Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

She’s pushing her pie around on her plate with her fork, and I want so much to lean over and take her face in my hands so I can kiss her. Make her feel better. Because whatever happened, I can tell she’s hurting. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit it, maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, and yeah, maybe she wants to forget it ever happened, whatever “it” is. But I see it in her eyes — she’s having a hard time.

“You know, Benny said something to me recently,” I tell her. “He said we gotta take the bad stuff with the good. That it’s just how life is. If you think about it, no one has it good all the time. You don’t, I don’t, Benny certainly doesn’t. So maybe we have to just hold on and believe that eventually good stuff will come out of the bad stuff. Somehow. Some way.”

She tilts her head just a little. Her eyes narrow. It’s like she’s studying me. “Do you think something good will come out of Benny getting hurt?”

I think of all the people, an entire town, coming together to help one guy.

I think of Lauren and me, sitting here, talking and eating pie together.

I think of Benny. Everything he’s been through. His unknown future.

“If I want to get out of bed every morning, I have to believe something good will come of it.”

I pick up my plate and take a bite of the pie Lauren and I made together last night.

“And who knows,” I add. “Maybe something already has.”

“I wish it’d been me,” I tell her.

Her head shoots up, like a rocket, eyes glaring at me. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though. Football might have been Benny’s ticket to college. I know I’m supposed to think positive. I’m supposed to believe that he can come out of this better and stronger than before. And I’m trying, Lauren. I’m really trying. But if it’d been me, I wouldn’t miss football that much.” I swallow. “But with Benny, it’s, like, all he thinks about.”

She sets her pie down and gets to her feet. She goes to the railing and stands there, looking out toward the soccer field. “You just said you have to believe something good will come out of it. Maybe something will. For Benny, I mean. We don’t know. Maybe he’ll meet the girl of his dreams down in Atlanta. Maybe someday he’ll get married and have beautiful babies. Maybe he’ll become a politician. A good one, you know? One who works to make the world a better place.” She turns her head toward me. “You don’t know what comes next. No one knows, really, but anything’s possible. Isn’t it?”

The way she’s fighting for him, fighting for his happiness, when she’s never even met the guy, makes my heart feel like it’s just doubled in size. I stand up and go over to where she’s standing. I lean on the railing and look out at the playground.

“Benny and me,” I say. “We’d run around out there, chasing balls or chasing girls or, half the time, chasing each other. Since high school, it feels like all we’ve done is chase that damn championship football title.”

“That’s a lot of chasing,” she says.

“And here I am, feeling like I should be chasing something and instead all I’m doing is running away from everything.” I shake my head. “Is that messed up or what?”

She touches my arm. I can feel her looking at me. “So stop running. Just stand still for a while, and see what happens.”

I rise, straight and tall, and turn so I’m facing Lauren. She’s right there. I could take her in my arms. I could lean down and kiss her. I could stop running away from my feelings, from my father, from Benny even.

I could.

But I don’t.

Not so much because of my dad or the team or any of that, but because Lauren and I made an agreement. I don’t want to mess this up. How comfortable we are. How easy it is. And maybe, right now, I need a friend more than I need anything else. Who knows — with everything she’s not telling me, maybe she does too.

So I quickly turn and point at our abandoned plates. “Hey, check it out. You’ve hardly eaten any of our pie. Are you trying to tell me something? Does it suck? God, did we sell a bunch of awful pies to people? They’re going to hate us.”

“They’re not going to hate us.”

I reach down, pick up her plate and fork, and hand it to her. She takes a bite. “It’s really good, you know,” she says.

“I’m curious. Do you still like bake sales after all that work?”

“Yep.” She smiles. “Maybe even more than I did before.”

I could say the same thing about my feelings for Lauren. Instead, I eat my pie.

When i get home, Gram and Grandpa are watching the news.

“You just missed it,” Gram says. “They had a short piece on your bake sale today.”

“It sounds like it was a huge success,” Grandpa says. “Sure were a lot of people there when we stopped by.”

I take a seat on the sofa, suddenly realizing how tired I feel. “Yeah, it went really well. Thanks for coming.”

Gram smiles. “Our pleasure. Your dad was there too. Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I did. He said he made a nice-size donation.”

“So Benny will go to Atlanta, then?” Gram asks.

I swallow hard. “Yeah. Not sure when. Soon, I guess.”

Gram stands up. “I’ll get dinner ready.” She looks at me. “I’m proud of you, Colby. We all are. This has been a difficult time, and you’ve really shown the community what a fine young man you are.”

“We’re going to have pie to celebrate, right, Judith?” Grandpa says.

Gram smiles. “You bet. I bought a beautiful berry pie for us to have tonight. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Of all the things she could have bought. It makes me laugh. “Sounds great.”