Short Story: Leave No Doubt
(something I’ve been working on)
Leave No Doubt
“Can you believe it?” Sam raised a glass of champagne.
His wife smiled to herself as she typed a message into her phone.
He continued to hold the glass up as she put the phone in her purse and surveyed the restaurant.
The restaurant was full that night, like it was every night. They sat at a table along the back wall. Deep, dark, hardwood tables, ironwork and crystal goblets compete for the limited lighting. It was warm, which the female patrons enjoyed, but not quite hot enough to force the men into removing their jackets. The smell of braised lamb wafted in from nearby. The lights were low and they were surrounded by steady hum of conversation pierced with clinking silverware. Everyone looked vaguely familiar to Sam, but he didn’t recognize anyone and no one seemed to recognize him.
He cleared his throat, brought the glass down and set his jaw. Shrugged his shoulders to himself, took a small sip and forced a smile.
“How are the kids?”
“No news. I really like this sitter. She’s adorable. Carol found her by posting at the university and. . .,” her voice melded into the hum of conversation around him.
A half smile snuck across his face as he looked at her. He conjured up their first date. They stopped to visit his gang at the park. As could have been predicted, what started as a picnic, had turned into a game of football. Maybe this was a mistake, he thought, but as he hurriedly touched base with his people, he noticed that she had left his side.
All heads were turned to watch her long, lean frame step into a throw and launch a rocket downfield to a sprinting teenager. You could have heard a pin drop.
The debutante threw spirals. Who knew?
“Chief, you’re punching way above your weight class,” came a whisper from behind him. Sam never turned to see who it was. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
When they entered the restaurant tonight, heads turned. Just like they always did. The blueblood in her little black dress, and the beast from the wrong side of the tracks wrapped up in a suit. Quite the couple.
He shook his head and focused.
“Wait, who are we talking about now?” he asked.
“What?” she paused and looked up at the waiter who stood over them, patiently waiting for his instructions.
A commotion came from the front of the restaurant.
A slight gentleman was in a deep embrace with a giant, well-dressed man that Sam recognized as the owner of the restaurant. It wasn’t unusual for the local celebrities to make an appearance here, and as the embrace broke apart, the owner showed off his new prize. They smiled and shook hands with everyone present. From this distance it was hard to tell exactly who was causing the fuss, but once the visitor turned toward them, the thick black frames of his glasses gave him away.
Sam’s wife made a gasping sound.
The waiter smiled, leaned in, and said, “Yes. That’s the head football coach of State University and his lovely wife. They come in here every Friday. Wonderful couple.”
“My husband used to play for Coach Hermen,” Sam’s wife offered in return.
She surprised herself with that statement. She wasn’t one to brag about his gridiron glory days, but it popped out here and there. Her father hadn’t approved of the courtship or the union, but once Sam got his first paid coaching job, and especially after the grandbabies showed up, daddy was less obvious with his contempt.
She looked to Sam as he sat back in his seat and took a deep breath, smiling to himself.
The waiter raised his eyebrows, nodded his approval toward Sam’s past accomplishments, took their order and vanished into the crowd.
“You know,” Sam said, “I owe everything to those two.”
His wife’s shoulders were up as they continued watching the coaching couple make their way around the restaurant with the effusive owner.
“Everything. You. The kids. The house. The new job. All of it. They made me who I am today.”
She reached for her glass of champagne, thought about it, then pushed it aside, grabbing the water goblet and sat back in her chair. Knowing what was coming.
“I’m sure I’ve told you this,” he said, “but when I was in eighth grade, Coach H. had just started at State. The program was a mess. No one knew anything about him.” Sam was getting a faraway look in his eyes. “Everyone was excited to have him here in our little town, but no one knew if he was going to stick around. Especially once he started winning.” He sat back and drifted into his thoughts.
She contemplated the etched goblet in her hand, turning it in the low light as he spoke.
“I won a scholarship to his first summer camp and he. . .,”
“I know,” she put the goblet down and smoothed the middle of her dress after picking some lint from it. He looked at her with his mouth slightly open. She raised an eyebrow, pursed her lips and made a gesture toward him to continue.
He raised his eyebrows and took a breath, “I was getting yelled at, and, I can’t believe I still remember this, I was pissed because it felt like I was the only one getting his ass chewed. The only one making mistakes. And I let that coach know it.” Sam shook his head and clenched his fist.
She straightened the silverware next to her plate.
