Lee Fitts

by Rich Garon

  Lee decided his ankle could have Saturday off. He called Christie to have dinner with him and his mother. The three gathered around the small table that once hosted only Hungry Man dinners. It was meat loaf now, with baked potatoes, green beans, and crescent dinner rolls. As he concluded his six-word blessing, Lee’s head remained bowed.

  “Is everything all right, Lee?” his mother asked.

  Lee couldn’t know yet if everything was all right, but he nodded anyway as he took his first bite.

  Mrs. Aggarwal phoned asking Lee if he could be at their house at 9 the next morning. He left home early so he would not be late for Raymond’s exercises.

  “Good morning, Lee,” Mrs. Aggarwal said as she motioned him to come in. “This is my father, Mr. Gupta.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Gupta,” Lee offered his hand and the older gentleman extended his.

  “Good morning, Lee,” Mr. Gupta said formally as he withdrew his hand. Raymond was sitting in a small chair with a tray and was staring at the window.

  “I must be going now to work. As I said, Raymond’s caretaker will be late this morning, so your being here now means we can do Raymond’s early morning exercises. Father will show you what to do. You’re being here means so much to us.”

  “I am glad that I can help and I will listen very carefully to Mr. Gupta’s instructions about Raymond’s exercises.”

  Mr. Gupta returned from the kitchen with a jar of peanut butter and what looked like a wooden tongue depressor. Lee thought Mr. Gupta was going to have a morning snack and maybe there weren’t any clean spoons.

  “This will help Raymond develop muscles in his mouth and strengthen his tongue.” Mr. Gupta said. Raymond turned toward his grandfather. The boy’s head was tilted and his arms bent and stiff. What might have been a smile at Lee vanished as Raymond opened his mouth and his grandfather smoothed a large portion of peanut butter on to the boy’s tongue. “You stay on this side of Raymond and I’ll stay on the other, because he will start moving his head and his arms as he gets the peanut butter off his tongue. Mr. Gupta gave Raymond one more large serving of peanut butter.

  Lee had never seen anything like this. “Raymond seems to like peanut butter,” was all he could say.

  “Yes, he does, and we think that this exercise is helping him make stronger sounds with his tongue. We will wait a while until we do the next exercise and we will wait with the others until his therapist comes. Would you like something to drink or eat?

  “No thank you,” Lee said. Raymond stared at Lee and smiled. Lee wondered what other exercises were to come.

  Mr. Gupta went into the other room as Lee stood by Raymond. The grandfather returned with a wooden frame, maybe 4’x5’ with two openings at the larger ends. He laid it on the floor; it was about 12” high and across the top were ropes woven into small squares.

  “I will need your help with this my friend. We need to get Raymond out of his chair and down by the frame.”

  Lee was very happy that Mr. Gupta was his friend and he believed they together could do a good job for Raymond. As Mr. Gupta lifted Raymond’s tray and undid the belt holding him in the chair, he motioned to Lee to lift the boy and carry him to the frame. Raymond’s arms were tight as Lee placed him down in one of the open ends of the frame.

  Mr. Gupta got down on his knees and bent down so that he could see Raymond at the other end of the frame. “Raymond, come to grandfather. Come to grandfather.”

  Lee watched as Raymond started to crawl under the rope. He wasn’t sure how he was to help the boy who with legs pushing and arms pulling along the floor suddenly stopped.

  “Lee, reach in between the ropes and give Raymond a little push, tell him he is doing a good job,” Mr. Gupta said. And Lee did and did again until Raymond had dragged himself to the other end of the box. “Now we let him rest for a while, then I will send him to you under the ropes. This builds his muscles and shows him how to use his arms and legs.”

  Lee would be back five more times when the therapist couldn’t show. He would remember the look of love Mr. Gupta had in his eyes as he helped his grandson. He would remember the glimmer in Raymond’s eyes as he made it through the rope box. And finally, he would remember how appreciative Mrs. Aggarwal and her husband were to have Lee help them. We will have you back for a nice dinner they told him. This was one good thing that came from working for Dan Calvert, Lee thought.

