“Yeah. No wonder you’re down here.”’

Chatter, easing after a fashion, his insides feeling less twisted. Was she getting any good shots? Amos Lawrence was not having his best day, the game was all about defense, but he was still giving her good pictures, he was really something to see. That quarterback looked too skinny to be on the field but he was surprising people. Did people ever hassle her because she was a girl, the other photographers, he meant? They tried to sometimes. But she was pretty tough. Not every guy was threatened by a woman who knew how to take a picture. Gossip about the office. The sports editor, what a trip, sarcastic bitch. Not nearly as sarcastic as you are, she said. You know you scare the shit out of people. Well, somebody has to. You slack assholes think a deadline is an approximation. He’d grown so much better at cursing. Cold wind, huddled against the fence. Came out that he’d taken the bus to Durham. She offered him a ride home in the end, told him where to meet her. Relief, since he had no idea how to get back to the bus station. He hung around the fence for the rest of the game.

The hurt of it all eased up in the cold, in the noise, in the fact that Carolina won the game, the conference championship, a decent national ranking, probably a good bowl bid, too; the team was pretty jubilant at the end, jumping onto one another’s backs, pouring Gatorade over one another, grabbing butts, knocking helmets. The shit of it was he liked Kathy. He followed the crowd through the entrance, found Maggie, carried her camera bag to the car while she fiddled with her camera and her film case. I burned some good film, she said. You usually do, he said. Driving to Chapel Hill through the slow-moving traffic. What a good day, she said. I suppose.

He’s Not Here

JUDSON CALLED IN THE EARLY EVENING, anxious, breathy voice, remember me from the meeting the other day? Do you want to go for a drink tomorrow, like we talked about? Let’s go tonight instead, Ronny said. Trying not to calculate what might happen. Turned out Judson didn’t have a car. They decided to meet at He’s Not Here. I don’t really want to go to a gay bar, Ronny said. I don’t either, said Judson. Besides, you can’t get to one without a car. He’s Not Here is fine, I’ve been there before, if you don’t mind the jocks. Ronny set the time, nine or a little after. He had to check in at the paper, he said. A lie. When he hung up the phone he felt he had done something wrong.

But it wasn’t calculation. No reason he couldn’t like Judson, hit it off with the guy. Nice enough, decent, quiet, looked all right, maybe a little awkward. Ronny couldn’t remember the face very well. But a pleasant guy, anyway. Why couldn’t he like somebody like Judson, who called when he said he would, who talked like a sane person? He might as well try. Because Kathy and Ben. Because.