As Coach Taylor washed his dinner dishes, he calculated the cost of the new Bowie High baseball equipment in his head. The funds were insufficient. As Athletic Director, he was going to have to tell Coach Harris the team needed to do a fundraiser, and Coach Harris was going to claim football got preferential treatment, and then Coach Taylor was going to point out that football brought in three times as much money in ticket and concession sales, and around and around they'd go. The knock on the door was at first a welcome relief from this worry, until he saw Bonnie's head through the window. He'd been trying to avoid her ever since his failed pass.

Deacon switched off the water and made his slow, reluctant way to the door. When he opened it, his eyes fell to her steel-tipped cowgirl boots.

"Things have been awkward," she said. "I don't want them to be awkward."

Deacon rubbed his chin but didn't raise his eyes from the boots.

"Let me be frank. You tried to kiss me, I pulled away, now you're embarrassed and you're avoiding me. I don't like you avoiding me. I'd like us to be friends."

Deacon's feelings shifted from embarrassment to irritation. He finally looked up to meet her eyes. "Since you're being frank, may I?"

"Please."

"I'm a little confused by your signals."

"How so?" she asked, her green eyes searching his.

"First, you ask me to take you dancing - "

"- You asked me on that date," she interrupted him.

He thought about it. So he had. He hadn't meant to, and she'd ended up making the plans, but, technically, he had been the one to say he'd take her to Billy Bob's. "And I know I wasn't the best date," he continued without acknowledging her point. "I understand that. But then you show up at my doorstep - "

"- To return a record you had lent me."

"And later you came to my house for dinner. And you brought wine."

"Because you invited me and told me to bring wine."

That was also true. For some reason, he had it in his head that Bonnie had been pursuing him, but when she laid it out like that..."Well, but I thought you had a good time at that dinner."

"I did have a good time," Bonnie said with a pleasant smile. "You grill an excellent steak."

"You talk to me every morning when we're heading out for work. You smile and laugh. And then you asked me to do things around your house, and you gave me a beer - "

"- A beer is not an open invitation to make out."

"You put a hand on my knee," he told her.

She nodded. "I did. I was trying to comfort you because you seemed upset about your son."

Deacon leaned against the door frame. "It's been a long time since I've done this. It's possible my judgment is rusty. But I really thought you were interested. You seemed like you were."

"May I come in?"

He stepped back and gestured with his hand. She took a seat at the kitchen table and he closed the door behind her before sitting down at the table with her.

"I do like you, Deacon. You seem like a nice, stable guy. Steady job. Excellent manners. Articulate. You're probably fairly intelligent, too. And I'm not going to pretend you aren't handsome. Under other circumstances, I'd have responded to your advance in a heart beat. But I don't want to be that woman."

"What woman?"

"That stop gap woman. That one who fills a temporary void between your wife and whoever you end up marrying three to five years from now. I'm happy to be your friend. I just don't want to be that woman. You're not as ready to move on as you imagine you are. And I just had a serious heart break not that long ago. I think I need to date casually for awhile."

"I'm...I'm very confused, Bonnie. You don't want to date me because you think it would only be temporary, but you think you need to date casually for awhile?"

Bonnie seemed to consider this. "It doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"No."

"Hmmm...It all made sense in my head before it came out of my mouth."

Deacon chuckled. He studied her. "Maybe you're the one who's not ready to move on?"

"He really did a number on me," Bonnie admitted. "He asked me to marry him. I had the ring on my finger. I was about to call everyone and let them know when I found out he was cheating on me. I'm just glad I didn't go bragging about the engagement and then have to take it all back."

"Well, if you want someone to rebound off of, I'm your man. I can be as casual as you want. I'll make it easy for you to move on."

"No you won't," Bonnie said. "You're too much of a gentleman for that. You'll be respectful and courtly, and there's at least a 55% chance I'll end up falling in love with you. But there's a 95% chance I'll end up being the in-between woman, and I just don't want to risk another heart break right now. I'd rather date a man I know I have no chance of falling for."

"That's absurd."

"It makes sense to me."

"Where do you get these ridiculous percentages?" he asked.

"From experience. Both mine and that of my clients."

Deacon put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. "Then why did you go out with me in the first place?"

"Because I assumed you were the sort of guy I'd have no chance of falling for. I mean, you're a football coach. And I don't even watch sports."

"I thought you played tennis."

"I play it. I don't watch it. And I usually fall for younger, less reserved, more creative men."

"I'm creative. I create new football plays all the time."

"But then you were a good dancer," she continued, "and you didn't talk about football at all, and I had a better time than I expected. And then I had an even better time at dinner at your house."

"So date me," he said with exasperation. "Throw the dice. Take the gamble."

"I'm sorry, I can't. But I really hope we can keep being neighbors and friends. Can we?"

"Well, unless one of us moves, I think the neighbor part is inevitable."

"Can we be friends?" she asked.

He sighed. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

He nodded. "Okay then. May I get you something to drink?"

"If I ask for a glass of wine, are you going to assume that means I'm asking for something else?"

"I'll get you the wine." He stood and pulled a bottle from a cupboard. "But I do want something in exchange."

