The Eye of The Universe Read online



  2012: The Eye of The Universe

  By Florence Witkop

  I didn’t notice the man in the overcoat arrive. He was just there, leaning against the fence, watching the basketball game. No expression, just a taut, brown body topped by a strong face and thick, black hair, head tilted in the way of people when they are thinking. An athlete, watching other athletes. I wondered what exactly he was seeing.

  I saw the Panthers, my boyfriend Sig’s team, in practice mode, a boastfully named basketball team. Would have been boastful except that lately they were living up to their name, executing moves both smooth and powerful, way better than at the beginning of the summer. I’d marveled at the improvement and wondered if the man in the overcoat had seen them earlier. If so, what did he think of them now?

  There was no other team on the court, just handkerchiefs tied around the necks of half of the team to differentiate defense from offense. No other teams would play the Panthers since they’d gotten so good. The kind of problem every team would like to have.

  It was sometime in July that the Panthers suddenly became awesome. It was now early winter and they were still improving.

  We’d talked about this amazing development, Sig and me, in those quiet moments before drifting off to sleep. Basketball was a large part of his life and he was a large part of mine, so I knew everything there was to know about the game. Always had because we’d known each other since we were kids.

  I’d always been in love with him, ever since I could remember, but he’d been several years older than me, so he’d never noticed. After high school, he joined the Army and left without knowing how I felt. It was only in the last couple of years that things got serious between us. Since he came home from the Middle East.

  “Is that Sig?” my mom had asked one day, peering through the curtains in that way she has that keeps her informed of everything that’s going on in the neighborhood. “I hear he’s out of the Service.”

  I scrambled to join her in time to see him on the sidewalk, passing our house with that ground-eating stride that would carry him away and out of my life once more in mere moments. Unless I did something and did it fast.

  I dashed to the door and let momentum propel me off the porch and down the walk until I crashed straight into his body. We went down hard.

  “What the… ?” Sig untangled himself from me and stared. “I know you. You’re the Miller girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. Sorry I knocked you over. I was in a hurry.” He grunted, knowing it was a lie but flattered that I cared enough to do what I’d done. So we lay on the pavement for a while and examined ourselves for broken bones but there were none while he thought over the implications of my brazen move. When he didn’t get up in disgust, I took a gamble. “Want some lemonade? It’s the least I can do after almost flattening you.”

  His brows shot up. “You? Flatten me?” He threw his head back and laughed. “All five two of you?” But something in his voice said he was curious about where this was going. “Did I hear you right? Lemonade?”

  I flushed, feeling like an awkward teenager all over again, and I’d thought I’d outgrown all that. Obviously not, at least not where Sig was concerned. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead, ignoring my red face. “It’s all I have. It’s fresh.”

  He considered, saying nothing, not trying to hide the laughter in his expression, but neither did he hide the fact that he liked where this was going. “I’d love some.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and we moved to the back yard to catch up on the years that had passed since we’d both attended the same school.

  Things went swiftly from there until my mom and just about everyone else we knew thought it was only a matter of time until we set the date. For a long time I didn’t think that day would come.

  Something had happened to Sig in the Middle East, possibly no worse than what happened to many others, but Sig carried his hurts deep and silently, and that was the worst way to deal with them, a way that shut everyone out, even those who wanted to help. There were whole months that I thought he’d never be ready for a real relationship.

  Until, after a day of total silence on his part, when he finished pounding on the wall for no reason at all that I could see, I decided I’d had enough. I loved Sig enough to want to make a life with him, forever if possible, but not enough to put myself in danger if those dark memories took over his life. So I hoped for the best, but I acted. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll be here to listen if you ever want to talk.”

  “I’ve nothing to say.” He examined the wall. Touched the dent his fist had made with a kind of wonder. “Sorry about the wallpaper.” Soon afterwards, he went for a walk.

  I thought I’d lost him forever, but he returned many hours later. He spoke, looking at the hole he’d made instead of at me. “If you want to leave, I’ll understand.”

  “I’m here for the long haul. If you want me to stay.”

  “I do.” His voice was strangled.

  “Then deal with whatever is bothering you. Somehow. Please.”

  That night was quiet as we stared at the dark ceiling without talking, pretending to each other that we were asleep and knowing we weren’t. Making tentative moves towards one another, and then pretending we were merely turning over in bed.

  But the next week he talked with someone at the VA. He never told me what happened during those sessions but that cloud over his head seemed to lift a bit.

  Then he learned that a couple of the guys from the neighborhood who had also been in the Middle East liked basketball almost as much as he did. They started shooting hoops in their spare time. It seemed to help.

  Then a few more guys came along and, first thing they knew, they had a team. Sig was the captain. Of course, he’s a natural leader. Since Sig and I were solid once again and looking towards a future, I met them all and watched him turn a bunch of aimless guys, veterans but in a way, society’s rejects, into a real team.

  I expected them to name that fledgling team the Warriors or something similar because of their shared background in the service, but they didn’t. Instead, they became the Panthers. Not long before, I’d bought an art poster of a black panther and hung it in our bedroom. Perhaps that was the inspiration for the name. Whether that was true or not, whenever I glanced at it, I was reminded of the team.

  Especially, that panther reminded me of Sig. Something about the eyes. The graceful, powerful body. The air of danger that could dissolve into pure enjoyment every time he found a neighborhood kid hanging around the impromptu court they’d fashioned in a vacant lot, and taught that kid how to shoot hoops.

  Even our apartment was chosen for proximity to the court. No house, we couldn’t afford one, but we found a place close to where each of us worked that was also convenient to that vacant lot, which was a good thing since they played every evening, until long after dark.

  It was okay with me. I loved Sig and I liked the rest of the team and cheerfully accepted that our life would revolve around their schedule during a large part of the year. During the season, of course, but while I waited patiently, I knew that the season would end when the weather grew too cold for them to play outside. At which time I’d have Sig to myself.

  So autumn passed into early winter and the season end neared. I checked the calendar faithfully until one night when I stared out the window into a night lit by a full moon and a million stars, I realized that it had changed. No longer the soft dark of summer, it looked cold. I voiced my thoughts. “No snow yet.”

  In theory, they could still play but I shivered at the thought of them chasing each other around the court in shorts and sleeveless shirts. Mentally
shivering at the cold outside, I snuggled warmly against Sig’s back. “No snow, but it’s freezing outside and getting colder by the day.” Unsaid was the question of how much longer they’d play.

  Sig rolled, pushing me away to keep from rolling on top of me as he moved, then pulling me closer once he was facing me. “We don’t mind the cold and we can use the practice.”

  I’d got my answer but I didn’t like it. Visions of pneumonia floated through my mind. “Huh!” I pulled free, then raised my body above his, arms on either side, and stared into his eyes. The bright night didn’t extend into the bedroom, his eyes were pools of darkness. “If there’s one thing you guys don’t need, it’s more practice. Whatever level of play the team is reaching for, you’re already there. You guys are awesome and you know it.” I poked him in the stomach, and then slid down on top of him. His body was slippery and familiar. “You, Sig, are even reaching the point where you may some day be able to make a long shot without everyone laughing.” I tickled him in the ribs.

  He squirmed beneath my onslaught, grabbing my hand and holding it firmly to his side. “I’m not that bad.”

  But I still had one free hand, and I was merciless. “Yes you are. Absolutely awful. Were awful, until lately.