Chapter Twenty-One
[Wednesday]
"The lion is wounded." Those were the first words Buddy Garrity spoke when Eric picked up the office phone. The players and coaches had all cleared out quickly after afternoon practice.
Eric closed his playbook. "What lion?"
"Coach Macon."
"Buddy, what the hell are you talking about? Coach Macon's wounded?"
"It's a metaphor, Eric. Do you know what a metaphor is?"
"I know what a metaphor is. What I don't know is what you're talking about."
"Coach Macon is having an affair with the principal's wife. Bob doesn't know yet. But I could steer him toward the light, if you know what I mean. Might open the JV coaching position next season, but don't forget you'll owe me one."
Eric rubbed his forehead. "I don't feel right about that. I don't want to get involved in ruining anyone's marriage, Buddy. Let her tell him. Or let him find out on his own."
"Don't want to break a couple up for your own gain. I can respect that."
Of course, Eric had once done just that with Mo and Tami, years ago, but they weren't married.
"But you know, Eric," Buddy continued, "sometimes you've got to crack the shell to get at the nut."
"Yeah. I uh…I don't know."
"Well, maybe things will work themselves out. You start touching up your resume."
"Will do. Thanks for keeping me posted. I appreciate it."
When Eric hung up the phone, he thought of calling Dale, but of course he couldn't on the school phone. He fished out his cell phone. He looked at his brother's number in his contact list for a while and realized he had no idea what time it was in Cairo. What if it was one in the morning? He was about to flip the phone shut and slide it back in his pocket when he noticed the voicemail.
"Eric," Tami's recorded message said, "my car won't start. Can you come jump me?" There was the sound of another woman's laughter behind her. "My car, I mean." She lowered her voice and whispered, "Though maybe you can jump me later when Julie's in bed."
[FNL]
Eric, ignoring the no parking signs, rolled the pick-up to a stop along the curb outside of Tami's office and leapt out. He looked to his left, where a homeless man sat against the building, sipping something from a brown paper bag, and then to the right, two storefronts down, where a pay day loan place stood, bars on the windows. He took off his sun glasses and walked inside.
Tami was sitting on the secretary's desk in the empty lobby and laughing.
"Is that man yours?" the secretary asked with a teasing smile. This was a new secretary, not the one who had double booked Tami twice. Eric guessed his wife must have some sway in the office, despite being only one of six counselors.
Tami slid off the desk. "He is mine." She walked forward and kissed him briefly. "I left a light on," she admitted.
He sighed. "Well show me where you parked."
After Eric had jump started her car, as he was holding the door open for her, he told her, "I don't like this neighborhood."
"I'm aware, sugar, but these people need counseling."
"Maybe you should think about getting a CHL."
"Eric. I don't even own a handgun. I haven't shot a handgun in five years."
"Well, we can buy you one. And we could take the class together. Just think about it."
She shook her head and slid into the car, and he shut her door. Then he followed her home.
It was after 6:30 when they got inside. Julie was doing her homework on the living room coffee table. "I ordered pizza when you said you were going to be late," Julie told them, which was obvious from the crust-filled paper plate next to her math book. "There's more in the kitchen. I took the money from Dad's secret stash."
"You have a secret stash?" Tami asked.
"It's in one of his boxes of game tape," Julie said. "Found it last month when I was looking to see if one of my VHS tapes got mixed in there." They still hadn't bought a DVD player, despite Julie's many pleas.
Tami glanced back at Eric and then strutted through the dining room and into the kitchen. He followed warily. That was her angry walk.
The pizza box was open on the four-person kitchen table where they usually ate when they didn't have guests. Eric grabbed a slice.
"What's with the secret stash of cash?" Tami asked.
Eric finished chewing and swallowed. "I just like to have cash on hand. You never know when the banks might be closed."
"That's what ATMs are for." Tami poured herself a glass of water and set it on the table next to the pizza box. She was standing directly across from him now. "I feel uneasy about the cash, Eric. So before I start suspecting something completely ridiculous, like you having an affair or hanging out at strip clubs, just tell me what it's for."
"I don't even know where the strip clubs are. Though I bet there's probably one a block from your office. I don't like that neighborhood where you work."
"You've mentioned that before. The cash?"
"A'right." He set his half-eaten pizza slice down on the lid of the open box. "Sometimes you can get a little naggy about the amount of money I spend on craft beer. So I keep a little cash, buy a couple bottles when you're not looking, and hide them in the cabinet behind that cake holder you never use."
Tami jerked open the cabinet, pulled out the cake holder, and found four large bottles lined up against the back edge. "Where did you get the cash? I know you don't withdraw much from checking." Tami reviewed and paid the credit card bills and balanced the checkbook. She was a decent money manager, but sometimes he wished he could fly under her radar a little better.
"Remember that Anderson kid I trained privately after school last winter and spring? His parents actually paid me $30 an hour, not $20 like I said."
"Eric!" She shoved the cake holder back and slammed the cabinet door shut. "Really?"
"I can't drink the cheap stuff all the time, Tami. And you know, you nagging me about that is a little hypocritical given how much money you spend on wine."
"So you lied to me?"
