Emmy And Me

Things just kept moving along with no real changes for the next few weeks. My classes were going O.K. and having Donny as a study partner made Bio tolerable, despite the world’s most boring lecturer teaching the class. Writing was going well, too. In fact, the only class that was giving me any real problems was French. As stupid as it sounds, part of my problem was that the T.A. who taught my section had a Parisian accent that kept reminding me of Emmy. Her voice was nowhere near as pretty as Emmy’s, but still I found myself distracted by it all too often.

I’d stepped up and Coach Burke liked my game well enough to make me a full-time starter, which caused a little friction on the team because I was just a freshman and some of the older players didn’t think I was deserving, but after I posted the best stats two matches in a row versus Utah and Colorado everybody stopped complaining. I’d proven that I was a legitimate starter and was doing more for the team’s success than most of the long-timers were.

My best night came when we hosted a tournament and Penn State came to play. Penn State was the defending National Champion and Stanford had been ranked number five, so this was widely thought to be a possible playoff preview. I was completely amped when Coach Burke told me I was going to start against Penn, especially when I saw that SmAshley Jones was listed on their roster. I was hoping for a little personal revenge for Temecula’s ending our State title hopes. To be fair, SmAshley was on a different team now and so was I, but still… I was going to take it to her if I could. Warming up, I could see that SmAshley was checking me out, and she didn’t look too pleased to see me across the net.

To my great disappointment she didn’t actually get to play at all, not even one set. I had to satisfy myself with making eye contact with her on the bench every time I scored a kill, which was petty, I know, but sometimes that’s how it goes. I was on fire that night and by the time we’d put Penn away three to one it was clear I was having the match of my life.

Coach Burke was no idiot, and after the second game he pulled me aside. “I see you taunting Ashley Jones,” he said. “I understand you’re disappointed that you lost to her team last year, but that’s no reason to make this personal. I mean, she’s not even playing, and you are, so you’re already doing better than she is, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I admitted.

“Well, all you need to do is keep playing the way you have been and let that be its own reward, all right?”

“Yeah, O.K. I can do that,” I admitted, a bit grudgingly.

“Great,” Coach said. “Now go back out there and play for yourself and your team, not for spite. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

I texted Steph after the game to tell her that we had a team meeting that was going to go late and I wouldn’t be able to call. She texted right back to say that it didn’t matter how late, just call anyway.

Our team meeting ran a little bit later than usual thanks to our good mood from our solid win, so when I finally called Stephanie it was almost midnight. I couldn’t talk in my room with my roommate trying to sleep, so I plopped down on one of the beaten-up couches in the res lounge, which was thankfully empty.

“Hey, baby. I hope I’m not calling too late,” I said when she answered the phone.

“No, I’m glad you called,” she replied, her voice quiet, almost whispering. “We needed to talk.”

“Is everything O.K.?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“No, no, it’s not,” Stephanie said, her voice soft. There was something else there, too, and I was getting concerned. “Have- have you been crying?” I asked, my voice unconsciously softening to match hers.

“Oh, babe,” she said, and I was sure of it. She was crying.

“Steph, baby, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?” I felt my eyes starting to water up, too. I hated it when Stephanie felt bad, and I wished there was something, anything I could do to make her feel better.

“Leah, I-” she said, her voice hitching. “I’m so sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on? Steph, just tell me,” I pleaded, really starting to freak out.

“My mom, she… she…” Stephanie stammered, unable to get her words out between her sobs.

“What is it, baby? Somehow we’ll work it out. It’ll be all right,” I murmured into the phone, squeezing that chunk of metal and glass so hard it was making my hand hurt. “It’ll be O.K., Steph, I promise,” I said, my heart breaking hearing her cry. At that moment I hated the four hundred miles that separated us like I never had before, and seriously considered transferring to San Diego State to be with her. This long-distance thing sucked so much worse than I’d ever thought it would.

I made comforting noises as best I could, and eventually Stephanie calmed down enough to tell me what had her so upset.

“One of the other people on the city council was talking to my mom this evening and she told me that this other woman had mentioned you, and how wasn’t it a shame how you turned out. Your dad a hero like he was, and you a disgusting pervert. She actually said that about you, Leah. She actually called you a disgusting pervert. Can you imagine?” Stephanie asked, her voice rising a bit. In her indignation she was forgetting to keep her voice quiet to not wake her mom.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” I replied, my voice expressing how crappy I thought this all was. Fallbrook may be in Southern California, but it was still a small town with a lot of rednecks.

