Chapter X

X

 

After that, I have little recollection.  It’s like everything went dark.  All I know for sure is what Madigan told me.  According to him, I knocked over a stool and caused a server to spill her drinks on a table of customers.  One of them got up, but Madigan stepped in between and made the guy sit down.  I also tripped in a pothole in the back of the parking lot.

“Why do you park so far out?” I asked Madigan at the gym the following Tuesday.

“Because,” he replied.  “Just enough potholes keep others from parking back there.  No one ever goes back there.”

“That explains the keys,” I said.

“I told you not to fret,” he said, folding his yoga towel in his hands.  And then pointing at me, added, “And least you forget, I got you home.”

“That you did,” I nodded.

“You skinned your knee in the pothole,” he went on, “and then passed out.  I hung your head over the side of the door.”

“Did I?”

He shook his head.

“That’s a relief,” I said.

“Why you don’t remember?”

 I don’t remember getting pulled over by a cop on Smithville Road.  I asked Madigan why he didn’t take Research Boulevard to County Line Road.

“It’s much closer,” I said.

“I know,” he said, reaching for his gloves.

“Did you ride by that tree again?”

He shook his head.  We were in the locker room.  I don’t know what I was doing at the gym.  I had not yet fully recovered from that Friday evening at Mudder’s.

“Oh, did I say Smithville,” he said.

I nodded.

“I meant that curve on Research,” he said, closing his locker.

I looked at him.  He glanced at a guy coming in the locker room with his son.

“What did the cop do?” I asked.

Madigan turned to me, “What?”

“The cop�"what did he do?”

“He shined his flash light in your face.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

Madigan watched the dad and his son put their stuff in a locker.

“Well, is it?” I asked.

“He had me at 89,” he replied.

He turned and exited the locker room behind the father and son.  I followed.  Madigan stopped at the foot of the steps to the cardio area.

He said, “The cop wanted me to do a sobriety test.”

“How did you get out of it?” I asked.

“His supervisor is a good friend of mine,” he replied.  “We caught a weekend series at Wrigley Field.” 

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“He’s even met the family.”

“You have a family?” I asked.

He looked at me as if he had said too much.

“I was going to help you back to your place, but you went off into the dark.”

“I don’t remember,” I told him.

“You don’t remember me telling you to wait while I park the car in the garage?”

I shook my head.

“What do you recall?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on,” he said, “How bad can it be?”

“It was bad,” I replied, lowering my head.

 

I’m talking hugging-the-toilet sick.  I was so out of it I woke up wrapped in the rug on the bathroom floor.  I had a splitting headache and no clothes.  I never sleep in the nude; but there I was on the bathroom floor in my birthday suit­­�"knee skinned and bloodied.  So I got up and grabbed aspirins from the medicine cabinet, swallowed them down with drinking water, rinsed my mouth out, and then cleaned up my knee.  After that, I put on a t-shirt and briefs and went back to bed.

I slept most of the day Saturday; watched about an hour of the Cubs game and then went back to bed.  I spent Sunday in bed watching television.  I got a pizza but only ate one slice; and I never studied.  I was also a no show for Ashley’s Sunday school class picnic in the park.  Fact is; other than my classes and a group study, that conversation with Madigan was the extent of my interaction through Friday.  Besides, I was certain my night with Madigan was public knowledge by the pool.  That’s why I didn’t return Ashley’s calls or texts.  I didn’t want to have to explain my behavior.  I had my first good workout Saturday morning.  Madigan wasn’t there.  When I got home Amy was in the parking lot. 

“Hey,” she called out as I got out of the car.

I raised my hand.  She came up to me.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been under the weather,” I replied, reaching for my gym bag in the back seat.

“You mean sick?”

I nodded.

“Allergies?” asked Amy.

“No,” I replied, hoisting the bag over my shoulder.

She waited for more detail, but I wasn’t in the mood to go there.  So I closed my car door.  

“Well,” she said, “Ashley will be relieved to hear that.”

“What that I was sick?”

“No,” she replied, reaching in her back pocket.

She pulled out her cell phone.

“She thought you were mad at her,” she said.

She sent a message.

“Are you texting her?” I asked.

“You didn’t show up for the picnic�"and not returning her calls and texts.”

She shook her index finger at me.

“I was sick.”

“How sick?” she asked.

“Probably some kind of food poisoning,” I replied.

“You should’ve told her.”

“I didn’t think about it.”

“Didn’t think about it,” she repeated.  “Did it ever occur to you that she might think the problem was her?”

I had no response.  Fact is, up until now, I’ve not said much about Ashley; but now is as good a time as any I guess to set the record straight.  I was drawn to her before I realized she was reading Fitzgerald’s unfinished novel.  She had a lot to do with why I spent so much time at the pool.  Why I chose to attend that church on the other side of the bypass.

“You told her you’d go,” said Amy.  

“Stop,” I said.  “You’re making me feel bad.””

“You should,” she said. 

“Would you tell her I’m sorry?”

“You tell her,” replied Amy. 

“She’s probably not talking to me,” I said.

Amy glanced at her phone.

“She wants to know if you’re coming to the pool?” she asked.

She sent Ashley a response.

“I told her you’d be there,” said Amy. 

I looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve got exams coming up,” I replied.  “I have to study.”

