To Catch

Joe

She was breathing steadily in my arms, but I didn't know if she was asleep. "Cayden," I whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," she whispered back. "I'm kind of lost in memories and it's making it hard to sleep."

"Tell me more," I whispered.

"I told you the story," she said, sounding confused.

"No," I said. "Tell me more about Jack."

She sat up and looked at me, her eyes seeming to glow in the dark. "Why do you want to hear about him?"

I reached up and touched her face. "I want to know everything about you. And he was a part of you for a few years. And maybe it'll help take your mind off of things. Talking helps."

She sighed and settled back into my arms. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Then I'll ask questions," I said simply. "How tall was he?"

"Six-two."

My height. "Why didn't he play for the National Team, if he was so good?"

"First of all, don't say if he was so good. He was good. Really good. And he didn't go because he had to make a choice. He'd already smashed his collarbone a number of times and he always played before it was completely healed. The doctor told him that he needed to make a choice and he made the one that left him completely able-bodied. He still played soccer with us, though. He never hesitated to demo a move. He told me once that coaching soccer was the only reason he could deal with not playing anymore. Because he could be out there with us."

"Was he right handed or left?"

"Right," she said. "But in soccer, he usually led with the left. I mean, he favored his left side and his left leg when he was shooting."

"When did you two…when was your first time?" I asked.

I half expected her to say that it was none of my business, but she answered. Talking really was helping her. "December first of my junior year," she said. "Soccer season was almost over; we were getting ready to go play at Nationals."

"Where?" I asked, hoping that she knew what I meant.

"Nationals was in Denver, Colorado that year," she answered. "But we were in the locker rooms, if that's what you were asking."

"Weren't there other people around?"

She shook her head. "When I was a freshman, Coach gave me a copy of the key to the locker rooms. I'd go there late at night to practice sometimes, if I was having trouble sleeping. We went there sometimes late at night. Sometimes he would come just to help me with a new soccer move or watch me practice. But then after we started…he usually came to meet me so that we could…Just a changeup, you know? So that we weren't meeting at his apartment all the time."

"Was he your first?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Any since him?"

"No," she said.

"What was his favorite TV show?" I asked.

"Jeopardy!" she replied and I could hear the smile in her voice. "He was a genius, had a real knack for trivia. He said that when he was younger, when he wasn't playing soccer, he was reading history books. And then it turned into any book that he could get his hands on and eventually he just became a trivia guru. He answered every single question before the contestant could. I remember how hard I used to study to try to beat him…" She laughed. "It never did me any good. But sometimes he'd let me win."

"Did he have a favorite type of music?"

"He had a top ten songs list," she replied. "He listened to almost everything. Classical the most probably. He told me that it was because after a full day of having obnoxious kids in a classroom, it helped to relax him."

"Is that why you're such an expert on classical music?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Sort of. But remember the fact about the Winter Wonderland song?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"That came from him. Most of my random trivia does."

"So what was his top ten songs list?" I asked.

"Remember the Name by Fort Minor was probably his favorite," she said. "He said that was the motto that soccer players needed to live by."

"How's it go?" I asked.

"The part that we need to live by goes: This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, fifteen percent concentrated power of will. Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain and a hundred percent reason to remember the name."

"Hmm…" I said. "Was it a rap song?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"So what are the others?"

"He liked Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. He'd walk around all of the time singing that song. And Hello by Lionel Richie. Losing My Religion; he wasn't religious either. He's the reason that I say that God's love is supposed to be unconditional, but it's really not. And then Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones; he sang that one a lot in class while we were trying to finish a quiz. When You Love Someone by Bryan Adams. In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins. Lady is a Tramp by Frank Sinatra. ABC by Jackson5. And From This Moment On; we sang that as a duet. We sang it really well, actually."

I gave her a moment to think and then I said, "What kind of vehicle did he drive?"

"He drove a fairly new Volvo. His parents were really rich. Well…technically, he was. They died and left him all of their money."

"How did they die?"

"His mom died of cancer," she answered. "And his dad had a heart attack a few years later. Jack always said that he didn't really believe that it was a heart attack. He just believed that his dad had missed her for too long and his heart had finally given up."

"Oh. And they were rich?"

She nodded against my chest. "His mom came from really old money and his dad was CEO of a major cooperation, but he never told me which one. He wasn't too fond of his dad."

I kissed her hair softly. "When was his birthday?"

"The same day as mine," she said softly.

"Really?" I asked, surprised. How often do two people fall in love that have the exact same birthday?

She exhaled a small laugh. "Yeah. We found that out my freshman year and I always thought that it was kind of funny."

