the same floor as Andy and his family and as Roni and Scott stepped out of the elevator, he and Mollie were in front of it, tapping on the door.
“There you are!” Andy said. “You guys want to come down for a drink? It looks like my folks bought out a bar.”
Scott started to beg off, but Roni answered for them. “We’d love to! Put the groceries away, dear,” she said, handing the pizza to Andy, hooking arms with Mollie and heading down hall, skipping like 8-year olds. They were already friends.
“I am just fucking amazed,” Scott said. “I’m not sure which is harder to believe, that she drove 800 miles to be here or that you, the boys and Alexander were all in on this, and I didn’t figure it out.”
“When she sent the letter to me,” Andy said, “she said she had this week off and had wanted to go through Kansas anyway. And she figured you’d pretty much shit; which you did, by the way. Best part was Alexander walking up with the pass.”
“Amazing,” Scott said as he and Andy followed their ladies down the hall. “Fucking amazing.”
After about 45 minutes, they walked back down the hall to their room. They had fun with the Days, listening to the boys’ BCT stories, but Roni and Scott had their own dinner plans. Scott put the key in the door and opened it. They walked in and Scott promptly did a back flop onto the bed. There was a big cooler with beer and wine, a bag of food that looked like his mom had packed it, and in the corner was his guitar case.
“Got my guitar tuned, huh?” Scott asked with a sly smile.
“Mark said it needed it,” she said. “I brought the Ovation.”
“Want to hear something really stupid?” he said, staring peacefully at the ceiling. “Once I realized we were spending the night here, one of the first things I thought was, ‘wow, I get to sleep in a real bed!’”
Roni climbed on to the edge of the bed, crawled over and kissed him and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Sleep?” she said. “Why don’t you go take a shower, while I get dinner ready. I put something in there for you to wear.”
The shower felt incredible. It was the first time in months he had privacy in the shower, and he really enjoyed it. He took his time.
On the edge of the sink, wrapped in a towel, was his change of clothes. It was his old UNC football t-shirt and his burgundy WHHS wrestling shorts. After he dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. Besides his long hair missing, he actually looked like Scott Mitchell again. And she had done it.
He walked back into the room. She had neatly hung his khakis on a hanger so they’d be ready for the next day. He looked into the room, and thought, “She’s really outdone herself.”
She’d pulled a night table down so it was about in the middle of the bed instead of the head. A small Styrofoam cooler, filled with ice and two bottles of Strawberry Hill sat on the night table. There were candles everywhere. The pizza was sitting in the middle of the bed with paper plates, and wine glasses sitting in the open pizza lid.
At the head of the king-sized bed was Roni. She had changed into Scott’s jersey and her black ski socks. She sat crossed-legged, propped up by a pillow, playing John Denver’s “This Old Guitar.” She had played when they were younger, but it had been years since he’d seen a guitar in her hands.
“Hello sir,” she said, setting the guitar next to the bed. “I’ve been practicing. And your dinner is ready.”
Scott smiled and sat down opposite her on the foot of the bed. “Why thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Can I interest you in some wine?”
She nodded and smiled. “You’re so gracious,” she said, her eyes dancing.
They talked, they drank wine and ate pizza. They talked about the future and the past and the present. Roni finally reached over and grabbed his guitar.
“Play me a song, Footer,” she said. “I love hearing you sing.”
Scott took the guitar and fingered the strings. It felt
“There you are!” Andy said. “You guys want to come down for a drink? It looks like my folks bought out a bar.”
Scott started to beg off, but Roni answered for them. “We’d love to! Put the groceries away, dear,” she said, handing the pizza to Andy, hooking arms with Mollie and heading down hall, skipping like 8-year olds. They were already friends.
“I am just fucking amazed,” Scott said. “I’m not sure which is harder to believe, that she drove 800 miles to be here or that you, the boys and Alexander were all in on this, and I didn’t figure it out.”
“When she sent the letter to me,” Andy said, “she said she had this week off and had wanted to go through Kansas anyway. And she figured you’d pretty much shit; which you did, by the way. Best part was Alexander walking up with the pass.”
“Amazing,” Scott said as he and Andy followed their ladies down the hall. “Fucking amazing.”
After about 45 minutes, they walked back down the hall to their room. They had fun with the Days, listening to the boys’ BCT stories, but Roni and Scott had their own dinner plans. Scott put the key in the door and opened it. They walked in and Scott promptly did a back flop onto the bed. There was a big cooler with beer and wine, a bag of food that looked like his mom had packed it, and in the corner was his guitar case.
“Got my guitar tuned, huh?” Scott asked with a sly smile.
“Mark said it needed it,” she said. “I brought the Ovation.”
“Want to hear something really stupid?” he said, staring peacefully at the ceiling. “Once I realized we were spending the night here, one of the first things I thought was, ‘wow, I get to sleep in a real bed!’”
Roni climbed on to the edge of the bed, crawled over and kissed him and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Sleep?” she said. “Why don’t you go take a shower, while I get dinner ready. I put something in there for you to wear.”
The shower felt incredible. It was the first time in months he had privacy in the shower, and he really enjoyed it. He took his time.
On the edge of the sink, wrapped in a towel, was his change of clothes. It was his old UNC football t-shirt and his burgundy WHHS wrestling shorts. After he dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. Besides his long hair missing, he actually looked like Scott Mitchell again. And she had done it.
He walked back into the room. She had neatly hung his khakis on a hanger so they’d be ready for the next day. He looked into the room, and thought, “She’s really outdone herself.”
She’d pulled a night table down so it was about in the middle of the bed instead of the head. A small Styrofoam cooler, filled with ice and two bottles of Strawberry Hill sat on the night table. There were candles everywhere. The pizza was sitting in the middle of the bed with paper plates, and wine glasses sitting in the open pizza lid.
At the head of the king-sized bed was Roni. She had changed into Scott’s jersey and her black ski socks. She sat crossed-legged, propped up by a pillow, playing John Denver’s “This Old Guitar.” She had played when they were younger, but it had been years since he’d seen a guitar in her hands.
“Hello sir,” she said, setting the guitar next to the bed. “I’ve been practicing. And your dinner is ready.”
Scott smiled and sat down opposite her on the foot of the bed. “Why thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Can I interest you in some wine?”
She nodded and smiled. “You’re so gracious,” she said, her eyes dancing.
They talked, they drank wine and ate pizza. They talked about the future and the past and the present. Roni finally reached over and grabbed his guitar.
“Play me a song, Footer,” she said. “I love hearing you sing.”
Scott took the guitar and fingered the strings. It felt
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