Robofootball: Doublespin

Six days later on a Saturday after the big game, Carly came knocking on Antwan’s door. Ann Arbor to Royal Oak was only about a 45-minute drive, maybe an hour if traffic was heavy. Carly lived in a rental home with 7 roommates. The old two story home had 2 bedrooms on the 1st floor, 4 on the 2nd, 1 in the attic, and 2 in the basement. There was one vacancy for the attic unit. Rent was on average $700 a month per room, a little less for the attic and basement units, more for the others. The owner of the home like many in good-size college towns across America, made a mint converting them to student housing. Since she was a sophomore now, she was no longer regulated to the dorm and could live off campus with a car no less. It was winter, the Camaro garaged back at home in Harrison as she drove the more snow-worthy but much more ordinary front wheel drive Cruze.

Jess yanked open the door before she could knock a second time. They were hugging and kissing as Jess hung on with one clutched hand on the porch rail to keep his balance. His shoulder had been dislocated but at least his ankle had not been broken; on the other hand, the ankle had swollen up to the size of an overstuffed Christmas stocking. Carly was crying and Jess had tears in his eyes, not caring for the moment as to whether or not it was manly to do so. What he didn’t let on to right away was that her desperate squeeze-the-life-out-of-you hug set his shoulder and ribs on fire and aided his eyes in watering. When she released him he almost fell over and managed to step back for his crutches.

“Hi!”

“How are you?” She said somewhat over and simultaneous with him, “Hi,” but they spoke together again.

“You first,” Jess managed to say trying not to sound too gaspy from his sore ribs.

“Jess, are you okay? She noticed the crutches as he looped them under his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, just some clumsiness during rehab, trying to get my balance back, you know, trying to do too much at once. You could say I’ve taken a couple of hits, er, or falls,” he corrected.

“Dang, it’s like you’ve been playing football again,” she joked.

“Yeah, feels just like it!” Jess laughed which hurt his ribs.

“Now come awn Jess, you get dat po girl in da house outta da cold,” Gramma ordered.

“Okay Gramma,” Jess said. Antwan appeared holding the door with his right prosthetic arm so that Jess could slide in with his crutches and Carly behind him.

Gramma cooked a big pot roast with carrots and potatoes along with a pan of butternut squash with enough butter and brown sugar to put one into a diabetic coma, but it was still good if a bit rich. She topped it off with a nice homemade pecan pie that was as sweet as a fudge sundae with mountains of whipped cream and a front end loader full of colorful sugary sprinkles on top.

Up in his room, Jess gave her a full injury report, light concussion, 5 broken ribs, slightly dislocated right shoulder, and a severely sprained left ankle. She pulled off his shirt and was amazed at what she saw, and it wasn’t just the purplish bruises that she observed.

“My god Jess, you’ve, you’ve, filled out some,” she finally said. He was ripped all right, more like an 8-pack than a 6-pack under some impressive pectoral muscles.

“You know rehab, I’ve been working out a lot.”

“I’m still on the pill you know,” she said slyly.

“Yeah,” he grinned and massaged the bandages about his ribs, “I am a little tired you know!”

“Perfect!” She giggled, “It’d be like doing a mummy.” They both laughed.

“Okay, but take it real easy, okay?”

“Yes Jess, I’ve got a few cobwebs myself to get rid of, it’s been a long time.” She slid her top off and then pressed him on his back using his good shoulder. She showered him with kisses along every part of his face. Heaven in its purest form returned for them. With Jess subdued and unable to move much without hurting somewhere, the climactic moment came for her before him as her brain lit up as much as it had for him on Christmas morning when his memories came flooding back. They’d both be sore in the morning. At the urging of Gramma, she would be a frequent overnighter on or about every other weekend.

“Loose Lips Sink Ships.”

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