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Show Blue Run/38 keeps in his office to this day of Renee then, that year, 70. It's a profile shot; her hair shines down her back, straight and sleek, framing the flawless face that seems about to smile, but doesn't. Her shirt is long-sleeved white, worn outside her jeans. She's sitting and her arms are long and slender and capable of much work and love. The hazel eyes stare out, at the photographer I guess, and accuse or ask why am I here, or maybe just fuck Off, which Renee's prone to be thinking-I've got a zillion pictures of her flipping off the camera But Cap's photo, the one he keeps on his desk, it's stone cold Friday nights that October, the Goose Creek Gators would stomp the shit out of whatever cross-town rival and Sammy Davido'd rush for a hundred-and-eighty yards and score with the halfback pass. On the cinder track surrounded by Cheer Gators, she'd actually watch the game, see him looking at her from tailback position, through his face mask, the mouthpiece making his lips bulge The carnival was in town, Homecoming week, and she was one of the Maids with a red corsage and two extra tampons in Sammy's letter jacket. That night held the thrill of overtime against the Oceanside Panthers. Goose Creek won by running Sammy up the middle-through the eight hole. Just before the big play, he'd stared straight at her-those dark eyes through her, it seemed~up on the glittery float with the White Goose Queen. Then he ran flat over the noseman for six points and got carried around on a lineman's shoulders. The war was about to end-there'd be no draft, the boy's on the field wouldn't get killed by gooks in the jungle, Sammy'd said. She'd lept off the float and the cinder track was spongy beneath her feet, it made her knees go funny and the game was over. The R.O.T.C. cannon went off on the visitor's side and the band played the fight song loud into the fall night Her and Sammy skipped out of the Homecoming dance night after one slow number and drove to the quarry where the drowned girl's ghost had knocked on |