Tying the Knot | Bonus Content

The Decision  |  Bonus Content

Tying the Knot

*********

He’d just finished hauling his stuff from the airport shuttle to his dorm room and was unpacking. After stuffing everything in his suitcase into dresser drawers, James turned his attention to the smaller cardboard box. A wistful smile crept across his face. The side panel had been decorated by Scotty and Cherie, his younger brother and sister. He carefully detached the side panel and propped the ‘Welcome to LA’ Crayola artwork up against the wall atop his desk.

“I’ll need to find some way to hang this on my wall,” he said, “It’ll be the perfect reminder of home.”

A pang of sadness hit him. The feeling could raise its head at a moment’s notice and was capable of dragging him into a deep, dark place. Needing a distraction to ward away the sudden homesickness, he dove into the remaining thin oblong box containing his bike. He opened the box, carefully laying each part on the floor. He was planning to enjoy an afternoon spin around the campus, though after seeing the steep inclines on his trip from the airport, he realized it would take a while to get used to California cycling.

For the next two hours, he cleaned, lubed and assembled the various parts. After feeding each cable through the frame-mounted guides, he set the proper tension, tested the brakes, and shifted through the gears. He adjusted the saddle and attached the pedals and handlebars. When finished, he leaned the bike against his bed and stepped back to admire the recent high school graduation gift from his dad.

Previously, he’d always ridden a ‘beater’ bike – something no one would want to steal when he locked it up in his south side Chicago neighborhood. But, the bike before him now, a ‘Raleigh Record,’ was a road bike made in England, where cycling was a serious sport. Tinkering on his bike always helped James feel better. His mood was beginning to lift.

Running his hand over the bike’s saddle, he said with a smile, “Your Chicago flatland days are over, girl. We’re gonna be taking on serious elevation now.”

“Sweet ride,” bellowed a deep voice from behind James.

Startled by the interruption, James jumped. Initially embarrassed at being caught talking to his bike, he quickly regained his composure. Turning toward the voice, he was confronted with another surprise. Standing over six feet, James was a big guy, but the man standing before him was nearly twice James’ size and literally filled the entire doorway. The ‘Hulk’ stood there in tattered cut-off jeans and a muscle shirt with ‘UCLA Football’ emblazoned across his mammoth chest. A smile spread across James’ face.

“They grow you guys big around here.”

James stuck out his hand only to have it swallowed by hulk’s oversized mitt.

“Easy there, big fellow,” said James as he extracted and examined his right hand. Raising both hands just above his waist with his palms up, he added, “These hands are precision tools for erecting walls. They’re dedicated to the delivery of the perfect spike… to block opposing wannabe volleyball hitters.” He finished with a smile, “They’re not designed to block a three hundred pound lineman like you.”

It was the hulk’s turn to smile.

“First, they don’t grow ‘em this big ‘round here; they had to go to Nebraska to find me. And second, you’re a wordy fucker ain’t cha?”

James and Hulk shared the first of many future laughs.

“My name’s Harold, but everyone’s called me ‘Junior’ since I was a kid. My brother got all the size in the family. He’s pushing three hundred eighty-five pounds… and that’s in-season. Off season we’re not sure how much he weighs, cuz he won’t go near the scales.”

Another laugh.

“I’m James, James Durant, from Chicago.” Waving his hand about the room, he added, “As you can see I just arrived, but I guess you’ve been here a while getting ready for your season opener.”

Junior replied as he looked around the room, “Yeah, football practice’s been going on for a while. Welcome to the jock dorm, the best digs on campus. The rooms ain’t this nice in the regular dorms. Plus, they have two or three people in most every room.”

The light bulb went off in James mind why everyone he’d encountered in the halls was so fit.

“Cool, I didn’t realize we were lumped together in special housing.”

“Yeah, jocks get lots of special stuff, you’ll see,” said Junior with a smile. “Well, it’s been nice shooting the shit, but I gotta go.” He turned and lumbered down the hall saying, “We’re still doing two-a-days; I got me another practice this afternoon.”

“Good luck with that, Junior,” called out James. “Better you than me big man.”
Junior held up a hand with the index finger raised as he turned the corner.

*********

Returning to the present, James clapped his best friend on the back.

“You’ve been a good friend; thanks for sharing today with me.”

Junior shrugged his massive shoulders and replied in jest.

“I’d rather be here playing the Bears this weekend, but with last week’s playoff loss we’re out and I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I’ll make sure and tell Lisa about that,” quipped James.

Both laughed, well aware Junior had been joking. Finished tying the bow, Junior stood back to admire his work.

“And what’s with putting ‘Harold’ on the program… jeez, nobody calls me that anymore.”

Their laugh was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Yeah,” called out James.

The door opened and Alan Pinkerton stuck in his head.

“Let’s go mates, this is one party that can’t start without you.”

Junior used his massive arms to turn James toward the door and gave him a push forward.

“You’ve waited almost fifteen years, man, can’t put it off any longer. Let’s do this.”