Hometown Legend

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Hometown Legend Page 14

by Jerry B. Jenkins


  The next morning I shaved, showered, ate, and was out of the house in twenty-five minutes. I was kinda surprised to find nobody waiting at ICU, but the night nurse, about to come off her shift, told me Kim had just left and the Raschkes were expected by mid-morning.

  “The doctor says Miss Raschke should be awake today.”

  “No kidding! She doing all right?”

  “He’s encouraged. Her temp is normal. They’ve cut back on the meds, so she’s sleeping on her own, and when her body tells her she’s rested, she’ll wake up.”

  “How long, you figure?”

  “Not long. She should be back in a regular room tomorrow.”

  I pulled a chair next to Bev’s door. The walls and the doors of all the rooms in Intensive Care were glass to give the nurses a good view. I turned the chair to face her and just sat watching. I don’t think she moved for the first twenty minutes or so, but when the day shift came on, a couple of different staffers went in to check her charts and readouts, and I think she knew things were happening. She looked to be trying to turn over, then gave up cause of all the tubes and stayed flat on her back.

  I was tempted to make some noise and wake that woman up. She had to get hungry though, didn’t she? “What time’s breakfast come round?” I said.

  Nobody answered. I turned to find the nurses’ station empty for some reason. That wouldn’t last long, but this was my chance. I looked up and down the hall, then hurried in. Bev had those little plastic oxygen feeds in her nose, and her lips looked dry. Her right hand was bruised from the IV, and her fingers were the only things moving. If they’d cut back on her medication, she was gonna start feeling worse all over. Bev closed her mouth when she breathed in, and when she breathed out her lips made a little pop.

  I found a clean washcloth in the bathroom, soaked it with warm water, and wrung it out good. Soft as I could I pulled it slow across Bev’s lips. She pressed her lips together, licked em, and exhaled again. I dabbed her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face, then drew the cloth across each cheek and over her chin, folded it, and caressed the back of her hand on either side of the IV feed.

  When I returned from putting the washcloth back a nurse was at the station, but she was on the phone and didn’t seem to notice me. I stood at the foot of Bev’s bed and watched her sleep, hisses and tones coming from the machines.

  I hated that she was here. She had to feel miserable and uncomfortable. I missed her, mainly. For days I hadn’t talked with her. There was a fragile quality about her I’d never seen. I moved to her side and slipped my hand under hers, careful to not touch the IV tube.

  How could I ever explain how I’d missed what she meant to me? I wanted to cup her face in my hands and kiss her, but I had no right. Maybe Bev cared for me too, but I wouldn’t steal a kiss while she was sleeping.

  “Breakfast!”

  I jumped and let go of Bev’s hand. So this was how they woke em up. I figured I was about to get booted, but the aide chirped a good morning at me and started pushing buttons on the bed to make room for the tray. “You wanna get her sat up?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take her hand and put your other hand behind her head while I raise the head of the bed, ’kay?” I hesitated. “C’mon! Don’t let her breakfast get cold.”

  The aide mashed a button and smoothed out the sheets near Bev’s feet while I followed orders. Bev squinted, her eyes still shut, and put her left hand down to help push herself up.

  “Morning, Miz Raschke!” the aide said. “Breakfast time, honey!”

  Bev looked at her, bleary eyed. “I can eat?” she whispered.

  “I’ll keep the shades pulled and that light off till you’re ready, ma’am. Just tell hubby when you can stand some more light.”

  I said, “Oh, it’s, I’m not the—ah …”

  Bev slowly turned to look at me. “I can eat?” she said again.

  “Call us if you need us,” the young woman said and was gone.

  Bev’s chin dropped to her chest and she shut her eyes again.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got here, Bev,” I said, lifting the cover off a pitifully small bowl of oatmeal. Next to it was one piece of dry toast, cut in half.

  She tried to turn her head to look at me again but all she could manage was to tilt toward me.

  “Want me to help you?” I said.

  “Time is it?” She sounded drunk.

  “Seven.”

  “Morning? No dinner last night.”

  “You remember last night?” I said.

  “Felt bad for you.”

  “Bev, this is Friday morning, September 21.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  I put her spoon in her hand and tried to curl her fingers around it.

  “Rag doll,” she said. “No muscles.”

  “May I feed you?”

  “Oh, Mr. Sawyer, no—” She seemed to be coming around.

  I put a finger under her chin and moved her face so she could look directly at me. “No more ‘Mr. Sawyer,’” I said.

  She tried to smile. “No? Then what?”

  “Whatever you want to call me.”

  “Boss.”

  “I don’t think that’ll work either, lady.”

  “You called me lady yesterday at the office.”

  “You weren’t at the office yesterday. Neither was I.”

  “I was sick.”

  “That was days ago. I don’t remember calling you anything.”

  “‘You okay, lady?’ you said.”

  “Did I?”

  “Um-hm.” She sighed. “Bite.”

