Her Thirties Part 46

I was having breakfast with Abe and even though he dropped a bomb on me saying the police protection for Marilyn and me had come to an end, I understood and forgave him—even felt sorry for him for having to break the bad news.

When we got out in the sunshine, I was glad we came. The sky was filled with huge white cumulus clouds and although it was March I peeled off my coat and Abe did the same.

I couldn’t believe the biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his tight red tee shirt.

“You must work out,” I said, pointing to his arms.

“Naw—back in university, but not lately.”

“Hey, Professor Lennox!”

I turned to see a gangly, college student approach me. I recognized Ed Harkness, one of my students and a receiver on the Varsity Blues Football team.

“Out for a little exercise, Prof?”

Abe smiled broadly, enjoying my discomfiture.

“Why don’t you guys join us in a friendly game of touch football? We’re missing our quarterback and our other receiver.”

Before I could decline, Abe blurted out, “Sure, we’d be glad to, wouldn’t we Scott?”

I nodded sheepishly and within minutes we were being introduced to the four other fellows on our team.

“Can you quarterback for us, Abe?” asked Ned.

“I think I can throw a bit. Why don’t we start with a few short curls?”

“Sounds great!” Ned chirped.

As we got ready to scrimmage I whispered to Abe, “Hey, what’s a curl?”

“Are ya kidding? I thought you were a jock. All you do is run out about ten yards and stop and crouch—if you’re open, the ball will be right in your breadbasket.”

I nodded as if I got it. It sounded dumb to me. But when I heard Abe yell Hup, I took off and then stopped short, turned around and had the wind knocked out of me.

The ball was thrown like a torpedo and drilled right into my solar plexus. Fortunately, I was able to hang on.

“Whoop! Way to go Scottie!” Abe called out, dancing around like a boxer, warming up.

I painfully made my way back.

“Got winded, eh?” Abe asked sympathetically. “The next one will go to Ned.”

The same play resulted in another ten-yard gain. Abe was rubbing his hands together and looked really hyped.

“Okay,” he said in the huddle, “ a post pattern. Look Scott, I don’t care what pattern you run, just end up beside the right post in about ten steamboats—Got that?”

It seemed easy enough. One thing I could always do was run.

When I heard Abe’s Hup! I was gone like a racehorse out of the gate. I was down the field in seven steamboats, curled in and headed for the goal post.

The ball was thrown in such a high beautiful arc, I almost stopped to admire its spiraling trajectory. When I got to the post, I just had to reach up and pull it in to my chest.

“Oh man, that was sweet!” Ned gushed. Then, he stopped, took a long look at Abe and said, “You’re Abe Rosen, aren’t you?”

Abe grinned and nodded.

“Guys—this is the famous Abe Rosen who quarterbacked for the Blues in 2010. You remember—we were in grade nine and the coach took us to that game?”

The looks of recognition said it all. Abe was a hero to them.

The rest of the game was spent with Ned and the boys doing obeisance to Abe. After we handily won the match, they wanted to hoist some draft with us, but I wisely declined, citing a heavy load of term papers.

Actually, the heavy load I was facing involved defending Marilyn from a stalker, all by myself, without Abe’s help. I knew then I was in over my head.

To be continued...


© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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Part 45