“That man over there. That man,” his eyes moistened, “he walked over, grabbed my facemask, looked me in the eye and said, ‘Son, I like that fire, but I suggest you consider this: Things work out best for the man who makes the best of the way things work out.’”
Sam let that hang in the air, like he always did.
“I had no idea what it meant at the time, but I figured it out.”
He grabbed a piece of bread and ripped into it.
”Plus, I was never that close to my folks.”
She shifted in her seat.
“No loss. I had Coach and Mrs. H.,” he said while some breadcrumbs escaped from his mouth. He absentmindedly pawed them to the floor.
He sat upright and scanned the restaurant as a new thought occurred, “Maybe we should invite them over?”
A look of concern flashed across her face but was gone in an instant.
“I’m sure they don’t have time for that. Plus, I don’t think his wife likes me.”
“Come on. Mrs. H’s never had a bad thought about anyone.”
Sam’s wife raised her eyebrows and started to roll her eyes.
The waiter and his assistants arrived with the first of their plates. Enormous, heavy, pottery with tiny colorful morsels of expertly prepared foods. The waiter patiently described the arrangements in a slow, deliberate way, while they inhaled the fragrances and nodded their approval. As he finished, the owner materialized with the Coach and his wife.
“Pardon me, Mr. Sam, I hadn’t noticed that you and your lovely wife were dining with us tonight,” he said with a slight bow to Sam’s wife. “Mrs. H. noticed you and wanted to say hello.”
Sam and his wife stood up to greet the couple before them. Coach Hermen was dwarfed by Sam, but as they clasped hands and half hugged, the difference seemed to disappear. The Coach was dressed as usual; a sensible white button down oxford shirt, black pants and black athletic shoes with white stripes. He wore a State University jacket made of navy blue worsted wool with leather sleeves. His jet-black hair, normally under a State U ball cap, was slicked back that night. He looked up at Sam with eyes set a little too close together, accentuated by dark frames and thick lenses. A wide smile revealed the familiar silver and gold dental work from a time before porcelains.
Sam’s wife exchanged cold, light pleasantries with Mrs. H. The tall, elegant, slender blonde next to a petite, stylish, woman who held her purse close, like a small bumper against unwanted contact. Mrs. H. had a local reputation nearly as legendary as the Coach’s national fame, because it was no secret that she made the operation hum. Sam had told his wife stories of Mrs. H. barging into a locker room full of half-naked men scrambling for cover and demanding to have a word with the captains following a loss. A lion wrapped in a wealthy librarian’s skin.
Mrs. H. lit up when Sam turned to her and placed a light peck on her cheek. She clasped his meaty palm with one hand and reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of the other. The Coach was equally as enamored of Sam’s wife, who looked uncomfortable when she leaned down for his kisses hello.
“We just wanted to say hi,” the Coach said, “Mrs. H. insisted. We’ll let you get back to celebrating your good news.”
Sam looked surprised. The Coach smiled his goofy silver grin.
“Hermen,” his wife said, and gently punched him on the shoulder. “Samuel, you should know that Coach knows everyone and he heard about your new coaching assignment. There are no secrets when it comes to our players.” She glanced at Sam’s wife who turned toward the table. “We’ll leave you two to your dinner, but I insist that you join us in the lounge when you finish.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. His wife made a slight grimmace.
“Will that be alright with your dear?” Mrs. H. said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam’s wife replied with a quick smile.
“That settles it. We’ll see you then.” The older couple toddled off into the crowd, stopping to visit with well-wishers along the way.
“That was excellent,” Sam said, as he placed his fork and knife on the plate, to signify completion. His side of the table displayed two large plates between three smaller plates and one bowl. All empty.
His wife pushed a small, orange, pebble like piece of food back and forth, from the asparagus to the filet, on her single dish. “I don’t want to do this,” she half-whispered.
They sat there for a moment, letting the comment hang amidst the murmurs of conversation, sounds of dishes touching mixed with pops of laughter.
“Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”
“I told you, that woman doesn’t like me. And listening to you and Coach Hermen trade stories. I just can’t do it. Not tonight.” She reached in her purse for her phone.
Sam sat and fiddled with his napkin as the table is cleared.
“Just thirty minutes.”
“I can’t,” she said a little louder.
He leaned forward while scanning the room to see if anyone heard the outburst, only to look up and see his wife had stood up and was straightening her dress. “Where are you going?”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, and grabbed her purse.
Sam furrowed his massive brow, and his thick fingers went back to tormenting his napkin.