  For the third Sunday in a row, Ellie had come up with some reason she wouldn’t be able to go to church. Lee had offered to go to the service Ellie said she would attend only to have his sister say she wasn’t sure if she felt well enough to go to church at all. Marian Fitts said that when the time was right, they’d all go to church together. Lee, Christie and his mother slid further down the pew to make room for the broad-shouldered man who had arrived late. He smiled a thank you to Lee then bowed his head of stubbled gray hair on to bold hands defined by the prominent veins and sinew of a workman, or possibly of a seasoned athlete.

  Lee looked at Rev. Taylor as he walked to the front of the altar. The pastor’s smile seemed forced; as forced as it was last week, and the week before. Lee had always taken comfort in what he thought was fact: God gave to Rev. Taylor, just as he most likely did to other pastors, the ability to glide effortlessly into that big reassuring smile that had arms that could wrap you in a big, loving hug. Lee was concerned this week. It was clear there was something the matter with Rev. Taylor’s smile. Lee thought of the dying flicker of Tinkerbell, and he prayed for Rev. Taylor just as if Peter Pan had been there exhorting him.

  There were instances when certain words, a plaintive chord from the organ, or the smile of a father toward his fidgeting son, would make Lee’s eyes mist up as visions of a loving Jim Fitts passed in front of him. At such times, Lee heard a blur of sounds as Rev. Taylor spoke. Jim Fitts, however, knew the words soon to come were meant for Lee.

  “. . . a bright cloud . . .” Lee saw it immediately. “. . . overshadowed them. And from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with Him I am well pleased . . .” Lee’s grip on top of the pew in front of him tightened, drawing the glances of Christie, Marian Fitts and the lanky man next to him. Lee wiped his tears away.

  In the fellowship hall, Lee gravitated toward the piano where in earlier days he had conversations with Mrs. Plennington. She hadn’t been at church for some time, although she had sent the family a very nice card and fruit basket, and came to the funeral home to pay her respects. She spent most of the time speaking with Lee’s mother. The only thing Lee heard her tell his mother was what a nice son she had and how he had grown into such a fine young man. His mother thanked Mrs. Plennington who then gave his mother a hug. She next hugged Ellie, then D.H., then Lee. Lee placed his arms limply around Audrey Plennington’s shoulders. The older lady’s hug was more powerful, more clinging in an unobtrusive way of which she was master; no one other than Lee caught it. Her eyes turned from comforting to inviting to comforting so quickly that Lee wasn’t sure he had seen what he thought he had seen.

  Christie and Lee’s mother now stood next to the piano where Audrey Plennnington would stand after church with her cup of coffee issuing to Lee invitations, some subtle, some formally engraved. Christie and Marian Fitts radiated a peace that washed from that place in a soft, warm light the uncomfortable memories that had lingered by the piano.

  Lee stretched one leg, then the other; his training regimen knew no limits. His ankle stood firm and he reached for his toes. He would be ready for tomorrow; even if it were only from a short distance; he could hear the ignition as his instep made contact with brown leather.

  “Lee,” Christie said softly as she watched him. “You’re not out on the football field and people are starting to stare.”

  “I am sorry. I did not even realize that. I am just getting excited because of tomorrow.”

  “I know tomorrow means a lot to you, but you have to learn to pace yourself.”

  “I was not even thinking about
tomorrow, but then Rev. Taylor started talking about the son that the father was well-pleased with, and then I started thinking about my dad and the ball . . .”

  “Lee, you haven’t done this in so long; it might not come at first. Please don’t think it’s going to come back right away. You can’t get upset; you have to accept what happens. Promise me you will accept what happens.”

  Lee stopped stretching and looked up at Christie; he had never looked at her defiantly before. “You think I am not going to be able to do it?”

  “Promise me!”

  Before Lee could answer, he saw Rev. Taylor making his way through the flock. The smile would come on and off as if it had a photoelectric cell making contact with one parishioner after another with whom the clergyman would stop to talk.

