Page 141 of The Cheerleader

Before Harry reaches the front door, I see him coming up the walk and meet him outside.

“Hey, tough guy.” He shakes my hand. “Where’s your coat?”

“No need.” I don’t have an overcoat to wear over my suit. The only jacket I have doesn’t work, but I don’t see a need to explain all that to him as I settle into the passenger seat.

“We’re eating at Chuck’s Steak House,” he says. “It’s right near here. They wanted to make it as easy as possible for you. Pretty classy, eh?”

I nod and reserve judgment.

At lunch, the food’s good, and I eat more than my fill. The two representatives of the 49ers do a lot of smiling and laugh at my cheesy attempts at humor, but so what? I’m not a mind reader. In the end, I still need to wait for the draft, then wait for a signed contract, and a check in my hand.

It’s a day later when my grades come in the mail, and I call Susie.

“I got my grades.”

“How did you do?” Her voice is excited and hopeful making I smile.

“B minus in English Comp.” I don’t tell her I got straight A’s in all my other classes.

“That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you, Bryan—not that I have any right⁠—”

“Yes you do. I would have settled for a C plus otherwise.”

She laughs. “I didn’t think settling for anything was in your character.”

Her words strike home like a punch to my soul. I grunt. “You got an A, didn’t you?”

There’s a pause before she admits to it.

“You got a 4.0, didn’t you?”

This time her laugh is nervous. “Yes. My parents are thrilled.”

“I’m proud of you, Susie. You should be proud of yourself. Try bragging sometime.”

“That’s not me. Besides, no one likes a bragger.”

“Brag to me.” I whisper. I’ll like you no matter what. I should say it out loud.

Instead, I invites her to come for a visit without mentioning the draft. She tells me she’s going to visit with her aunt, then she’s going to CA next week to visit her parents until the semester starts.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding like she means it.

“I’m busy too.” I don’t bother mentioning the meeting with the recruiters. It’s a meaningless event. No signed contract yet.

“So I guess the NFL draft is coming up soon,” she says, surprising me. “I’m crossing my fingers and praying for you, Bryan, not that you need it, but I can’t help myself. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much as I want for you, after all your hard work, and your promise to Caleb, to play in the NFL.”

Her words jolt me with an arc of intense pleasure that strikes me in the heart. “Don’t worry about me.” My words are automatic, but not what I need to say.

“Well, I have to go⁠—”

“I… appreciate your prayers. Even if I don’t believe in prayers, yours are different because there’s something special about you rooting for me.”

“Bryan…” Her voice is breathy, and I tense up, anticipating what she’ll say next, always worried she’s going to pull the plug on me, on us, because I’m so not good for her, too heavy with baggage and darkness.

“I’ll always be your special cheerleader. You’re the person I’ll cheer the hardest for, always, no matter what.”

Her words are close enough to what Liz has said to me that I feel a stab of pain. But Susie’s words are more real. They have the weight of genuine spirit, authentic and without bravado because she gets it for real; it’s baked into her bones with her life experience. She has no baggage tainting her soul.