Harvest of Expectations Ch. 11

The judge scanned his scoring chart.

"Are you sure you don't want to try?" he asked.

"I can't even grip the pole," Jim replied.

"I'm sorry," the judge said. "That means that third place, at least, is awarded to Lehigh on the basis of fewer misses."

Jim walked over to the Lehigh vaulter.

"Congratulations," he said. "Good luck at seventeen-six."

The Lehigh vaulter looked confused, at first, but then he must have noticed Jim's right arm hugged to his body and his left hand extended to shake hands.

"Injure yourself on your last try?" he asked.

Jim nodded.

"Sorry," Jim's opponent said. "Good vault on that last one, though."

"I'll help you with your pole," George said, and the two walked off the field together.

As they did Jim looked around the field, knowing it would be his final moments as a competitor. He looked up in the stands and saw Hildy and his parents watching him. He gave them a wave and they waved back. He and George went to where the Equipment Manager was waiting and they helped him stow their poles.

"Tough break," George said. "I think you would have taken it—at least a third and maybe a second if you had cleared seventeen-six. Your last vault would have cleared it if the bar had been at that height."

"It's okay," Jim said. "I know I gave it everything I had. I didn't leave anything behind. I didn't get what I'd hoped, but I'm satisfied."

It occurred to Jim that the track letter that had been his goal at the beginning of the year had eluded him. He accepted it and was surprised that he didn't feel as bad as he thought, despite coming so close.

"You know George," Jim said as the two walked through the stadium portal leading to the locker room, "I just learned that you can't feel bad if you don't leave anything behind."

***************

Jim sat with Hildy and his parents at a table in the back of the dining room in Joe's Restaurant. It was an Italian place on the edge of town. There were more elegant places to dine, to be sure, but Jim thought that Joe's was perfect. The food was good and it was a quiet place where they could relax and talk. They had just finished commiserating with Jim about his injury and loss of placing in his event.

Jim's right wrist was wrapped in an elastic bandage. The team trainer gave him an ice treatment and wrapped it for him, so he had kept the others waiting longer than he thought that he would.

"If the inflammation doesn't start going down in a week or so, you'll have to have x-rays," he had told Jim. "Keep the bandage on for two weeks."

Jim and his father were having the breaded veal and eggplant with the heavy sauce. Jim's mother ordered linguini with white clam sauce.

"I don't know much about Italian food," Hildy admitted.

"Have the Shrimp Scampi with pasta on the side," Jim's mother said. "That way, you can eat only as much pasta as you want so you won't get too full."

Jim could see that Hildy was happy. He had wanted to spend some time talking with her, but found out right away that his mother was taking up all of Hildy's attention. Hildy was talking and laughing and had that carefree look that Jim never tired of seeing. So, he decided to leave things as they were and let his mother have Hildy all to herself.

"She'll have that carefree look a lot more often after I get back in August," he promised himself.

"So, you're okay with skipping graduation?" he asked his father.

"Yeah, sure," Jim's father said.

"Next year we'll do it all over again and I'll go through the ceremony then," Jim said.

"I'm going to go freshen up," Hildy said.

She rose and looked around for the Ladies' Room and then headed off in that direction.

"I was thinking the same thing," Jim's mother said and in a second was off in that direction, as well.

When they were gone Jim's father turned to him.

"You're mother really likes Hildy," he told Jim.

"Yes, I kind of noticed," Jim said with a laugh.

"Well, your mother can get carried away, sometimes, but she never pretends about these things."

"What do you think, Dad?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, Jim," his father said. "What you feel is what counts."

"I think that's pretty obvious," Jim replied. "I wouldn't have her in this situation if I didn't..."

"Yes I suppose that's true," his father said. "The truth is that I do like her, Jim. You know, I've been a salesman for over twenty-five years and one thing I can always spot is a phony. That's one thing this girl is not. I don't see any phoniness in her at all."

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

"We met Hildy's father when we picked her up. He's a real piece of work."

"He doesn't like me very much," Jim said.

"I don't think it's you, Jim. Guys like that have something inside eating away at them and they take it out on whoever is closest."

"That would be Hildy," Jim said. "She's taken a lot from him. She's had to screw up her courage to keep taking it and keep seeing me. Her father can't hurt me because I really don't care what he thinks. I'm afraid for Hildy, though."

"Be afraid for yourself, too, because guys like that never stop. You're sure to hear from him again. Don't give Hildy a reason to lose her courage. She's a sweet girl and sees things in a simple way. Her father's antics are sure to confuse her."

"I'll keep that in mind. So far, she's doing pretty good."

"Makes me like her even more," his father said. "So what plans do you two have?"

"We thought that when I come back in August we could start to sort that out," Jim said. "We're hoping things go from there."

"Sounds sensible," his father said. "Your mother and I were afraid..."

"No," Jim said. "Better this way. For one thing, Hildy's never seen me when I just don't have time for anything else but work or study. There'll be plenty of that when I start school again and when she sees it she might not like what she sees."

"Have you talked to her about that?"

"Sure, Dad, but talking is one thing. Being in it is something else."

"I think she'll understand if you give her your best when you're not so busy. Anyway, I think you're handling it the right way. Whichever way you go, it's up to you. Just keep us posted."

Hildy and Jim's mother returned to the table and Jim and his father ended their private talk.

"Guess what?" Jim's mother exclaimed. "Hildy and I made a date to go shopping at the mall next week."

"Oh brother," Jim mumbled to himself."

"Who saved room for dessert?" Jim's father asked.

Jim was driving back to his apartment, and his parents and Hildy were on their way back to Rochester.

"These are happy times," he had to admit to himself.

The happy times tasted sweet, like the strawberries that people were gathering in the sunny fields throughout that June. It was a time of rest and enjoyment. But, in Jim's head a voice was whispering—reminding him that respite and sweet flavors were only a pause in expectations.

TO BE CONTINUED