"So, when is it?"

"February twenty-fifth," she replied.

"Did he have any siblings?"

"No," she said. "His mom was pregnant with another child when he was fourteen, but that's when they found out about her cancer and the baby didn't make it."

"Did he ever get detention?" Part of me was kind of hoping that she wouldn't be able to answer one of these questions. Part of me was selfishly hoping that she didn't know him perfectly.

"Yeah," she said. "They had a substitute teacher and to throw things away, they tossed them into the trash can instead of getting up and throwing them away. So, the sub said that that was fine, but whoever missed first would get noon detention. And right when he had to throw it, he sneezed."

I chuckled. "Talk about bad luck."

"Yeah," she said.

I knew that I had to keep her talking. It was helping. "What was his favorite kind of food?"

"Italian, probably," she said. "He liked all types of food. Especially my cinnamon rolls, which I made him at least once a month. He always claimed that I was going to make him fat. Like he could ever get fat."

"He was trim?"

"He was fit," she corrected. "He worked out every morning and then with us on the soccer field every day."

"What was his favorite type of history to teach?"

"World history," she said. "And you could tell. I mean, he was really animated during US history, too, but world history was like a totally different ballgame."

"So, his classes were your favorite?"

"His classes were everyone's favorite."

"Were you his first?"

"No," she said. "And he never hid that from me. There had been a couple in college, but he said that they didn't mean anything to him. Just flings. But I was something else."

"Did he have a favorite quote?" I asked.

"Not really," she answered. "He had tons of quotes stored up in that huge brain of his. But, when he came into class every day, he would start by saying, 'Ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages…Aidan'." She inhaled. "And he liked to say, 'Thank you, Captain Obvious. No, wait. You don't deserve the rank of captain. I'm demoting you. You are now Private Obvious'."

"So, he was funny?"

"He was hilarious," she corrected. "He liked to quote Looney Tunes. That sounds strange, doesn't it? A grown man watching Looney Tunes? But he had so many DVDs and we'd watch them together at his apartment…"

"How did your parents not get suspicious?" I asked.

"My mom was the head ER nurse and my dad was a police officer that worked a lot of nights; they didn't talk to me much. But I wasn't around them much, either. You have to remember, it was a boarding school."

"Oh, yeah," I said, feeling stupid. "Did anyone suspect anything?"

"No."

"How did you get off campus?"

"It wasn't too hard," she said. "It's not like they had security. And my roommate got kicked out my sophomore year and I never got another one, so…"

"But didn't they have room checks?"

"Nope," she said.

"Did your parents ever come and see you at school?"

"A few times," she said. "They came to only one game; I was a freshman then."

"How far away did they live?"

"Not too far," she admitted. "Twenty minutes or so."

"So, your dad had jurisdiction there?"

"Now, that's a tricky subject," she said. "There's a whole other story with that. He just found the body; and that was tricky enough."

"Okay," I said. "I'll leave it alone. Next question: Did you ever tell anyone about you and him?"

"No," she said. "No one knew except for me and him."

"Do you regret your abortion?" I asked.

She sighed. "Well, that's a tricky one. The reason that I got the abortion in the first place was because I was about to go and play for the National Team – which obviously didn't happen. But I thought that we could have another one later. And we didn't ever get to. So…I don't know. But he would be seven right now."

"He?" I questioned gently.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I always imagined it as a boy. I guess it could have been a girl."

"Would you have married him?"

"Yes," she replied. "If he had asked me, I would have. We talked about it a couple of times – about getting married after I graduated. He could have found a job teaching and coaching anywhere. And I could have been playing for the National Team."

"Do you still think about him?"

She sighed, her breath warm against my skin. "I try not to. But sometimes, it just happens. Like when I was in Brazil on a mission and I saw a kid playing soccer. Or when I moved to a new residence and found the box of notes that he had written and used to leave in my locker right before we all came in to change before practice. Or I'll smell the cologne that he used to wear or the phone will ring and I'll flash back to the times when it would ring and I knew that it was him calling. There are times…"

I nodded slowly and then kissed her hair. "Aidan McBradden," I mused. "That could be your name right now if things had worked out the way that you wanted them to."

"Maybe it happened for a reason," she said softly, as if she wasn't sure that she wanted to say it out loud. "Maybe it happened so that I could meet you. After all, if things had gone the way that I had wanted them to, then I would be playing soccer for the National Team. I wouldn't be a sniper."

"Well, then, thank God," I said and tilted my head to kiss her lips.

And the way that she kissed me back made me think: I've finally caught her.