"What's that?" Bonnie asked cautiously.

"I'm going to try calling my son tonight. I want your advice on how to talk to him."

[*]

Another week passed at Bowie High. Tami was growing very busy between her studies and preparation for the musical, so she was somewhat glad to find her aunt had a late counseling session when she got home from school on Friday. She wanted to decompress alone, without Aunt Bonnie chattering at her on and off all evening.

"There's leftovers in the fridge," Aunt Bonnie said as she double-checked the contents of her purse before heading out for her session.

"That's okay. Mo and I grabbed something at the DQ after rehersal."

"Oh. Are you two dating?"

"Not officially," Tami said.

"But unofficially?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"I don't know. We're going to the winter dance next Saturday."

"Be careful, Tami. Don't - "

"- I know. I'm not rushing into sex again." Aunt Bonnie knew about the boy she'd lost her virginity to, even though not even Shelley knew that. Somehow, her aunt had needled the story out of her. "I promise. I've learned from that mistake."

Aunt Bonnie nodded. "Well, I should be back by nine. I think I saw a letter from your penpal in that pile of mail on the counter."

When Bonnie had closed the kitchen door, Tami eased the letter out from beneath her aunt's new Reader's Digest. She retreated to her bedroom, shut the door, and lay on her stomach across the pink, blue, and white quilted comforter that covered her bed. Shelley had made the comforter for her before she left, in her middle school quilting club.

Tami unfolded the two sheets of college-ruled notebook paper.

January 24, 1983

Dear Tami Nameless Hayes,

So, in other words, your aunt looks NOTHING like Marilyn Monroe? Because if what you described is "like Marilyn Monroe," then I must be the spitting image of Robert Redford.

The A doesn't stand for anything. It's just an A. Didn't see that one coming, did you?

Do you think maybe you don't want to get married because your parents' marriage sucked? Because I'm pretty sure you can still garden and play tennis and be a counselor or whatever even if you're married. I've always assumed I'll get married one day. My parents seemed to like being married, and my dad really does NOT know how to live alone. He had to learn to cook after she died and didn't know what anything cost at the grocery store and just had to figure out a lot of stuff. I don't think he had any idea what to do with me, for one. So I figure a wife is nice to have, but I'm going to live on my own for awhile first. "Sow my wild oats," as my grandpa says, maybe get married when I'm like 30 and I have a good income.

By then, I should be playing professional football, or if I can't make it at that I'll be a sportscaster. I'm going to take Public Speaking when I repeat my junior year next year to help with that. Journalism, too. I'll probably be the sports editor for the newspaper. Athletics (football), of course. I can do all three electives now that they're adding that extra seventh period. Did you know they were doing that next year? They're going to take away our 15 minute break after third period, add 30 minutes to the school day, and shorten the passing time to 4 minutes. 4 minutes. You better run. The seniors are lucky. They'll get out before it all happens.

No offense, but your dad sounds like a real asshole. Sorry you got a dad like that. I used to think my dad was an asshole because he woke me up real early to run plays and stuff, and he's pretty demanding about football, and he sent me to this ranch. But I guess at least he never took off on me like your dad, or called me worthless shit like Billy's dad does, or beat me like Javier's dad did, or gambled away the life savings like Tiny's dad did, or anything like that. (Those are all guys at the ranch.) I actually talked to him on the phone yesterday and it was kind of cool. We didn't fight or anything. We talked about what we miss about my mom. Oh, and he said he's decided not to date your aunt, that he thinks it's better just to be friends. So I hope she's not too disappointed. I hope he let her down gently.

Tami laughed at these last few lines, because they did not at all match the version of events as her aunt had related them a few days ago.

About your teacher Mr. McMullen - yeah, he rambles. I had him for freshman English. Sniff his coffee cup sometime. Just do it. Did you know he used to be a Jesuit priest? He renounced his vows to get married. She left him five years later.

You should warn your friend that Shane O'Kelly's got the clap, but don't you DARE tell her you heard it from me. Just say you heard a rumor or something.

So the answers to your questions...

1. Favorite band? I don't know. I like Journey and the Stones and Van Halen. U2's good too.

2. Favorite book? The Bible. Just kidding. I only said that so I don't get hit by a thunderbolt. Probably The Stand. Stephen King. I hear he's coming out with a new one soon about a car that murders people. I'm totally getting that.

3. Favorite subject besides football? History I guess.

4. Favorite sport besides football? There IS no sport besides football. But my mom used to follow baseball, so I did watch the Rangers with her sometimes. And apparently her dad - my Grandpa Maddox - played in the minor league for three years.

5. You'd really like to know why I got sent here, wouldn't you? I'll keep you guessing.

Now some questions for you -

1. Favorite singer?

2. Favorite movie?

3. Where did you move from?

4. What do you look like?

Sincerely,

Eric Just-an-Initial Taylor

Tami noticed that Eric didn't answer any of her questions about Mo McArnold. He didn't say a word about his fellow junior and teammate. What did that mean? She hoped he wasn't saying nothing because he had nothing good to say.

Tami rolled off her bed, hurried to her desk, and tore out two sheets of notebook paper.