I'm Sorry, Joey

"Are you ready for tonight?"

I propped myself up on my elbows, the blanket draped over my naked torso. Joey was at the full length mirror, naked as I was, flexing his arm. He had his football helmet on.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I laughed, throwing a pillow at his ass.

"Crazy for you, baby." Joey intoned in a deep voice, running back to the bed, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder, where I flailed about and screamed and beat the small of his back, trying to get him to let me go. He cackled and opened his bedroom door, streaking down the hallway with my struggling, bare ass sticking out in the air over his shoulder.

He ran down the hallways I once chased him down as a relatively naive thirteen year old, and I watched the expensive carpeting rush past, remembering how I fell face forward and at the feet of Billie - when I saw him up close for the the first time, the day I first kissed Joey. I watched the patterns wind and repeat and disappear beneath Joey's ever falling and rising feet, I watched the muscles flex in the back of Joey's legs, muscles cultivated by years of football.

And as he continued to holler and run, obviously enjoying himself, I went quiet, knowing he couldn't hear my pleas through his own jubilation, and watched the carpet run and run and run beneath me.

-

The stadium was booming - with sound, color, people, heat and humidity- I knew it reminded Billie of a concert because the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smirk and his hips swung when he walked - he was used to being the center of attention, and he once told me that people were going to stare, so he was going to give them something to look at.

As if his gorgeous face wasn't enough.

Adrienne weaved her way through the throngs of people, some who waved and smiled at me, others that stared openly at Billie, and pushed her way to the bottom bench, taking a seat in the middle. Billie sat next to her and rested his knee against hers, and I sat next to him, not even our shoulders touching. We were very careful around Adrienne.

Below us, Joey was in his element. I watched my boyfriend flex his calves, the muscles I watched under me hours before now shining lightly with sweat and covered partially by his white and blue football uniform. Someone threw a ball his way and he caught it easily, smirking much like his father did and passing it back, the brown ball going in a perfect arc.

He turned suddenly, staring straight at us as if we'd called his name. Joey slowly strutted our way, knowing a lot of eyes were on him and loving it. He stood on top of the flimsy table holding the team's water cooler, his face just coming up level with our knees.

"Looking good, Joe." Billie said, an undertone of something - amusement? disgust? - in his voice.

"Oh, I know, Dad. I've got this one in the bag." He and Billie launched into a discussion about football and football things neither Adrienne nor I understood, while I surveyed the stadium.

It looked like half the school was there. Last game of the year, our team undefeated, rival school on our turf... all the usual high school bullshit. I knew half the turnout was because star quarterback, Joey Armstrong, was finally a senior and this was his last game, his last time to have everyone yelling his name as he threw the ball to just the right person in just the right position.

It was all so cliche. I didn't care, but Joey did. Billie did. So I was there, good model girlfriend, school banner in hand. My face was flushed red with happiness but that was only because Billie was there, next to me, and would be for at least a few more hours.

"-know why, right Liz?" I flinched. Joey, Billie, and Adrienne were all looking at me
expectantly.

"What?" I asked, my eyes wide in confusion. "What?"

"You weren't listening to me." Joey stated, his voice incredulous - how could anyone not listen to him?

"Oh. Sorry." I said, not noticing that Billie and Adrienne and both looked away, uncomfortable.

My obvious lack of sincerity infuriated Joey. "No, you're not. You've been flaky all day - what the hell is your problem?"

"I-" But Joey never got to hear my excuse, because at that very moment his head must have inflated just a bit too much for the flimsy table he was standing on, and it bent under his weight, sending the prize quarterback flying and spilling the team's water all over the sidelines.

I stifled what would be hysterical laughter and tried to look as concerned as everyone else did. Joey stood up, face red, obviously trying to play it off, and I hadn't seen him look so human in a long, long time. It was a little nice to see Joey without all his layers of arrogance. But then he fixed his gaze up at me.

His eyes have always reminded me of Billie's. Billie's are green, Joey's are brown - but something about them had always, always made me think of Billie. And those eyes right now were looking at me with such anger I felt something in me break - and I stood up and walked away.

I walked out with all those eyes staring, staring - but the only eyes I could feel were Joey's, burning into my back.

-

Billie caught up with me halfway out in the now-deserted parking lot. A loud roar from inside the brightly lit stadium told me the game had begun.

"Liz?" I turned - I didn't want him to see my tears but there was no way I could keep my back turned to him.

"Liz," he said, stepping up to me and looking around quickly. "It's okay, you know? He's just full of himself right now, he's not... he's not himself."

Another roar from the stadium just egged my tears on - Billie was out here in the dark, trying to comfort me, when his son was inside, playing the last game of his high school career.

"Get inside," I croaked, wiping my face with my sleeve. "You're... you're missing it." But as I spoke, Billie walked away from the stadium, towards me, his arms outstretched, shaking his head slowly. He wasn't going anywhere.

I did exactly the opposite of what I should have done - I melted into his arms, my eyes closed and my heart beating a fast rhythm like it always did when I was close to him. I felt his strong chin set down on top of my head, and his warm neck covered my forehead while the last of my tears dried on his collar.

He tilted my chin up and kissed the bridge of my nose before asking me what was really wrong, because he knew there was something up. I sighed - I could keep nothing from him, he knew me too well.

"Billie, I was accepted into NYU." I felt him intake breath sharply - that was it, I was leaving him, going across the country... he regained some of his composure.

"I'm... I'm so proud of yo-" I cut him off.

"And Berkeley."

"What?" He held me away at arms length, his hands on my shoulders.

"Two letters came today. I was accepted into NYU and Berkeley. It was up to me to choose." A roar from the stadium washed over us, breaking the silence I had created. Suddenly, Billie's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, 'was'?"

I took a deep breath, stepped forward and pressed my lips to his, taking something from my pocket and putting it into Billie's hands.

"I mean 'was' because I've already made my decision."

In his hands, Billie had two jagged halves of what had once been an acceptance letter to New York University.

"And I chose you."