Page 9 of Hell Bent
“So you took the jewels and ran,” I said. “What happened to the necklace and brooch, then?”
“I sold them,” she said, “and I wasn’t sorry. I was glad to have them. Gladmy father had shown me where he’d hidden them, that he’d told me that if I had to run, I should take the parure. ‘Take it, hide it, run, and don’t look back,’ he said. “Run to the west.”I didn’t want to hear it, but he was right. He and my mother had had their lives, ss I’ve had mine. Your life is what matters now.”
My throat was so tight, I couldn’t speak. I’d felt oddly numb all day, but I was finally feeling something. I was feeling too much. “Thank you,” I said, taking her hand gently in mine. “For telling me.”
She put the earrings and their pouch into my hand, and I stared at them there. “Wear them now,” she said. “That’s the tradition. They’re only earrings. Only things, but they signify something important. Your lineage, the good and the bad of it. Half of the things that made you what you are. Your mother’s half.”
“A German princess and an American Jew,” I said. “An odd couple. But it worked, right? You don’t have to be the same to be married.”
“It worked,” she said. “There are many ways to be happy. Growing to love a man is one way. It’s not easy to love when the feeling has been burnt out of you with the horror, but the feeling can come back. When there’s space, the love will come.”
“So I should tell myself that?” I wasn’t putting the earrings in, somehow, and my dad was knocking at the door. Then I heard the click of the lock and knew it was time.
“No,” my grandmother said. “You shouldn’t tell yourself anything. You should listen to yourself instead.”
4
OUT OF THE BLUE
Sebastian
“Robillard,” Bob Lomax, the 49ers’ general manager, was standing in the locker room. “Come see me a minute, will you?”
There wasn’t any joking dished out, like you might expect. Every player knew what that request meant, and they looked away like they hoped it wasn’t contagious.
Well, damn. I would’ve liked to play out the season, at least. Looked like I wasn’t even going to play the Chargers on Sunday.
I said, “Be there as soon as I’m dressed.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I wasn’t having it. Nobody was going to rush me on this one.
I could have said, “It’s not fair,” or thought it, but I wasn’t eight years old. I’d kicked well, sure, but kickers got moved around the league like pawns on a chessboard. That was how it was. It wasn’t your glamour position, but fortunately or unfortunately, it was what I was good at.
Five minutes later, I was tossing my duffel to the floor andtaking a seat in Bob’s office. I crossed one ankle over a knee for good measure. What the hell.
“You’re waived,” Bob said. “And the Portland Devils want to pick you up.”
No reprieve, then. I said, “And yet I’m at eighty-three percent for the season, and I’ve done better than that lately. Made a fifty-three yarder at the whistle last week.”
“You’re on a streak, yeah,” Bob said, “and the Devils lost their kicker yesterday. Tore his hamstring in practice.”
“Lousy for him,” I said. “Who’s replacing me?”
“None of your business,” he said, “but you’ll find out soon enough. Colt Hammersmith.”
“Colt Hammersmith can’t kick for fifty-three,” I said.
“Maybe not,” Bob said, “but he’s consistent.”
“Because they don’t put him out there for the long ones,” I said. “I think this has more to do with the salary cap, and you looking to shore up that offensive line so the QB isn’t getting sacked into next week every other play. Robertson’s getting a serious case of happy feet, and you don’t want him injured or losing his mojo for nothing. Who’re you planning to pick up? Left tackle?”
“If you’re so smart,” Bob said, “you’d think you’d be smart enough to shut up.”
“Not that smart,” I said. “Not so far.”
“See Aaron,” Bob said. “He’s got your paperwork.”
“When do they want me up there?” I asked. “They’ve got a bye this week, don’t they?”