“You can spend some time with her,” she said.  “She needs a friend.  Someone that will cheer her up.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Paul broke up with her.”

“She mentioned things weren’t going well,” I said.

“When did she tell you that?”

“Right after she asked me to the picnic.”

“You didn’t find that rather odd?”

“No,” I said.   “He never went to church with her, and she didn’t want to go to the picnic by herself.”

“She wanted to go with you.”

“Is that why they broke up?”

“No,” replied Amy, “Things were heading in that direction.”

“They’ve been together a long time,” I said.

“Since their sophomore year in high school,” said Amy.

“Isn’t that when her father got stationed at Wright-Patterson?”

Amy nodded. 

“He lived across the street from her,” she said.

Then she checked her phone.

“She wants to know if you’re really coming to the pool?” asked Amy.

“I’ll jump in the shower and grab something quick to eat,” I told her.

“Wait,” she said, raising her hand.

She read another text.

“Just shower,” she said, “Ashley’s bringing lunch.”

I had heard of Ashley’s skill in the kitchen.  I’m told her pecan pie has won awards and that she seriously considered culinary school instead of volleyball.

“Her chicken n’ dumplings are to die for,” said Amy.

“My mom’s pretty good in the kitchen,” I said

She hails from the Deep South.  I grew up on southern staples like sausage gravy and grits for breakfast.  So I was looking forward to lunch�"given Ashley was making it for me.  I mean I’m talking the most looked at girl by the pool.  And, up until now, I had kept my distance.  She had a boyfriend�"like Heather had a husband.

“I know she’s married,” said Ashley, lowering her eyes.

“Then why would�"”

 She looked up at me, “I thought she had seduced you to let her spend the night after the party.”

“I wasn’t even at the party.”

“I know that now.”

“What would make you think that?” I asked.

“She was all you talked about on the way to church.”

“I’ll admit that I was taken with her at first, but once I found out she was married that came to an end.”

“But you didn’t show for the picnic.”

“What’s that got to do with thinking that I spent the night with her?”

“You know how the imagination works,” she replied, raising the lid to the cooler by her side.  “I figured you didn’t want to be with me.”

“You figured wrong.”

“You didn’t call or text me,” she said with a long face.

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were avoiding me,” she said.

“I was sick.”

She handed me a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil.

“Then I got behind in my studies and had to catch up.”

“I went to the picnic by myself,” she said.

I touched her hand.

“I heard what happened with Paul.”

She looked into my eyes.

“Are you going to be alright?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It was mutual,” she said.

“I guess if you’re going to break up that way is best,” I said.  “Maybe, we can have dinner at Flannery’s after my exams.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“I want to,” I told her.

She smiled.  I held up the sandwich in my other hand.

“What is this?”

“It’s pulled pork with a homemade slaw.”

I opened the foil and smelled the sandwich.

“Did you smoke the pork?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“My dad’s barbecue last night,” she said.  “The sauce and the slaw are mine.”

I took a bite.

“I also brought a bag of chips,” she said.

“That looks good,” said Todd, coming up behind us.  “I hope you made me one?”

She nodded. 

“Why of course,” she said, reaching in the basket.

She handed Todd a sandwich.  Amy came up dripping wet with a towel over her head.

“Don’t I get one?” she asked.

“There are two sandwiches for us,” said Ashley; and then turning to me, “And one more for you.”

I had a mouthful of sandwich.  So I raised my thumb and nodded vigorously.  Todd and Amy laughed.  

“This is really good,” I told Ashley.

She grabbed a napkin and wiped the corner of my mouth.

“I’m glad you like it,” she blinked.

Reviews

[Amanda Moubarak]

I read them 😊 2 more chapters to go 💃

[William Yasanari Harris]

Question: Did the developing relationship with Ashley come out of nowhere? I tried to foreshadow his attraction to her in earlier chapters.

PS: By now, you should see that the story protagonist is not Madigan but the narrator.

[Amanda Moubarak]

It's not all of the sudden. It was clear that she liked him even though she has a boyfriend. And he liked her but couldn't make a move because of the boyfriend :p so the relationship makes sense to me now that the boyfriend is out of the way :p :)

[Amanda Moubarak]

Btw yeah i kinda new all along that the protagonist is the narrator but that Madigan will have a huge influence on him and on his life

[William Yasanari Harris]

Not questioning your intelligence. Just someone else didn't realize narrator was protagonist. The original model for this novel was The Great Gatsby. However, I have since embarked on a trail of my own. I'm still using the structure, but I'm veering away from the original draft that had Ashley competing with Madigan as the focal character after the narrator.

[Amanda Moubarak]

:) Ah okay. Well i didn't read the original but i'm sure you've come a long way. I'm not a professional but i like this. I wouldn't change anything :) and i think "the magnificient Madigan" is the perfect title :)

[William Yasanari Harris]

Thank you for those kind words. I should be posting chapter XI and XII this weekend. I'll let you know. After those two chapters, the posting of new chapters will come slower. Sorry. Probably post a story I wrote six years ago--after I finish rewrite--next weekend.

PS: Are you in Lebanon?

[Amanda Moubarak]

Yes please let me know :) oh okay no problem :) and yeah sure i'll read that too !! I also may not be able to check in all the time cause next week i'll start my semester but i'll keep reading from time to time of course.
(Yes i'm in Lebanon😊)