“You know what the worst of it was?” Steph demanded. Without waiting for my reply, she answered her own question. “The worst part of all was that mom hadn’t heard that you were gay. She asked me if it was true, and when I said yeah, you were gay, she told me to stop hanging out with you and stop calling you. She didn’t want me to associate with ‘deviants’ like you. That’s what she said, Leah. She actually used the word ‘deviants’. I mean, I knew my parents were old-fashioned, but seriously?”

“Oh, jeeze,” I breathed, not sure what else I could say.

“I don’t know what to do, Leah,” Steph said, crying again. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, baby,” I whispered, my own voice choking up. All I wanted to do just then is to hold Stephanie, wrap my arms around her and kiss her until all the tears were gone, but I couldn’t. Four hundred miles kept us apart. Four hundred miles might as well have been a million. There was nothing I could do. Damn, this sucked big-time.

“Can you imagine what she would say if I told her we’re a couple?” Stephanie asked when she could get her voice together. “If I told her you and me were, like, you know, lovers, she’d have a shit fit.”

“You don’t need to tell her,” I said, trying to do my best to console her. “I mean, you haven’t told her so far, right?”

“I thought you wanted me to tell my mom about us,” Stephanie moaned.

“Well, no, I don’t if it’s gonna cause you a lot of trouble, baby,” I answered. “I just wanted us to be able to, you know, be out in the open about our relationship. But if you can’t,” I added hurriedly, “well, then, you can’t. I mean, oh hell. This just sucks, Steph. I just wish…”

“Yeah, me too, babe, me too,” Stephanie agreed. We both stayed silent for a while, neither of us having anything to add. Finally, Stephanie whispered, “I gotta go. I have a lot to think about, Leah.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly panicking.

“Good night, babe. I love you. I really do,” Stephanie said, then hung up with what struck me as a kind of finality. She didn’t just say good night, I thought. She said goodbye.

I sat there on that old couch in that empty dorm lounge, looking at the phone in my hand wondering if I should call back or not and wondering if Stephanie meant her goodbye to sound as, I don’t know, permanent, as it did. Fearing the worst, I made my way to my room, only to find it empty. Shinju wasn’t in her bed, as I’d assumed she would be.

Well, wherever she was, I was hoping she was having a better night than I’d been experiencing.

We had a morning match, so I knew I needed my sleep but I just tossed and turned all night long. Shinju never came home, and in addition to my self-pity party I have to admit I was worried about her. She had shown very little ability to control her alcohol intake, and what seemed to me to be poor self-control when drunk. Worrying that she was getting date-raped at some party somewhere didn’t help my crappy mood at all and by the time my alarm went off I was a mess. Showering helped a bit, but the walk to the gym did nothing to help my mood.

I must have been giving off a ‘leave Leah alone’ vibe, because Sammy took one look at me and just had me sit down. She talked to Coach Burke, who came over and asked me what was wrong.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” I answered, truthfully enough.

“Well, you look terrible. Do you think you can play today?” he asked, concerned for me, but also wondering if I was going to be an asset or a liability in the tournament. We had two matches that day so I knew he was planning on rotating the lineup, but I’d expected to play at least one game in each match.

“I can play,” I answered, trying to sound confident. “In fact, I think it’d probably help clear my head.”

“I’m going to start you against Notre Dame, but if it looks like you’re not up to par I’m pulling you,” he said. He didn’t say it in any sort of mean way, just stating a simple fact, and I appreciated it.

“Thanks,” I replied, giving him a smile that probably looked terrible.

Kerry came over after Coach left and sat next to me. “You look like your cat just died,” she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“No, Kerr, my cat didn’t die” I answered, seeing the humor in the question. “But I think my kitten did just leave me.”

Her eyes wide, Kerry breathed “No! No way! What happened?”

“I’m not totally sure,” I admitted. “I think her closet door just got slammed shut, you know?” Kerry nodded for me to continue, so I told her about the conversation Stephanie and I had the night before.

“That really sucks,” Kerry said in sympathy.

“That’s what she said,” I replied, my gallows humor making another appearance.

