I keep a tight grip on the steering wheel, navigating his big truck through the dark streets of Graceville. With one eye on the road ahead, and one eye on him, I know I shouldn’t be laughing, but I honestly can’t help myself.

“Are you okay?” I chuckle, biting back my smile as best I can.

“No!” he groans. “And stop laughing. It’s not funny!”

I press my lips together. He’s right. It isn’t funny, and I honestly do feel terrible. He barely made it to the bathroom in time back at the restaurant, and he was stuck in the stall for a good twenty minutes before he finally emerged long enough to tell me he needed to leave immediately.

“Do you want me to pull over? There’s a restroom at the Wendy’s—”

“I’m not gonna shit in a damn Wendy’s, Murph!” Harley huffs, his voice gruff and a little strained.

“Well.” I shrug. “When ya gotta go, ya gotta go.”

I can feel his eyes on me like daggers, and I stifle the smile threatening me yet again, choosing to stay silent. As Harley protests every slight bump in the road, keeling over in pain when his gut begins contracting once again, I keep my mouth shut. Driving as fast as I can along the winding dark back roads that lead outside of town, I silently pray that we don’t have any accidents until we make it safely to his house. And thankfully, by the time I maneuver the big F-250 into his drive, Harley has managed to keep his bowels under control. But before I even shut off the roaring engine, he pushes open his door, jumps out, and runs inside as quickly as he can while so obviously clenching his cheeks together. Left alone in the truck, I finally release the laughter I’ve been holding in, burying my face into my forearms as I continue gripping the steering wheel to keep me from breaking apart into a fit of hysterics.

Poor Harley. He’s never going to live this one down.

I collect my composure and contain my own laughter as I invite myself inside Harley’s house, stopping in the living room. I take a moment to look around at the place I know so well, and I can’t help but smile. Harley’s high school football jersey that was retired after his last senior game with the Graceville Bears is mounted in a big frame hanging on the wall. Beside it, a few other football memories hang proudly; the life-size banner of him that used to hang in the school corridors; a photo from his signing day with State; his Sportscene magazine cover. It’s all up there on the walls, displayed like some kind of shrine, and I wonder for a moment if it’s doing more harm than good. This is a guy who lost everything with one unfortunate tackle. I have no doubt that the memories on the walls are fond, but I can’t help wondering if perhaps he keeps them there only to remind him of everything he could’ve had, everything he lost, and at that thought my heart aches a little for Harley Shaw. I know all too well what it’s like to lose something you love.