  “Someone just told me something about Rev. Taylor’s brother; doesn’t sound good” Marian Fitts whispered to Christie. The smile on Warren Taylor’s face clicked on as he walked toward the piano. He had his arms on the shoulder of the man who had been sitting next to Lee in the pew. Christie knew now where she had seen him before.

  “Good morning everyone. Marian, it’s so nice to have you back with us. And Christie; my lifesaver, came along just when I needed that ride, good that you were able to join us this morning. Lee, everyone, I want you to meet Clement Ezzer. Clement will be joining us here and I wanted all our good folks to get to know Clement,” Rev. Taylor said. Marian and Lee reached for the new parishioner’s hand.

  “I’m Christie Veit, we’ve never been introduced but I go to St. Lukes’s and I remember seeing you there.”

  “Well, very nice to finally meet you. This is a great place, great people, great pastor, I think I’m going to be very happy here, yes very happy here,” Clement said with energy in his voice that might well have next exhorted the group to join him right then in a ten-mile run. “Don’t get me wrong, Christie, I like St. Luke’s, the people, what they’re doing, but I don’t know, hard to put my finger on it. I heard about this church and was mighty impressed with what’s going on here. I guess I just need fresh challenges sometimes, fresh challenges.”

  “I certainly understand. There’s that time when people have something inside that says, time to try something new; see if you can do it,” Christie nodded.

  “Yes, yes, all true, I guess,” said Rev. Taylor. “Lee, here’s something I’m sure you’ll find of interest. Clement was a kicker for the state university football team, and not just any kicker; he was an All-American and drafted by the NFL. What year did you graduate, Clement?”

  “I was afraid you were going to ask that,” Clement chuckled. He playfully squeezed Rev. Taylor’s arm and smiled. “Let’s just say it was after Joe Willie Namath led the New York Jets to their first Super Bowl title.”

  “Super Bowl III, 1969,” Lee blurted out.

  “So, you’re the young fellow Warren’s been talking about; got a pretty good kick do you?”

  “I used to have a pretty good kick; at least that is what my dad always told me. He told me I was going to go somewhere with my kick, to the NFL. But I have not kicked a football in a very long time and my dad died several weeks ago so I do not think I am going to the NFL.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father. Maybe you and I can talk about a few things I learned along the way. Why don’t you give me your phone number,” Clement Ezzer said as he got a small notepad and a pen from his blazer pocket.

  “I would like to get together to hear what you have learned along the way,” Lee said before reciting his phone number.

  “Okay, got it, got it. We’re going to get together.”

  “Mr. Ezzer, Christie is going to state university in the fall.”

  “Please call me Clement or Coach if you’d like. And that’s great Christie, you’ll really love it there. It’s a big place though, don’t want to get lost. Only kidding, you’ll love it; it’s a pretty exciting place. Some of the courses were rough; they were tough ones, but I have to admit I wasn’t the best student in the world. Did graduate though, and I tell you even with all that All-American hoopla, the fact that I graduated, got my degree, that meant more to me, and I know it meant more to my mom and dad. Say, Christie if you’d like, you, Lee, and I can grab lunch one day and I’ll tell you all about state.”

  “I’d like that,” Christie said.

  “Well, I’ll look for you folks next week after the service. Thank you, Rev. Taylor.”

  “Coach, we are at the piano right here in the fellowship hall after the service,” Lee said, wanting to make sure Clement Ezzer knew where to go next Sunday.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Clement,” Marian Fitts added, as the sunlight of this man’s presence awoke in her a hope that God was somehow reaching out to help her son. “He’s such a nice man, seems very sincere, don’t you think so Christie?”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “Warren, how’s your brother?” Marian asked.

  Warren Taylor was always uncomfortable when one of his sheep asked him about his personal life. But it didn’t take long for word to travel through the flock. He only hoped they didn’t know how bad things had gotten. “My brother will be fine. The Good Lord knows the burden we can shoulder and the relief we enjoy when He’s strengthened us. Your concern means a lot as well; that too is a blessing from God.”

