Episode 4: An Ocean Apart

The Jefferson Forest High School football team seemed to get better over the season.  They competed.  Shoulders remained square and the energy was high.  Yet, they still lost.  The competition was good, very good.  The noise, though, that’s what was toughest. Improvements and getting better don’t seem to welcome silence—only winning does that.

In the middle of the season, the Cavaliers had lost another heartbreaker, and the team (along with THE BOY) were on the bus ride home.  It was dark, and the mood on the bus hung in the air with the stench of their overworn cleats. 

A school bus after a loss smells like a rolling corpse—the mixture of rubber and diesel and adolescent sweat isn’t nearly as noticeable after a win. 

Emma, though, was home.  She wasn’t able to get to the game, and we surely weren’t going to be awake long enough to pick her up and bring her home.

So they texted, she and THE BOY. A silent, quiet form.  Mostly dark, with flashes of light.

While Emma lay in bed with two thumbs on her phone, THE BOY sat on a slow-moving bus, sweaty with disappointment.

Emma: Can we talk at school on Monday?

THE BOY: I want to talk now.  I don’t want to wait.

Emma: No, I mean talk.

THE BOY: Let’s get it over with

The noise: Unbelievable!
What a jerk!
He’s just upset that they lost

He’s so rude.

Emma: I just want to spend more time together.

THE BOY: Me too. I’m just busy with football & school & stuff.

The noise: He doesn’t deserve you!

He’s just so selfish

Maybe you should give him some space.

And, so, the desire for more time and more talk just let in more noise. And it echoed between them and around them until they could not hear one another.  It got so bad, they couldn’t even see one another.

He remained a thoughtful, tall, nice boy.  And she remained a caring, tender, funny girl.  Apart. As far as oceans are.