Lisa Schroeder: The Bridge from You to Me

On the way to Benny’s house, the warm wind blows through the open windows of my truck as the sun hangs low in the sky. Benny’s in front of me, on his old Suzuki. He loves that bike almost as much as he loves football.

We drive through town, past the Hasty Freeze with a parking lot full of people. Past Purcell’s New and Used Cars, where most kids get their first cars. And we drive past the Towne Pump, the gas station where we all meet up on Saturday nights, trying to figure out where we can find some fun.

As much as I think about leaving and moving on to bigger and better things, there are moments, like right now, where this small town makes me smile. It is home, after all.

When we reach his house, Benny pulls his bike into the driveway behind his mom’s car. I park on the street, and then I grab the cake and strawberries.

I hand the cake off to him before we go inside. “Nice job, Rachael Ray,” he says before he opens the door and yells, “Happy birthday to the best mother in the whole wide world!”

She peeks her head around the corner. When she sees him carrying a cake, she claps her hands over her mouth and comes all the way out from the kitchen.

“Benny. And Colby. What did you boys do?”

He walks over and hands it to her. “It’s angel food. We made it ourselves. I got strawberries too.”

“Oh my word, it looks wonderful.” She looks at me. “You boys really made it?”

“Sure did,” I say. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Lewis.”

She sets the cake down on the coffee table, pulls Benny into a hug, and kisses him on the cheek. Then she does the same to me.

“Can you stay for dinner, Colby?” she asks. “The lasagna is just about ready. As soon as Ben’s dad and brother get here, we’ll eat.”

“Ma, you shouldn’t have cooked,” Benny says. “We could have taken you out.”

“I don’t mind,” she says. “As long as we’re together, that’s the important thing. So, Colby, you staying?”

“Yeah, my grandparents aren’t expecting me home for a while. They know it’s your birthday and that Benny and I wanted to help you celebrate.”

“I just can’t get over it,” she says. “You boys doing this for me.”

Just then, Mr. Lewis walks in the door. He’s carrying a bunch of red roses wrapped in floral paper.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he hands her the flowers and gives her a kiss.

Benny motions to me to follow him into the kitchen, so I do.

“They like kissing each other,” he tells me. “But that don’t mean I have to watch.”

It makes me laugh. “Well, it’s good they love each other that much after all this time, right?”

“Right,” he says as he flips through the pile of mail sitting on the counter. He flashes a couple of college brochures at me. “Since I took the SATs, they keep on coming.”

“Hey, that’s a good sign. Your scores must have been pretty decent.”

“Yeah, I guess. Not sure it’s gonna happen unless I get a scholarship, though. And I’m not talking one based on my academic achievements, if you know what I mean.”

“Something will come through,” I tell him. “Try not to stress about it.”

I say it because this is what I want to happen for him. Maybe if we say it enough times, it really will.

“What about you?” he asks. “You made a decision?”

I sit at the kitchen table and Benny joins me. I take a deep breath. “I know it’s hard for people to understand, but I swear, I’ve thought about it a lot . . . and I’m pretty sure my mind’s made up. I don’t want to play college ball. I don’t want the added pressure in college. The expectations. The baggage that comes with it, you know? I don’t want professors to see me as the stupid jock. Or anyone, for that matter.”

He squints his eyes like he’s confused by my response. “But you’re good, Pynes. I mean, do you know how good you are? It’s like taking that beautiful and delicious cake we made, that we worked so hard on, and throwing it away. It’s such a waste.”

“As long as I go to college, isn’t that the important thing? I mean, I played ball these past four years because it was fun, with you and the other guys. And around here, you know how it is.”

“As my dad likes to say, it keeps us out of trouble,” Benny says.

“Exactly. I’m glad I played. We all make a good team.”

“Not just good, Pynes. A hell of a team.”

“Yeah. But next year, it’s a whole new ball game. The reasons I’ve loved it so much these past four years won’t be there anymore.”

“So how you gonna go without a football scholarship? Aren’t you worried about that?”

I fiddle with a burgundy place mat in front of me. “I don’t know. But I figure people do it all the time, right? I can get a job. Take out loans. My grades are really good; there might be other kinds of scholarships I can get.” I look at him. He’s trying to understand, but I also know he would give just about anything to trade places with me right now. And if I could, I would.

“And you know, it’s important for you to remember that too,” I tell him. “If you don’t get a football scholarship, there are other ways. We can help each other figure it out, okay?”

“But I want to play,” he says. “You probably don’t even know how much I want to play.”

He’s right. I don’t. Just like he doesn’t know how much I’m ready to move on from living and breathing football.

His mom comes in. “Russ is pulling up. Can you boys get the table set, please? I just need to finish up the salad, then we’ll be ready.”

Both Benny and I stand up. I look at him. “For now, let’s forget all that. Focus on the task at hand. To take state.”

He reaches for a fist bump. “You can count on that.” His eyes light up when he asks me, “Hey, after we eat dinner and have cake, wanna watch The Avengers again?”

I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve watched it.

“Is the Hulk green?” I ask.

“That would be a yes,” he says.

And then Benny laughs. He laughs and laughs, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And then I’m laughing, and his mom is too. Happy birthday, for sure.