Page 20 of The Sky in Summer
5
Van
Ignoring my ball sack pain, I navigate around the obstacles like a mofo on a mission. The floodlights illuminate the field and spotlight my athletic prowess. I’m dodging the plastic train caboose through a Patron heavy fog, and the stuffed green Kermit dude at the end of the course is in sight. He has one eye on me. The other one is missing. I raise two arms in victory as I reach the finish line. Layla must be worried.
“Beat that, Boom Boom!” I call across the lawn.
She looks at the timer and smiles behind half-mast eyes. Why the too sure of herself expression?
“I don’t think it will be a problem. Let’s see. Your time is six minutes, twenty-four seconds.”
I sprint back to where she stands. At least it felt like a sprint. I may have walked.
“What are you talking about? That wasn’t more than a minute!”
She turns the face of my cell to me, proving the numbers.
“That’s bullshit! I call foul! You messed up, somehow.”
She rises to her greatest height. On tipsy tiptoes to make the point.
“Your time started at the first obstacle. You didnotstart over, you continued through the course. We spoke about the rules earlier and you agreed. If you can remember back that far.”
My hands raise in the time out signal.
“Permission to spank the scorekeeper!” I yell to the line judge on the sidelines.
Layla doesn’t acknowledge my imaginary friend.
“Permission denied! Now get out of the way. It’s my turn.”
“I am going to file an official complaint!”
“With who? The Kindergarten Olympic Committee? They went to bed with their binkie hours ago.”
“Give me that,” I say, taking the cell.
Just as we are passing the phone, I get a call from Donna. Layla sees the name.
“Better get it, Rowdy. You’re going to be out on the range for awhile.”
“It’s just a friend. No need,” I say, deleting the call.
That was the most sober thought I have had in the last few hours.
Layla approaches her spot.
“Let me get in place. Then do the countdown.”
She moves to the starting line, made of a red ribbon, and nods.
“Three…two…one! Go!” I holler.
Instead of the fast start I am expecting, Layla walks leisurely, passing each toy or obstacle in an exaggerated stroll. She’s looking at her nails, then the moon, and she’s laughing.
“That’s bullshit! You have to run!”
Turning her head to me, she answers, “There are no rules which state that I can’t walk the course. I won’t fall this way. Don’t be a sore loser.”