  Rev. Taylor turned and began his trek to the counter outside the kitchen window where a few donuts remained next to the large urn of coffee.

  “Clement Ezzer is a very nice man. An All-American, he must really be able to kick the ball. Maybe I will understand state university better by listening to Clement, but I will still miss you Christie.”

  Marian Fitts also did not look forward to that day. “He’s a very nice man. What a pleasant surprise this Sunday morning had in store for us,” Lee’s mother said.

  Lee slept during the last hours of the afternoon. The stand of white PVC piping that he had made earlier lay by his bed. It was a simple device, saw lengths of the white plastic pipe, attach with some elbow joints and there you had it. You could place the football at almost any angle.

  Lee’s dinners at Christie’s had developed a pattern. She would have a large glass of ice water waiting for him and he would brush a kiss on her cheek which would be leaning his way. Their dinner was simple: lettuce, but with a special vinaigrette dressing made ahead of time, carrots or freshly-cut green beans, and either grilled chicken breast, canned tuna, or center cut pork chops split in half, so that one chop fed two. They took to the dinner table naturally; they could have been married for several years. Christie spoke about the spa and new fitness programs. She spoke about the two new tires she had to buy for her car, but she was okay, because she put part of her salary away for just such an expenditure. She was also saving more for expenses when she was at state. Some of her financial aid would be in the form of loans and she wondered if she would have to get a part-time job between classes. Her parents had pledged some money, but she knew they didn’t have much. She was careful not to speak about going away. Lee handled it poorly. She would stare at the painting on the wall behind Lee: a small boat moored by a casually-tied knot to a failing dock. Looming in the background was a fog of spun cotton wedged between a threatening sea and a sky stirring sharp shards of cloud. It had happened several days ago for the first time: first she saw herself in that boat then she and Lee, then Lee, poor Lee, being dragged far from the dock from which the boat had slipped its bond. Maybe he was right to be concerned about her going away, maybe she should stay.

  Lee reached for her dish and placed it on his. He looked at her; her thin fingers, the one with the tiny green sparkle on the gold band, her arms with a light glossy tan that disappeared under the edge of her thin top that stretched tightly around her shoulders and breasts. Her thin neck rose to meet the fall of fine light brown hair.

  Lee made a funny face. The young school girl that had long ago made him feel the first tingle of love, smiled. Christie was prettiest when she smiled, when the
firm round mounds below her eyes pulled to almost bursting and her eyebrows arched as if wings in ascent. The days till state university loomed. Maybe as the prediction of a weatherman for a bad storm that never materialized, state university would have life only as a faulty computer model.

  They sat together after dinner on a love seat that really could only claim to be a large chair. They listened to music. Lee would sit stiffly with his arm around Christie. She would occasionally nudge his chin with hers and he would kiss her ear and sometimes it would lead to more.

  They had spoken about Clement Ezzer at dinner and he knew he had more that he had to tell her.

  “Coach Ezzer called me this afternoon. He said for me to call him coach and told me all about a kicking camp he has in the summer for high school and college students. He told me to think about it and he also said that if I wanted he would meet me at the high school so he could see how I am doing. I told the coach that I would like to meet him at the high school, but as I was walking over here, I started to feel that I had made a very bad mistake. I do not think he will think much of what I can do, because I have not even started to practice my kicking. I will begin tomorrow and Reid will meet me at the field after he is done with work. But Christie, I am not sure I can do it, I think I better call the coach and tell him I cannot make it Saturday afternoon. I could be very embarrassed.”

  “Lee, please don’t worry so much. I’m sure that the coach is just trying to be helpful. I was very impressed with him. See how you do the next couple of days, if you still feel uncomfortable call him, but be honest with him.”

  “I have to make sure I stretch; I will never make it if I do not stretch enough. There is nothing more important to being a good kicker than stretching. I have found that I have been able to stretch better a little each day. My father always told me about stretching, and I read it in all my books and magazines.”