The Trigger Effect
© 2005 By Ken Glassmeyer
© 2005 By Ken Glassmeyer
CHAPTER SIX
Brianna brushed back her giddiness at Frank's smile. She had known him as the teacher and coach of her son as a booster and PTA president, but over the last few days she had come to admire him greatly and was even feeling a bit of a school girl crush for the man. He was not the rough and gruff man that most people first thougt he was when they met him. Underneath that jock exterior was a heart of a poet. In fact, he had reminded her of one of her old boyfriends in college. Those were happy days; days that happened before she had met Sir's father.
The hurt of those memories swelled up in her and her eyes crinkled in attempt to block tears before they leaked from the corner of her eyes. All she wanted was rest and maybe some brief happiness. It seemed so unfair that any warm thought was instantly swallowed by the bile of the past. She had met Sir's father when she was senior in college. They had been married in a fever that was quick and fast, but also toxic, like any fever that accompanies a sickness. She had kept most of the truth from Brewster, but knew one day she would have to answer his questions. He had so many. Of course, not even knowing your father could do that to a young man. Sir's father had walked out of their life before Sir had even been born, and he had died in the streets before Sir had even been able to be baptized.
Brianna sighed and thought with sadness, "live by the sword, die by the sword," only the swords of today were lead and gunpowder that allowed the slightest rage to explode into action. Any fool could pull a trigger. Brianna thought about all of this as she looked about the hospital room at these young men that had been lucky enough to find two real men to bond with. It was no secret in the community that these coaches were the only fathers some of these kids would ever know. It was with that thought that she allowed their rowdy behavior to continue a bit longer, despite the frown from her supervisor who had leaned into the room to remind everyone that this was a hospital, not a stadium.
She smiled at these boys and men as they seemed to revel in their maleness. She had thought she had soured on the male gender as a result of that crazy time in her life when she ran around with Barry Brewster and his band of wannabe revolutionaries that spent more time sitting around watching Sanford and Son reruns and getting high than attending college classes or even organizing effective campus demonstrations. None of them had been real men. Not one of them backed up her husband, in his one moment of valor when had actually tried to do some good, but was gunned down by punks in the street. They had actually ran past her, a pregnant woman, and never looked back. Her experiences during those years had wounded her to the point that it took her almost ten years to even date again. That was just fine by her, for the longest time her lovely son was the only man she thought she would ever need in her life.
Brianna watched as the men and boys interacted and smiled. She especially noticed her son and Frank. Her insides tingled. The woman inside her ached for Frank while the mother inside her saw a real father for her son.
"Err. . .sorry there coach," Brewster moved his hand away from the coach's violent gaze and hid it behind his back, "but really, aren't you supposed to try and stop being so mean and grumpy all the time?"
Grabowski nodded at his quarterback. "That is what you might think—I did too at first—but what they really mean is that I should just let it flow a little bit at a time. I guess what was happening before is that I was bottling too much stress up, and then blowing my stack. It is real unhealthy, and it was those issues, not Kellen, that landed me here. Make sure you guys get that straight."
"You mean you weren't mad at Kellen, you were mad at you?" Jenkins started to grin at the thought he spoke out loud, unaware that he had actually hit the nail on the head. The rest of the team was about to clobber him.
"Exactly."
"Huh?" Brewster's shock showed on his face.
The rest of the team shared Brewster's dismay. That is except Armen. He understood perfectly, but didn't like what he was hearing.
"Coach, the punk ruined our field! He's screwed up our team, messed with you, messed with guys on the team, and makes teachers afraid to go into their own classroom. He's a bully, not a hardcore thug—and I am tired of him getting by. Don't tell me he isn't going to pay for what he did, just because you are going Oprah on us—dat ain't right. If you and the school don't do something, I will. I'm tired of his "feel sorry for the crazy dude."
Kellen had expected to see the other guys nodding with him, but they were all looking at their shoes. He didn't know if it was because they were scared, or if they actually disagreed with the truth he thought he was speaking. He couldn't stand in that hospital room a moment longer. The air in the room was stale and funky and he couldn't breath. He threw the get well card he had made for the coach on the empty hospital bed and then waved his arm down in disgust before striding out of the room. Coach Smith had drove, but he didn't feel like being near any of those guys right now. He needed to think, and the walk would clear his mind.
Coach Smith and the other players went after Armen. Brewster lingered a moment torn between his angry friend and the look he saw exchanged between his mother and coach. He heard Armen yell at the group to leave him alone in the hallway and that moved his feet into action. The last thing he saw as he exited the hospital room was his mom leaning down to kiss his coach.
Brianna and Frank melted into a kiss. The tempest of a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea dissolved away in the face of the single truth of why it was right. The kiss seemed to last an eternity. They parted only to catch their breath.
"You kiss by the book." They quoted in stereo, their eyes expressing the thoughts they had no words for.
"We are fortune's fool," Frank quoted their favorite poet and speaking what was swirling in both their minds and hearts. Brianna smiled sadly at her star-crossed lover.
"Do you want me to speak with Sir?" Frank asked, wincing at the awkward state they were in.
"I think we both will need to talk to him. Perhaps you should come over for dinner when you get checked out of here. "
Frank took Brianna's ebony hand in his ivory one. There fingers linked together in a knot and he kissed their knuckles promising that everything would work out, even if it was a mystery as to how.