  I took the spoon and scooped a small bit of oatmeal, touched the bottom of the spoon to my lips to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and held it to Bev’s mouth. “Wait,” she said, laughing weakly. “What’d you do?”

  “Checked the temperature. It’s okay. You want me to wipe off the germs? You think I got cooties?”

  She shook her head, looking weary enough to fall back to sleep. “That’s how you kiss somebody with bad breath.”

  “What?”

  “You kiss something else and touch their lips with it.”

  “I was just making sure it wouldn’t burn you. Now, c’mon, open up.”

  “You don’t wanna kiss me?”

  There was nothing I’d rather do, but I had no idea if she’d even remember this.

  “Don’t,” she said, “cause I need mouthwash first.”

  “Beverly!”

  “You’re embarrassed?” she said. “How’m I gonna feel?”

  I put the spoon to my lips again, kissed it loud enough for her to hear, then fed her a bite. Bev seemed to have to remember how to swallow. “Plain,” she said. “But good.”

  “More?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  I held another small bite to her lips. “Check the temperature,” she said.

  I kissed the spoon and fed her some more. Four or five more bites, all with a kiss of the spoon, and the oatmeal was gone. “Toast?” I said.

  She shook her head.

  “Anything else?”

  She nodded.

  “What? What do you want, Bev?”

  “Kiss, boss.”

  “You sure, lady?”

  “Find me mouthwash first.”

  26

  Needless to say, I couldn’t wait for the next day, but there was this matter of a football game that night. We took a 1-1 record in nonconference games into our league opener, which also happened to be Homecoming. Actually, every game at Athens City was Homecoming, because not that many people left after high school, and if they did, it was cause they’d lost their job at American Leather and couldn’t afford to come back anyway. Families and friends of the fifteen players were there, of course, and a bunch of students who didn’t care one way or the other but came out of curiosity, I think, to see if anything would happen because of all the guys Coach booted. I didn’t see any of the kicked-off kids, and a lot of their friends must have boycotted us too.

>   All that to say we had a pretty small crowd. The band and the pom pom squad were down too, and we’d lost one cheerleader whose brother was a benchwarmer who wouldn’t have played anyway.

  Otherwise it looked like Homecoming. There were the usual banners, even one for the team to break through when we headed out onto the field. But the Dickinson Dolphins had to know something was wrong when they had as many fans at the game as we did.

  Normally I don’t let anything get in the way of my focus at a game, but when I looked to see where Rachel was, she seemed so happy I had to look again. She was motioning me to come see her. The band was setting up for the national anthem, so I jogged across the track to the fence in front of the stands. Carrying two boxes full of papers, Rachel hurried down from her seat near Tee. She was laughing. “Tee was wondering if you and Coach were gonna suit up,” she said, but I think she could tell from my look that she coulda told me that later at home. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, “but two things real quick.”

  “Real quick,” I said.

  She opened the top box for me and there was a whole pile of signed petitions from people willing to see the Jack Schuler Scholarship go to saving the school. I could’ve told her that the people who hated Schuler for what he’d done to the team had signed those cause they didn’t care if nobody got the scholarship now. But I didn’t want to spoil Rachel’s fun. She’d finally started seeing progress.

  “Don’t know what I think about that, honey,” I said. “Now what else?”

  “Elvis asked if he could take me to TAG.”

  “TAG?”

  “The After Game,” she said. “A little Homecoming dance in the gym and some snacks, that’s all.”

  “It’s like a date, you know.”

  “That’s why I’m asking you. We’ll be home by midnight.”

  “You want me to say no so you’ll have an out?”

  “I’d like to go.”

  “Be wise.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Sure, but we’re clear on this boy, right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m trying to be a good influence on him.” The anthem started and I turned to head back to the team. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  • • •

  We were awful. I don’t know how else to say it. The whole first half it was Buster throwing his hat, kicking over coolers, throwing his clipboard. Nothing was working. Seemed like every series it was three failed plays and Snoot was punting. We never even got close enough for a field goal try, and the Dolphins scored 14 in the first quarter and 7 in the second.

  I felt sorry for the kids. It wasn’t like they weren’t trying. We were just asking too much of too few. Eight of em had to play on both offense and defense, and quick as they were, they hadn’t learned yet how to make the adjustment without a break. Trying to give somebody a breather, Coach sent Snoot in on defense. The Shermanater pointed him to the line and set him up against a monster. Snoot stepped across the line of scrimmage, pointed in the guy’s face, and yelled, “I’m gonna rip your head off!”

  The monster threw his head back and laughed. And when the ball was snapped, he drove Snoot to the turf and rolled him over. The little guy had to be helped off the field, all the while hollering, “Leave me out there! I wasn’t finished with him yet!”

  With us down 21-0, there was nothing to say at half time. Coach just sat there staring, and I saw a look I hadn’t seen since he came back. He would open his mouth to say something, then press his lips together, shrug, and shake his head. Finally he just pointed at me and I led the team back out onto the field.

