Page 41 of The Leaves In Autumn
“I gave her the rules. But you know how she feels about rules. Van says not to worry.”
“He doesn’t know what we do.”
We sit with the information, and I see trouble ahead. Crap. I’m calling tomorrow. No one is going to ruin Layla’s day.
“Here they are.”
Turning, I see Gaston, Aurora, and Aargon approach, carrying their rented shoes. Van meets them and points to our lanes. When Aargon and I catch each other’s gaze, a smile passes between us. My heart races with the sight of his face. He waves. Why did violins begin to play? Oh brother. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Layla whispers. “Okay. Good start.”
“Hello, ladies!”
Gaston sits and takes a break to talk before donning the red and white shoes.
“You’ve already started?” Aargon says, throwing out an innocent question.
“Just now. A little practice never hurt,” I add.
“So you admit to needing practice.”
There he is. He is trying to reset to our starting position.
Aurora chuckles with the knowledge Layla and I will crush whatever he or any of them bring.
“Uh, oh. She’s a ringer, right?”
“Hate to tell you son, they both are.”
“Our father was a state champion. It’s genetic apparently.”
“Then we need to split them up. One on each team.”
Layla goes in for a cheek kiss from her in-laws. Almost in-laws. Gaston calls to me.
“Bonjour, Barbra!”
“Bonjour, Gaston! Mon nom est, Barbra.”
He laughs. “I realize that. But good start. You’ll get the hang of it when you’re over there. Frenchmen are friendlier than their reputation. They’re going to love you.”
If I had to guess, Aurora wants to kill her husband about now. She is giving him that blank stare women send that reads like a hundred-word threat. It’s kind of funny. He shuts up.
“So let’s get to it,” Aargon says, tying his shoes.
“Let’s make the teams,” Layla says, sitting at the table pencil in hand. “How about Van, Aurora and Barbra, then Gaston, me and Aargon?”
“Cool,” Van says, picking up a ball. “I’ll go.”
As he gets in position, Aargon takes a seat next to me on the far bench. Aurora stands and pretends to be busy looking at balls.
“Honey, help me pick one.”
Gaston gets the drift and rises.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
When we are alone, he pats my leg.
