Frank Downey - Dance of a lifetime

"It’s not that. It’s that you're throwing the life jacket, and because of some strange instinct I’m ducking.

Or I’m notducking and it’s hitting me in the head. Or going right through my legs so I look like Jose freakin’ Offerman and his bad knee trying to scoop a grounder at second."

"Didn’t know you were a baseball fan."

"Big time. I bleed Red Sox red. Any guy I marry has to agree to name our first son Nomar."

Warren laughed out loud. "You can marry me, then, Soph. I’ll go right along with that one."

Sophie couldn’t help but giggle. "You’re on. Paint that life jacket red, would you?"

Warren sat for a minute. "OK, Soph. I’m trying to help. This is the first time I ever remember you askingfor help. What do I do?"

Sophia thought about that one for a bit. "Warren, that’s a good question. I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not accustomed to asking for help. I really don’t know. Just be there, would you?"

"Already am."

"I know. It does help. Good friends are hard to come by."

"Listen, Soph. I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again: you need to dump Scott."

Sophia giggled. "What, and leave the field free for you, right? Scott doesn’t like Nomar, so I suppose I should."

"Sophia, I’m being serious."

"I know, I know. I’m scared. I’m scared to end it, I’m scared notto end it." She paused, and said in a small voice, "I don’t want to be alone."

"You’re not. You got me, remember?"

"Don’t get me wrong, Warren, because I’ve come to appreciate your friendship more than I can say, but I wasn’t talking about friendship. Scott loves me."

"Whatever you say."

"He does. He has trouble expressing it sometimes, and it comes out as anger, but he does."

"He tells you he loves you?"

"He’s not verbal in that way."

"He treatsyou like he loves you?"

"When he wants to."

"Oh."

"Listen, Warren, the problem is not Scott."

"You’re right. But he’s part of the problem. And when you figure out the mainproblem, you’ll realize that he’s useless."

"OK, Doctor Freud, what’s my main problem?"

"You said it yourself, earlier."

"What did I say?"

"You said-shitty boyfriend, shitty this, shitty that…shitty Sophia. Except you had it the other way around. Everything else is shitty because Sophia is shitty. The problem is, Sophia is notshitty. She just thinks she is."

Sophia thought about that for a couple of minutes. Then she spoke again: "Warren, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You ever been in love?"

"Are we including unrequited worship of girls who wouldn’t go out with me if their lives depended on it because I’m Prep Boy, or are we sticking to actual relationships?"

Sophia giggled. "The actual relationships one."

"No."

"Does that bother you?"

"To a point. But not a lot."

"To what point, and why not a lot?"

"Well, to the point that I get lonely too, you know? I also get tired of rejection. The not a lot part is because I figure it’ll happen sooner or later. No sense rushing it."

Sophia paused for a moment. "If you werein love, how would you treat her?"

"Well, Soph, how do I treat you?"

"Pretty much like a princess."

"Well, there’s your answer, then."

"But we’re just friends. You’re not in love with me or anything, are you?"

"Soph, if I’m in love with someone, wouldn’t you think I’d treat them at leastas well as I treat my friends?"

"Not from my experience, no. Most guys I know alwaystreat their friends better than their girlfriends.

You’re way too sweet."

Warren sighed in mock exasperation, "And I’mthe one who can’t get a date! There’s no justice in this world, I tell ya."

Sophie laughed softly. "Sooner or later someone will appreciate you."

"Yeah. Hopefully before I’m dead."

"Trust me. Listen, I have to go. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Oh, and your task for tonight is to repeat to yourself ‘Sophia is not shitty’ until you fall asleep, or start believing it, whichever comes first."

"Aye aye, sir. I’ll give it the ol’ college try."

"You do that."

That was the conversation Sophia kept replaying in her mind. They had more, over the next week and a half-their newly discovered mutual adoration of the Red Sox led to lots of free-agent-signing wishes and an entire evening waxing rhapsodic over the majesty that is Pedro Martinez-but that conversation was the one she kept thinking about.

He had held her up as an example of how he would treat someone he was in love with. She asked him point-blank if he was in love with her, and he avoided the question. He jokingly asked her to marry him-yeah, it was a joke, but with the rest of the conversation…and he told her that she wasn’t alone, because she had him.

It was inescapable. Coupled with the attention he showered on her, how he treated her, some of the things he said to her-it was inescapable. Warren Kelleher was in love with her, she realized one day.

The first question she asked herself was why? Why her? This was Warren, the Prep Boy scholarship genius, why the hellwould he want to have any kind of anythingwith a lost cause like her?

Because hedoesn’t think you’re a lost cause, she said to herself.

And as thatone hung in her brain, the next question popped up-OK, Sophia, what do you doabout it?

It almost didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem fair that they had become such close friends-if Warren hadfallen for her, he must be in a "so near but yet so far" loop all the time.

But he didn’t seem to mind.

Sophia sighed. This all could wait. It was the weekend, and there were parties to go to, and Scott.

And why did she not feel like going this weekend?

Monday arrived, and with it another afternoon shift at Dunkin’ Donuts. Warren had come to look forward to Mondays, because he got to see Sophia.

He walked into the back room, saw her standing there with her back to him, and walked up to her and touched her on the shoulder. And felt her flinch, hard.

"OH! Warren."

"What was thatall about?"

"I’ll tell you later", and she turned around. And Warren looked into her face and saw someone who looked like they had just emerged from hell.

"Soph, you do notlook good."

"Later, Warren. I promise. This is not the time or place."

"Whatever you say."

The shift passed with barely a word between them. At quitting time, Sophia walked up to Warren, and said, "Walk me home, please?"

They started walking. Warren was uncomfortable, because they were walking in silence, which neverhappened.

"What’s up, Sophia?"

"When we get to my house."

"Oh-kaaaay."

They got to her house. "Come on in. Nobody’s home. Mom is at work, and the kids are with their father."

Sophia had explained that her brother and sister had a different father-her Mom’s second husband-and that they often spent time with him. Sophia’s father had disappeared when she was three.

Warren had never actually been in Sophia’s house. She showed him in and led him to the living room, shedding her coat as she walked. She looked like she wanted to scream, and was holding it in. Something was seriously wrong, and Warren had no idea what.

"I need to show you something," Sophia said. And proceeded to take off her shirt. Warren was completely dumbstruck-until he saw the bandages. She peeled those off, and stood in front of him naked from the waist up.