"I didn't lie. How did I lie?"
"You agreed with me that you should spend less on beer. Then you lied about how much money you made, hid the money, and bought the beer. You don't understand how that's a lie?"
"A'ight, yeah, there was a little bit of non-truth telling involved. But really, Tami, think how much you spend on wine."
"You drink some of that wine," she insisted.
"Your wine's not any cheaper than my craft beer."
"Then why didn't you just argue with me about it instead of hiding money and sneaking around?"
"'Cause I don't like arguing with you."
"Well I don't like this one bit, the idea that you can successfully sneak around and…." She threw up her hands, dropped them, and shook her head. "This is not good, Eric. You should be discussing your disagreements with me, not pretending to agree and then doing what you want anyway."
It was true that he did that from time to time. Tami called it passive aggressive. He called it avoiding an unnecessary fight. "A'right. You're right." Sometimes he also said she was right before he quite believed she was. "I'm sorry I hid money. I'm sorry I pretended to think you weren't being ridiculous about the craft beer."
"Ridiculous?" Her voice went up. "You think I'm being ridiculous, because I object to you buying some ridiculously overpriced bottles of beer? Frankly, I never would have guessed a man like you could be such a beer snob."
"See? This is what I'm talking about. This is no fun."
She sighed. "Fine. We'll sit down and draw up a wine and beer budget tomorrow, and we'll make it fair and we'll find a compromise. But don't hide things from me again. That's not good for our marriage. Do you understand the importance of honesty in this marriage?"
"A'right. You're right." This time he meant it when he said it. When he thought about it, he could see that this practice of his did mostly just postpone the fight and make her even angrier. And there was also the fact that he wanted her to trust him. He didn't want a few small things to make her doubt his word about the big things. But sometimes trying to get Tami to see his point of view felt like rowing a leaking boat against a tide, and it was just easier to do what he wanted without talking to her about it. "You're absolutely right," he admitted. "And I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I can…I can have a conflict-avoidance issue."
She chuckled.
"You like that?" He smiled. At least she was amused now instead of so angry. "Is that the right term? Is than in one of your psychology books?" He picked up the rest of his slice of pizza but didn't bite into it, because it suddenly occurred to him that he should probably tell her that he'd been talking to Buddy about that JV coaching position. Of course, if he didn't mention it, he wouldn't really be keeping anything from Tami. He didn't know anything concrete yet. And if he told her now, they might fight about it.
"I'm glad you understand," she said. "Because, I mean, it's really not good for our marriage for you to keep things from me."
He put the half-eaten pizza down and told her.
She slumped into a kitchen chair. "We just moved here," she said.
"I know."
"Fort Worth has theaters. Museums. Culture."
"I know."
"Julie just started middle school, and she's made a best friend. The first really good friend she's had in over two years."
"I know."
"I have a job here, Eric. I don't know how long it would take me to find a job in Dillon. It's a small town."
"It's bigger than the last one we were in. Dillon is a 5A school, Tami. It has AP classes. And Dillon has restaurants."
"What, Applebee's?"
"There's a nice Italian place. And Dillon has a real hotel." He wasn't sure why anyone stayed in that hotel, unless it was to see or participate in an away game at Dillon High, but it was nice.
"Sounds glamorous."
"Look, I'm sorry, but what am I supposed to do? Even if they renew my contract, I'll just spin my wheels on the Owls. What do I do? Butt heads with Arnold game after game after game? I can't stand that man. And he's going to be my boss. Jason Street could be my meal ticket. You remember me talking about him."
"Oh, I remember all right. You'd be excited every time you got back from Dillon."
"He's going to be great, Tami. I can make him great."
She sighed. "I'm sure you can." She crossed her arms over herself and stared at the pizza box. "Well, when you hear something more definitive from Buddy, we can discuss the possibility."
Discuss the possibility? What was there to discuss? If he got a job offer, they'd take it, right? "Uh….a'right. Yeah."
"And don't mention it to Julie. No sense upsetting her before we have to."
He nodded.
"I love you, Eric, but I swear, sometimes you drive me up the wall." She pulled a slice of pizza from the box.
"So are we done fighting?" he asked.
"For now," she said.
"Any chance you're still gonna want a….uh….jump start tonight?" She usually didn't after an argument – another reason he avoided them when he could.
"I don't think so, hon. I'm not exactly in the mood anymore." She ate her slice, wiped her hands on a napkin, and asked, "You call your brother yet?"
"No. I haven't had time. I'll call him to - " He stopped. "Actually, to be honest, I'm not planning on calling him. He can call me if he wants. And I would appreciate it if you'd stop pushing me about this."
She seemed surprised by his frankness. "Well okay then."
"Hey, you said you'd like me to be more honest."
"I appreciate your honesty. I just think you might regret not calling your brother." She shook her head and sighed. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."
"You sure about that?" Eric asked as he got out one of his craft beers and then pulled a frosted pint glass out of the freezer.
"Is that too precious to drink out of the bottle?" she asked him. "You drink Bud Light out of the bottle."
"It's warm." He poured himself a pint. "I'll be in my office if you need me." He walked to the living room, slumped down in his recliner, and started the game tape.