Tell No One
A Novel by Jeff Vrolyks
Copyright 2012 Jeff Vrolyks
Theo wasn’t surprised when he pulled up to his parent’s house to find the driveway full of cars and both sides of the street lined with cars. In San Francisco parking was hard to come by, but this wasn’t the reason, not today. There was one spot open, undoubtedly reserved for him, and that was beside his father’s old F-150 on the driveway. He parked his Mustang. Upon shutting off the engine he could hear the party. Loud music and laughter, loud conversations. Someone spied him on the other side of the living room window and exclaimed, “He’s here!”
Theo adjusted his neck-tie with a grin, combed his fingers through his hair and jaunted up the step of the porch, opened the door. He was the center of attention, the main attraction; everyone clapped. A large banner stretched across the living room wall reading Congrats Theo! Go Stanford! On the seventy-inch Plasma TV was the game, The Fiesta Bowl, where Stanford had bested Oregon mightily 39-17, a game that Theo played in less than twenty-four hours ago.
His mother hugged him, kissed his cheek and pulled back, stared at him as a proud mother would, and said she loved him.
“Thanks, mom, for this. I love you, too.”
His father was next. James shook his hand first, gazed admiringly at him, and then pulled him into an embrace, patted his back. “Congratulations, son.”
His best friend Chad Ziegler, affectionately referred to as Zee, handed him a beer, raised his own and said amid the crowded living room, “To the country’s premier quarterback, Theo Graham, who punished those rotten Oregonians, and who will undoubtedly be drafted in the first round next year.” He looked at Theo conspiratorially and said under his breath: “Or maybe this year…? May you have a long and illustrative career in the NFL, my friend.”