Chapter 15
Eric adjusts his burgundy cap. He flicks the crumbs of his unhealthy, sugar-ladden breakfast off of the embroidered, golden falcon on his polo.
"You ready to do this?" Liam signs from across the counter.
"Yeah, son, just a sec. I got to grab something."
Eric goes back to the master bathroom. He makes sure he closes and locks the door before opening the medicine cabinet and pulling down the bottle of pills. He hasn't taken one since he's come home from the hospital, but they are going to door to door today, and his job hangs on the outcome of these cold calls. He's prepared a list of prospects with his assistant coaches, and Liam is accompanying him to make sure nothing gets lost in the communication. Eric's worked hard to learn sign language, but he hasn't had long enough to fully master it.
The rustling of the pills in the bottle seems unnaturally loud to him as he tips and lets a single pill slide into his hand. He takes it under his tongue, and as it dissolves, he looks at himself in the mirror. There are more strands of white and gray than he wants to see in the otherwise dark black fuzz that shades his cheeks now. Tami says she likes the light beard, that it makes him look more masculine, and that if he grows it out, waits a year or two, and suddenly shaves it, he'll look ten years younger, and she can pretend she's having a late-in-life affair with a young high school football coach. He thinks she'll have to do a lot of pretending, but he's growing the thing anyway.
At the fourth house, Liam keeps glancing to his right, as if he's looking for something in the house next door. They wait a long time at the door, and Eric's about to walk away when a middle-age woman answers. Eric explains who he is and asks to talk to her son. The second the kids steps in the door frame, Eric knows he could turn him into a decent linebacker. He has to tap Liam's shoulder to get the boy to pay attention, because the kid is still staring at that other house.
Tommy Harrison reads lips pretty well, but not perfectly, and Eric's glad to have Liam along, because his signs fall short of what he really wants to say. If there's one thing Coach Taylor knows how to sell, it's the virtues of football, and he makes a hard sell. He's better when people can hear him though, he's sure. There's something in his voice, even more than his words. It's like that in domestic life too—it's not always what he says to Tami so much as how he says it that gets her going. With Liam's help, though, he does what he can, and damn if Tommy doesn't agree to try out.
As their stepping down from the cement stoop, Eric sees why Liam's been distracted. A pretty girl steps out from the backyard, dragging a manual lawn mower. She turns it around and begins to push hard, but it keeps getting jammed in the grass.
"Maybe you ought to help her," Eric suggests once he has Liam's eyes. "Is that that girl you told me about?"
Liam's clearly intimidated so Eric does what any good father would – he gives him a nice, hard shove until the boy staggers forward and nearly falls on his face. It's enough for Cindy to notice him, anyway. "I'll wait for you in the truck," Eric says, even though Liam can't see his lips, and then he disappears. He knows Liam can't say much, at least not much that's understandable, but he can at least help the girl.
He calls Tami while he's waiting in the truck and tells her the good news. "We'll make the minimum for the team," he says. "It won't be much of a team, but….it'll be a team."
"You've faced some pretty serious challenges before, hon. You've turned around a losing team before, you know. I saw you do it with my own eyes."
"Nothing like this." He sighs. He looks out at the suburban street that stretches before him.
"You need a little relaxation sugar?"
He chuckles lowly. "What did you have in mind?"
"I thought maybe when you get back with Liam, we could send him to the movies with Gracie, and I could help you…obtain some stress relief."
He likes the sound of that, but when he glances out the other side of the truck, Liam's showing Cindy how to push the manual correctly by putting his hands over her hands, and she's smiling. Kid's lucky he's good-looking and he doesn't have to say much. Eric never had it that easy. He might have been a quarterback in high school, but he was lanky and awkward and pimply and a mere second string until late in his junior year, when he suddenly filled out and the acne cleared up and he scored a crucial winning touchdown. Then he was finally popular and had girls falling all over him, but he never got to take advantage of the opportunity. He'd already fallen himself - head over heels for Tami, and he was determined to spend his senior year luring her from Mo's clutches. Eric never did get to sow his wild oats. Tami was his first, his last, his only. Not that it mattered. He supposed he'd been sowing his oats with her for years. She always had been more adventurous than him, in almost every way. He smiled to think what adventure she might have in store for them this afternoon. "I think we might be awhile though," he told her. "Hold that thought, babe. Hold that thought. Better yet, develop it a little."