“Well, at least you can still laugh,” Kerry said, pulling my head onto her shoulder. “At least you still got your sense of humor. Are you gonna be O.K. to play? You know we’ll be needing you tonight against Santa Barbara.”

“Yeah, I think so. I think it’ll help get my mind off things, you know?”

“That’s my girl. We need you. We need your killer instinct,” Kerry said.

“My what?” I asked, not sure I’d heard her right.

“Your killer instinct. You know that’s what they call you, don’t you?”

“Who calls me what?”

“I think it started when we played in the last tournament. Somebody got talking to some of the girls from Penn and they said that it was you they were most worried about. They’d heard of you somehow and were talking like you were some kind of axe murderer or some shit. I guess after you totally cleaned their clock last night it confirmed it. I mean, you were on fire last night, girl!”

“I think I know how they heard of me,” I said, thinking about SmAshley. “So, the girls from Penn were the ones that called me ‘Killer’?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, they started it, but now pretty much everybody on the team does, too,” Kerry replied, laughing. “It seems like you have everybody pretty much intimidated, you know.”

“You’re kidding me,” I said, incredulous. “Intimidated by me?”

Just then Donny arrived, taking his traditional spot right behind our bench. “Hey, Leah,” he said. “Hi, Kerry,” he added, when she looked back and saw him there.

“Hey, Don,” Kerry replied. “How’s our good luck charm doing today?”

“I have no idea,” Donny replied with that big goofy smile of his. “If I see it I’ll let you know.”

The talk with Kerry had helped distract me from my troubles with Stephanie, and seeing Donny’s cheerful face cheered me up a little. At least I had one person who wanted to be there for me.

When the first set started there was no room in my head for anything but volleyball. Block, dig, jump, spike. The satisfaction of a game well played kept me distracted for a little while, but when I went to text Stephanie our results it all came back with a crash.

“We won vs Notre Dame 3-2. It was a good match. I wish you could have been here to see it,” I texted, uncertain of whether or not I would get an answer. Only a few seconds later, before I’d even had a chance to put my phone back in my gym bag, Stephanie responded.

“Im glad 2 hear it. I wish I could 2.”

“Baby, I just wish you were here all the time,” I shot back, hoping that Steph’s reply was a good sign.

“Call me 2nite,” came the immediate response. Not ‘I wish I was there, too,’ or anything like that.

My heart sinking, I texted back. “We have a night match. I can’t call until late.”

“Call anyway,” Steph texted, so I sent her a simple “OK”.

My good mood from the win was all shot to hell, so I told everybody I was going back to my dorm to take a nap and I’d see them for the late match against UCSB. Donny walked with me back to the dorms, thankfully keeping quiet. It must have been obvious that I was in no mood to celebrate because Donny just gave me a subdued “See you later,” when we parted to go to our separate dorms.

Shinju was still out, which worried me a tiny bit, but even more was a relief. I just wanted to be alone in my misery. I flopped face down on my pillow and let it all out, bawling my eyes out for what seemed like hours. Stephanie was leaving me, and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. I loved her and she loved me, but that somehow wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to give Stephanie the strength to fight for us, to tell her mom how she felt, and it wasn’t a fight I could have for her. Steph needed to deal with her parents her own way, and there was no way I had any say in it.

Crying for Steph and crying for my broken heart, I realized I was also crying for Emmy. When Emmy had left me I was just as powerless to do anything about it. She was taken from me just when everything was going so right, so perfect. Things with Stephanie were never as perfect, but I thought we could have a future together, and now this. The rug was yanked out from under my feet just as hard, and I was just as off-balance.

My alarm went off, letting me know it was time to get ready for the evening game against Santa Barbara. I washed my face and tied my hair back. Looking in the mirror there in the dorm bathroom, my eyes were still red-rimmed, but what could I do?

Walking back to the gym, I saw Donnie up ahead so I picked up my pace and caught up to him. “How are you doing?” Donny asked, concern in his voice.

“Crummy,” I admitted. “Going through the motions, I guess,” I added.

“If there’s anything I can do…” Donny said, and in a bold move, he wrapped his arm around me and gave me a shoulder hug.

“Thanks, Don,” I said, grateful for the support. Donny really was a good guy, and a great friend.

Coach Burke took one look at me when I got to the gym and told me to take it easy. “Sit this match, Farmer,” he said. “You look like you could use a break.”