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Our non-relationship interaction went on into the Spring. I finally got to visit her at her parents’ apartment, in one of the grand downtown buildings miles away, and light years removed, from the crowded two-bedroom flat where all five of our family lived. I had the excuse of delivering printer’s proofs for review. She had been elected editor for the final issue of the magazine for her senior year. Her room was light and friendly, with low shelves and nothing that she could not reach from her wheelchair, with lowered lightswitches and counterweighted windows for easy opening. It was novel then, and must have cost her parents enough to keep our family fed for months. If you hadn’t guessed, I hated being poor. She smiled as she re-read The White Owl. She looked up and said ‘It’s a lovely poem. I read it again and again.’ ‘It’s magnificent,’ I said. I looked at her bed, narrow, with no posts or headboard, nothing to keep her from easy access unaided. I wanted to put her on that bed. Mike O'Keefe and Jim Hall dropped by. Jason Harting and Kevin Peachey dropped by. Both were from my high school.Ashley Burton made it again. She hadn't missed one party since school started. I was starting to get comfortable with the whole concept until ... Jon Stafford decided to make a play for Ashley. I never found a chance to warn Jon off before he escorted Ashley upstairs for a roll in the hay.I didn't get a chance to talk with Jon again until around midnight after Ashley left with a couple girlfriends. I found him in the kitchen getting himself a celebratory drink."Jon, have you gone crazy?" I asked."What, Coach?" Jon asked innocently."What do you expect to happen when Coach Burton finds out that you slept with his precious daughter?" I demanded. "How do you think your career will go, playing for a head coach who would like to hang you by your balls?" That's not going to happen, Coach," Jon said. "Troy and Ian are right. Ashley's cool to partying. She won't say anything to her.
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