in faceless droves to say their goodbyes with the rest of us. I don’t know if because Holden’s parents were from Europe and he only met his grandparents and a small handful of cousins on his mom’s side once when he was a really little kid that contributed to that thinking; however it’s not like Holden was an orphan or someone living in a community that holds dear and exemplifies the motto “it takes a village to raise a child” for Christ’s sake.