forms, a copy of the Truman alumni magazine. And, last but not least, at the bottom of the FedEx envelope, Mel found a trifold map that looked like something you’d pick up at a trailhead. There was a Post-it stuck to the front.
There are loads of great hiking trails not far from campus, but truthfully, I hope what excites you most about coming to Truman is the chance to forge your own path. I can’t wait to see how far you go.
–Karen
Mel pressed the map to her chest. That Coach Karen had thought to include this for her was the kindest and most considerate gesture. It also marked the first piece of Truman that belonged solely to Mel. She snapped a picture and sent it to Gordy, remembering that she’d referred to him as her boyfriend in that conversation with Coach Karen about hiking.
GORDY: WHAT?!?!?
GORDY: NO WAY!!!!
It was easy to match Gordy’s excitement. By this point, Mel had a good buzz going.
MEL: My parents are taking me out to dinner tonight.
MEL: Would you maybe want to come with us?
GORDY: Absolutely.
MEL: It’s a nice place so you’ll have to dress up.
MEL: Your fanciest fleece.
GORDY: You think I don’t own a suit?
MEL: Is it made of water-wicking fabric?
GORDY:
GORDY: You’d better prepare yourself, college girl.
GORDY: Your boy cleans up real nice.
Mel was excited about dressing up for Gordy, too. She’d spent their summer dirty and sweaty. Bug spray instead of perfume. SPF instead of foundation. Sometimes Mel didn’t even bother washing her hair. Gordy didn’t care. She’d often catch him staring at her instead of the view.
She had just stepped out of the shower when her mother popped her head into her bedroom. “Coach can make it. He’ll meet us at the restaurant.”
“Wait. Seriously?”
A towel cinched around her, hair dripping on the carpet, Mel raced across her room and checked her phone. Coach still hadn’t texted her back. But he had, apparently, returned her father’s call.
She flopped down in front of her vanity. “I invited Gordy to come with us.”
“That’s fine, sweetie. The more the merrier.”
Nope. Not in this case.
“It’s okay. We’d have to change tables.”
“Mel, your dad can handle sitting at a different table. Plus he and I want to meet Gordy.”
“Another time.”
She picked up her phone.
MEL: Hey. Sorry but my parents are being weird.
MEL: They kind of want this to be a family thing.
MEL: I should have asked them first before inviting you.
GORDY: No worries.
GORDY: Text me later.
GORDY: I’ll come by in my suit.
GORDY: I just put it on and I’m looking
Mel typed, k!, then deleted it.
Even though she had every intention of seeing Gordy later—this was just a dinner and Coach was very likely taking a job someplace else—it still felt safer not to commit.
It was easier than she’d expected to redirect her enthusiasm for dressing up from Gordy to Coach. Mel and Coach hadn’t seen each other all summer. She picked a forest-green wrap dress, her new school color. She curled her hair and wore heels, the lilac suede ones she’d worn on Easter, and the diamond solitaire from her grandmother. She put on lashes. Though Mel would rather die than ever admit it, she did want to look pretty for him. To look like a college girl, not a high school kid on his field hockey team. It was a chance to make a new impression.
Mel had a flutter in her heart as she followed her parents into the restaurant. Coach was waiting near the hostess stand. He looked hot. Raw denim, a pale blue oxford button-up, Truman green tie, navy blazer, brown chukkas. His hair was longer and blonder than she’d ever seen it. He was using new product in his hair, the curls perfectly messily clumped. Immediately, Mel was struck by a bolt of jealousy. Was he flirting with the hostess?
But boy, she felt a swell as he pivoted away from the hostess when the Gingriches came through the door. It was clear Mel made the impression she’d been hoping to. He hugged her, his nose sneaking into her hair. She could feel his eyes on her as they were led to their table.
Mel had the distinct sense that she had been infused with a newfound power. How to wield it was less clear to her.
Dinner was stiff at first. Her father had selected a bottle of wine, which Coach took one sip of—trying to be a good sport—and clearly did not like. Her mother quickly told him to order something else. He got a beer.