“They say there’s one player on every team with a receiver buried in his head. According to them, a guy sits in the control room and broadcasts information to these players. If you believe them, there hasn’t been an honest street football game played all season, maybe for even longer.”

“That’s incredible!” She sits up, crossing her legs beneath her. “Do you believe them?”

He nods. “They want me to go to the Attorney General with them.”

She tilts her head. “Are you going to do it?”

“No.” He makes a fist of one hand and smacks it idly into the other. “Harv Matision is one of the players involved.” He says it as if it explains everything. When he sees her puzzled expression, he amplifies a bit more. “If I go with them, Matision will be suspended. I don’t want that to happen. You see, the EBS people told me it’s all arranged. Matision and I are going to meet in XXI “

“After XXI, you’re hoping they won’t have to suspend him, because you’re hoping after XXI he’ll be dead.”

“That’s blunt, but essentially true.”

She hops to the floor and stands there, hands on hips, addressing him as a teacher might a backward student. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that it might be the other way around? It might be you who winds up dead?”

“It’s occurred to me, yes.”

“Yet you’re still going through with it?”

“I’m still going through with it.” He sits up, throwing his feet casually over the edge of the bed. “I want Matision. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in the world.” His words cut through the air like a scalpel, deftly laying open his soul. “I started out wanting him for Eddie. Not any more. Now it’s for me. I want him for myself. Because he made me feel old. Because he made me feel inadequate. Because he made me feel I wasn’t fit any more to play football.”

He grips her by the shoulders and pulls her to him, until their foreheads are almost touching. “You have to understand why I’m doing this. It’s important to me that you do.” He struggles to attach a label to the unfamiliar emotion inside him. “I’m in love with you.”

By way of response, she pulls him to her and kisses him, but neither of them really enjoys it much. It’s a kiss too filled with the salty premonition of tears.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

“You’re sure?” the senator asks.

“Absolutely.” Sarah twists the vidphone cord into a loop, holding an end between each thumb and forefinger. “He won’t go to the Attorney General.” She snaps the cord straight.