This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.
CHAPTER FIVE - A Day at a Time
The doors to the balcony were left slightly open so the night sea breeze could waft into the fourth-story condo apartment off the surf softly rushing onto the sand in Myrtle Beach.
Rance wore his green, Generals football wind suit with a fleece top to keep warm as he watched Fulbright's next opponent, the mighty Georgia Bulldogs, pound Auburn. This wasn't a casual viewing. Rance was taking rudimentary notes in real time about the tendencies of Georgia's defensive front - its alignments and the stunts it would run from them and the circumstances in which they ran those stunts.
Gia had covered herself with a quilt that had been handed down in Rance's family through his mother's side for three generations and dozed off snuggling against Rance, her cheek on his chest and Rance's right arm draped over her. It made note-taking a bit awkward, but Rance found as much peace in her untroubled slumber as she did.
It was Gia, after all, who had pressed Rance to watch the game analytically to get a jump on his return to the Generals' offensive line. It was time, she said. The past week had been enormously healing for her, and she felt she had turned the corner in reclaiming her life, especially here in the clean salt air if Myrtle Beach in a condo well above the sand and surf.. And as her life went, so went Rance's.
"Rance, you know we've got to get back in the game, so to speak. In your case literally," she said in the afterglow of their lovemaking on the apartment veranda as they lay naked together on the chaise lounge that afternoon. "I feel almost completely like myself again. The mind and the human psyche are far less predictable than the molecular-chemical life science that is my field. Some people never pull out of a horrible ordeal like this has been. But those people haven't had a secure and loving environment and someone like you, Rance."
He remembered -- would never forget -- how Gia looked directly into his eyes and commanded his full reciprocal attention. She spoke slowly and with purpose: "I want you to call Coach Hemp and tell him you're back. It will help me to see you back out there. If we keep acting like victims, the longer we'll
be
victims. I want you to watch Georgia play Auburn on TV tonight to get your head back into things," she said.
A smile slowly tugged at the corners of Rance's mouth, and he nodded. "I will, baby."
They showered and strolled to a small seafood restaurant near the condo tower. Rance texted his coach with two words:
I'm back
. Seconds later, Perry Hemphill replied with a dozen thumbs-up emojis followed by:
Gr8 news! Check in w/ your counselor Mon AM and let him/her know. We need you. How's Gia?
Stronger by the day. Was her idea (demand?) for me to return
, Rance texted back.
Wed afternoon was the turning point & you and our team made that possible. Thank U!
Now back in the apartment with bellies full of red snapper for Rance and shrimp scampi for Gia, they arranged themselves on the expansive sofa in front of the TV and tuned to ESPN just before the kickoff at Jordan-Hare Stadium at Auburn. Gia was asleep before the midpoint of the first quarter, comforted by Rance's focus on the game.
He had studied a lot of film in his two years of Power Five college football, but he had never seen a defensive front as big, powerful, quick and fundamentally sound as Georgia's. This looks more like an NFL defense than a collegiate one, he noted to himself, and it should be a serious contender to return the national championship game. But Rance and Fulbright intended to have something to say about that.
The game was not as close as the 34-10 final score made it seem. Auburn put the first points on the board, a chip shot field goal, and that just seemed to irritate Georgia. The Bulldogs proceeded to pour it on and led 24-3 by midway through the third quarter, sending the War Eagle fans for the exits. Georgia dominated every statistical category, but the one that caught Rance's attention: the Bulldogs held Auburn to just 46 yards rushing on 19 carries. Nobody can win with a ground game that weak because it makes an offense one-dimensional, utterly reliant on the pass. And if that's where you are, you're dead.
Rance had filled three legal pad pages with game notes. Gia was still asleep when it ended. Lacking the heart to jostle her awake, he carefully slid himself into position to pick her up and carry her like a child to the bed. With the game jersey Rance kept after Fulbright's season opening victory over Wake Forest serving as her sleep shirt, all Rance had to do was pull the covers over her, shut the balcony door and climb into bed next to her.
●●●
They awoke at 9 and were on the road by 10 the next morning, looking to make it back to campus in time to resolve questions about their residency before the team's 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon film study that was always the first official team preparatory function of game week. Usually, they would watch film of the previous day's game, but since they were coming off a bye weekend, this meeting would be focused solely on Georgia.
They passed a highway sign that informed them Fallstrom was 22 miles away.
"Where do you want to go when we get there, Gia," Rance said. It was a question that had hung over them throughout the weekend. She had cleaned out the Marriott Courtyard room, beyond done with the cold and impersonal life of a hotel dweller, and everything that had been taken from her Honors College studio was in the bags in the SUV. She was deliberately leaving her options open until the last minute: she could return to her studio in the Honors College, she could check back in to the Courtyard or the Holiday Inn Express, or she could stay for a while in Rance's apartment.
The lattFer was appealing, but awkward because Rance and Hurley were accustomed to sometimes walking around naked or barely clothed. The introduction of not just a woman but Rance's significant other would complicate things, as Hurley had learned the Sunday afternoon when Rance had returned to the apartment unexpectedly and gotten an eyeful of bush, tush and tits when Hurley's girl, Michelle, emerged from their one bathroom, unaware that Rance had returned while she showered 12 hours of sex funk off of herself.
For Gia, the idea of going back to the hotel was depressing, but it provided a measure of anonymity, security and independence. It all depended on one factor she could not know in advance.
"Take me to the studio," she said, not fully certain how she would react re-entering the building for the first time since that terrible day. "I have to see if I can handle it."
Rance nodded. He silently extended his right hand across the center console and she took it and held it tightly.
It was shortly before 1 when they pulled into the parking lot and up to the awning leading to the front Honors College Residence Hall entrance. At least the media horde had finally given up and departed. Gia stared at the glass doors for a long moment, swallowed hard, pursed her lips resolutely, turned to Rance and nodded.
Rance didn't bother grabbing her bags. Not yet. If the place was still intolerable to her, then there would be no need to have them inside the lobby. Indeed, their very presence might suggest to her an expectation that she return. They approached the door with Gia clutching Rance's hand. They paused at the front door and she breathed deeply.
"Let's do this," she said, her resolve steeled.
