“Yes, but I feel like we ruined Lucy’s news.”
“Nothing can ruin that news.”
“You know what I mean. Tonight was important. Really special to her. And we were reckless …”
“I know … But it’s done. We can’t change it now,” Coach said, always one to focus on the things he could control.
“But we have to fix it.”
“Time will fix it,” he said. “Trust me. She’ll come around.”
I studied his face, wanting desperately to believe that he was right but thinking it was a lot easier for him to be patient, wait her out. He didn’t talk to Lucy three times a day. He didn’t need her the way I needed her. I honestly couldn’t fathom what I’d do if our friendship ended.
I sighed, then went to sit at the kitchen table, resting my chin in my hand. Coach followed, sitting across from me, as I remembered the last thing he had said to me in Lucy’s family room. “So what did you want to tell me?” I asked him.
He blinked a few times, his face blank, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.
“You said you had something to tell me,” I said. “Right before Lucy came downstairs.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right.”
“Well?” I said. “What was it?”
Coach looked tense as he took a deep breath.
“Is it Mrs. Carr?” I made myself ask. “Because I know how hard this must be. I mean, I understand that your loyalty will always be to her … which is the way it should be,” I finished awkwardly, wishing I hadn’t brought her up.
Coach shook his head and said, “No. It’s not about Connie. I mean … I’ve had some pangs over the past few weeks. I feel guilty for being happy. For being excited … But I feel that way about football, too. After we win. Like how dare I be happy about a game when she’s not here? Then I always come back to reason and remind myself that whatever you and I do or don’t do isn’t going to bring her back.”
I nodded, familiar with his rationale, but aware that he was evading my question. “So what was it, then?” I said.
A few more seconds ticked by before he cleared his throat and said, “It’s about the past. Something that happened a long time ago.”
I froze, my mind flitting through the possibilities, praying that there hadn’t been another woman while Mrs. Carr was alive. Maybe he’d had an affair with a colleague. Or a random woman he met on the road. Or, most sickening of all, a ripe, bubbly coed. Maybe it was someone I knew, someone I had gone to school with. I couldn’t bear the thought of any of these possibilities, but told myself it wouldn’t change my feelings. Nothing could change the way I felt about him.
“How long ago?” I asked.
“Back when you and Ryan were in school.” He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “Do you remember that gal Ryan dated in college? Before the one he married? Tish Termini?”
“Yes,” I said, my thoughts racing. Surely Coach hadn’t been involved with Tish.
“Well … the night before we left town for the Cotton Bowl, I was in my office, doing some work, when she came to see me.”
I waited, bracing myself for the worst.
“She said she had to tell me something important and was very emotional. I told her to have a seat. So she sat down and told me this story … about the big blowout breakup fight she’d had with Ryan the night before … I think we can both picture that now.”
“Yes,” I said, my insides clenched as I mentally switched gears.
“Then she told me that Ryan had attacked her. I asked what she meant by attacked, and she spelled it out pretty clearly. She said that he pushed and shoved her … And then … Then she said he forced her to have sex.”
“He raped her?” I said, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Well, she didn’t say that exactly. But yeah … That’s what she alleged. That he had sex with her against her will. So yeah. That would be rape.”
I stared back at him, everything inside me deflating as I remembered how I’d felt on my bed the other night. How scared I had been even as I tried to tell myself that it was only Ryan. My boyfriend who would never really hurt me. Even with my own awful memories, I found it impossible to grasp what Coach was telling me now.
“So then what?” I said, feeling frantic. “What did you say?”
“I said it was a really serious charge and she’d better be very sure about what she was saying.”
“And?”
“And she said she was sure.”
“Then what?” I pressed.
“I asked her why she hadn’t gone to the police. She said she was scared and in shock and that she wanted to come to me first. She asked if I believed her, and I told her it really didn’t matter what I believed. I told her that if she had been raped she needed to go down to the station. Or at least to the campus police.”