“A couple.” He chugged a few sips. “I just started.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “So, how much money have you lost?”
Silence.
“What time are you heading to class?” Laura called from the kitchen as she started to prepare lunch. She was making red beans and rice for the third day in a row, trying to save money for the surgery. Their consultation with the surgeon had gone well. He’d said Brian was a good candidate for the surgery, and with intense physical therapy, he could even be ready to play as soon as next year. But first they had to come up with $40,000.
“I need to make money,” he said, focused on his laptop. “So I’m not going.”
Laura frowned. Brian hadn’t been to class in over a week. “I understand that, but don’t you think it’s important to stay in school?”
He chuckled slightly. “That sure is rich, coming from you.”
Laura threw him the middle finger. “In case you’ve forgotten, I dropped out to marry you.” The decision hadn’t bothered Laura too much at the time; they were getting married, and Brian was starting at LSU. It didn’t make any sense for her to stay in Toulouse and finish high school when her whole life was waiting for her elsewhere. But it didn’t help her case now. She dried her hands on a dish towel and walked out into the living room. “If you want to play for them when your knee is better, don’t you still have to pass your classes?”
“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “I talked to Coach. He says if this surgery works, they’ll take me back. I’m the best they’ve got.”
“But can he really guarantee that if you aren’t enrolled?” Laura asked. “Not to mention that you’ll lose your scholarship and your health insurance. . . . What if something else happens to you? What if you decide you want the other surgery, the one they will cover?” The water from the pot started boiling furiously and spilled out onto the stove. She grabbed a ratty dishrag and began cleaning up the mess.
“I’ve got this game down,” he said, glancing up. “I’ll take care of us. And I can go on my parents’ insurance; it’s not a big deal.”
She twisted the towel in her hands anxiously. “I just don’t think you’re thinking this through, Brian. We’re going to have to move out of this apartment.”
“So, I’ve been thinking about that. . . .” He closed his laptop. “My parents said we can stay with them rent-free to save some money for the surgery. As much as I don’t want to do it, it makes sense.”
She paused for a moment, processing what he’d just said. Then a sinking feeling hit her stomach. “No. No, no, no. I am not going back to Toulouse, and I sure as hell am not going to live with your parents. What, are we in high school again?”
Brian ran a hand through his messy blond curls. “We stay with them for a few months—tops—and I’ll dedicate myself full-time to this poker thing, and I promise we’ll have enough money for the surgery in no time. Don’t you want me to play football again? Don’t you want me to play in the NFL like we planned? You’re not gonna get that mansion or those damn shoes with the red soles on them if I don’t do this. You know you want this as much as I do.”
Laura leaned her hip on the cabinet, shaking her head. She stirred the food, allowing the smell to wash over her. The scent reminded her of her mom’s cooking, except that her mom’s meals were always homemade, and Laura was lucky if she could make a successful dish from a box. She’d even screwed up a Zatarain’s mix; the rice had come out gummy the night before. She wanted to call her mom and ask for advice—about the food and about Brian—but she reminded herself she was an adult and quite frankly should be able to figure out what to do. “There’s got to be another way,” she finally said, an edge of desperation in her voice. “We can’t just go from living alone to having chaperones twenty-four seven.”
“Oh please . . . You know they’re not like that. You seem to be forgetting the long periods when they left us alone to do all that stuff on the living room couch,” Brian said with a laugh.
“Brian, this isn’t funny!” Laura yelled. She threw the wooden spoon on the Formica countertop and stormed into the bedroom.
She had been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes when Brian calmly limped into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I know this is really hard for both of us, and it’s not fair to you. I’m just asking you to make this one sacrifice for me.”
Just this one? she wanted to say. Instead she wiped her wet cheek dry. “I refuse to be stuck in that house with them every day.”
“I’m sure Ricky’ll give you your old job back,” Brian said, patting her head like a puppy. Back in high school, Laura had worked for Ricky Broussard at the Sea Shack. It wasn’t such a bad job because it was where all of her friends hung out.
“I never thought we’d be going back to Toulouse, that’s for sure.” She intertwined her fingers with his.
“You and me both,” he said, sinking onto the bed beside her.
She sat up and shifted her body toward him. “Be serious with me. How long do you think this is going to last?”
He propped his head up with his muscular arm and leaned into her. “If I have the surgery, I can be back on the field next year. That means we’d be back in Baton Rouge in the summer for training.”
“I guess that’s not so bad,” Laura said, silently weighing the pros and cons in her head.
Pro: Saving money more quickly, and being able to pay for the surgery sooner.
Con: Going back to that Podunk town.
Pro: Being on track for Brian to play professionally and never having to worry about money again.
Con: Going back to that Podunk town.
“So, what do ya say?” Brian asked, his gorgeous blue eyes pleading with her.
“Fine.” She took a deep breath and grasped his hand. “But only because I love you.”
6
madison
MADISON ROLLED HER mud-splattered blue pickup into the parking lot of Gary’s Fuel Depot. She hoped the weird rumbling noise it was making didn’t mean anything serious; the last time it sounded like this, she wound up stuck on the side of I-10, hyperventilating at the idea that someone could come plowing into her at any moment, killing her before she lost her virginity. That very night, she gave it up to a friend of a friend she met at a bonfire party. Nothing like a brush with death to make you frisky.
She turned off the ignition and sat for a second as the rumbling turned into a clacking sound. Hopefully it’ll turn on again, she thought as she opened the creaky door and hopped out onto the concrete parking lot. A busted truck was the last thing she needed right now.
Madison looked down as her phone buzzed with a text from Laura:
Looks like I owe you $5. Back in town on Saturday. Maybe u can use it to buy me a drink to drown my sorrows :(