Sam’s wife looked at herself in the large oval mirror. She leaned in to check the corners of her mouth after freshening her lipstick. As she leaned back, she turned to the side and pressed her hand against a slight protrusion around her stomach. Her mouth showed a trace of a frown.
“You look as lovely as ever.”
She took a step back and looked into the sitting area. On the round red couch sat Mrs. H., checking her lips in the mirror of a small lipstick holder.
Sam’s wife stood in the doorway and looked at Mrs. H., her frown a little more pronounced, her hand on her hip.
“Well?”
“Well what, dear?” Mrs. H. said.
“Well, if you’re expecting me to sit there like a happy housewife, I can’t do it.” She shook her head, “I can’t listen to them tonight. I just can’t do it.”
Mrs. H. calmly put the lipstick back in its case and carefully placed it in her purse. She looked up and continued her gaze to the chandelier hanging in the corner. She turned back to Sam’s wife.
“Come sit here,” she said, patting the settee with her dainty hand. Her fingers were loaded with diamonds and when she reached out, the sparkle of her watch threw tiny diamond shaped rainbows on to the red upholstery.
Sam’s wife waited in silence as the coach’s wife continued to pat the seat in her gently rhythmic way. An elegant red, close-lipped smile on her face. Sam’s wife took in Mrs. H’s face for what seemed like the first time; the narrow blue eyes, the small nose that seemed to disappear into her cheeks and mouth, the rounded chin. She caught a whiff of the perfume. A hard to describe smell that has a soapy note with just a hint of floral. The smell of her grandmother. The pat-pat-pat continued as Sam’s wife loosened herself from the moorings of the doorway and clicked her shoes on the wood floor toward the seat.
“Now, tell me, what is it that you can’t do, dear?”
“I just. . .I just can’t,” her lower lip began to quiver.
Mrs. H. reached up and gently patted Sam’s wife’s head down into her lap as the sobbing began.
“There, there.” Pat-pat-pat. The scent of her grandmother filled her nose and her eyes closed as the tears spilled from her eyes into the soft gray, pink, and white weave of Mrs. H’s suit. “We make choices, dear,” she stroked Sam’s wife’s long blonde hair, “we have to make the best of the way things work out.”
Sam’s wife stiffened, slowly raised her head and looked into Mrs. H’s eyes. She saw a hand come up toward her face with a small, lacy handkerchief, which she took and dabbed to the corners of her eye. Her mouth began to work itself open, but Mrs. H’s fingers gently pressed it shut.
“This is what’s going to happen, dear,” she said and maneuvered her handkerchief back into her purse. “You are going to go to your husband and remind him that you need to get back to relieve the new babysitter right now, so you’ll have to take a rain-check on visiting with us in the lounge.”
Sam’s wife furrowed her brow.
Mrs. H. fastened the clasp on her purse with a click, “And while poor Sam processes what you’re saying, I will bring Coach Hermen over we will take a rain-check on the evening.”
“But what about . . ?”
“What about what, dear?”
Mrs. H’s blue eyes went dark.
“As we discussed, once you have the kids tucked in and the babysitter home, you will go over to that man’s house. This is ending tonight.”
Sam’s wife tried to swallow, and gripped the edge of the seat.
Mrs. H. continued, “You are making the right decision. I will be there to support you.”
Sam’s wife grew rigid. “You’ll be where?”
“I’ll be there. You can count on that.”
Sam’ wife felt an icy cold creep up the back of her scalp.
“Remember, Coach Hermen says, ‘failure isn’t fatal, but failure to change might be.’”
Sam’s wife bit her lip.
“And once you’ve gone, I will visit that man, and encourage him to make a change.” Mrs. H stood up and began to adjust her skirt and her hair in the large floor mirror.
“It’s time for him to go. We don’t need his kind at State. I’ll make sure he recommends Sam for his position, and Coach will be happy to bring Sam on board.” She touched the corners of her lips and looks into the mirror at Sam’s wife.
“In ten days, you’ll announce your big news to Sam,” Mrs. H. said as Sam’s wife absentmindedly touched her stomach, “and you two will come back here to celebrate.”
Both women took a breath.
“Coach and I will join you and things will go on.
“Let’s go.”
Mrs. H. stood to the side while Sam’s wife adjusted herself in the mirror, checked her eyes, smiled into the mirror, and wiped some lipstick off a tooth. She stood back and smoothed her dress with a deep breath.
The women open the door, let the hum of the restaurant wash over them and walk out.