  The second half was even worse, and Coach was furious. At one point he swept everything off the table behind the bench, cooler, paper cups, and all, then tipped over the table. Dickinson’s coach put in his scrubs when the game was out of reach, and we lost 34-0.

  Our guys were so beat up at the final gun that they just collapsed on the field. Some sat, some lay on their backs, all yanked off their helmets and sucked wind while our little crowd clapped for em out of courtesy.

  I stood waiting for em to get up. When they got off the field, Coach and I would give em their due. I thought. But when I turned to say something, he was gone. I turned in a circle and saw him marching out toward his car. I ran and caught him as he ripped off his whistle and threw it into the Mustang.

  As he dug for his keys I said, “Coach! You can’t just walk out on these boys.”

  “They won’t listen,” he said.

  “So you’re done?”

  He reached for the car door. “I gave it a shot. It’s over. It’s what the board and everybody wants anyway.”

  “You’re a coward,” I said. He laughed. We both knew it wasn’t true, but I had to get to him somehow. “When people don’t listen to you, you quit. You did it twelve years ago, and you’re doing it right now.”

  “Now, you watch it, Sawyer.”

  “No! What about not moving on until you succeed right here? What about ‘The spirit of division is our enemy.’ I believe those things. That’s why I’m still here.”

  He got in the car. “You should have left years ago, Calvin.”

  “Look,” I said. “All I know is that when you left, this town started to die. And this town, this team, Elvis, they need you. And you need them.”

  He shook his head. “Well, they don’t get the wishbone.”

  “Then teach em something else.”

  “I don’t know nothing else,” he said, and we both had to chuckle.

  “Coach, this team’s like your Mustang; they’re fast and quick. You can’t keep driving em like they’re a two-tontruck.” He looked straight ahead, and I didn’t know what else to say. “Would you just sleep on that?”

  • • •

  I never relax till Rachel’s home, so I sat on the porch strumming some chords of my favorite John Prine stuff. I’m no picker, so the neighbors were probably glad when Rachel came up the walk just before midnight and I put the guitar up. I squinted past her and waved at Elvis Jackson. He saluted shyly and kept walking.

  Rachel sat and laid her head on my shoulder.

  “He’ll be in love with you fore you know it,” I said. “Careful.”

  “You’ve always trusted me, Daddy.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

  “He knows enough to worry about you too,” she said.

  I laughed and told her about Bev. Well, not all about what happened, a course. Before she could start bugging me about it I changed the subject back to Elvis. “How was the, what’d you call it? TAG?”

  “Boring. We went for a walk. I’ve been trying to get him to see the bigger picture. I took him to the train cars.”

  Three abandoned cars sat on a stretch of track about a block long at the edge of town. When Athens City had started dying, so had the rail line. The doors had been welded open so kids couldn’t get locked in. The walls had graffiti all over em with names and years of graduation and stuff.

  When Rachel was younger, she often asked me to walk her there and let her sit and look at the names. She’d run her fingers over the names and make up stories about the people. If I let her, she’d spend hours.

  “That’s as good a place as any to give a guy the bigger picture, as you say.”

  “I think he was impressed, Daddy. Hard not to be with all those memories on the wall. That boy’s got memories he doesn’t talk about.”

  I didn’t know how much I should say. “Just between me and you, I checked with the registrar to see where he was living and he’s listed at Orville Washington’s address. Something tells me Mr. Washington doesn’t know that.”

  “Why?” she said.

  “Cause his boys played when I did and he used to come to the games. Don’t you think if he was putting up a football player, he’d be coming again?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Elvis washes his own clothes.”

  “That so?”

  She nodded. “Could he use our washer and dryer?”

  “He asked?”


  “My idea. I haven’t said anything.”

  “I wouldn’t want you doing his wash for him.”

  Rachel laughed. “Neither would I! I’d just tell him he can use our machines.”

  I stood and she followed me inside. “So, is he open to anything you’re saying?”

  “He’s listening. I promised to help him with history. I won’t hold back, Daddy. I’m not gonna waste time on a guy who’s against what’s important to me.”

  “Atta girl,” I said.

  The phone rang. “Am I calling too late?” Coach said. I told him it was okay and he said, “You got an offense that’ll work with fifteen beat-up kids?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I spose it’s some sorta newfangled passing game.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Agh!”

  “I can keep it simple and have playbooks copied by Monday practice,” I said.

  There was a long silence.

  “Do it,” he said. Least that’s what I thought he said.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “You heard me, Sawyer.”

  “Need to make sure, Coach.”

  #8220;I said, ‘Do it.’ Even saying that feels like swearing. Can I have em by tomorrow?”

  “You’re gonna call a Saturday practice after a loss on Homecoming weekend?”

  “I spose not. Fact, I’m going to see Helena tomorrow morning.”

  “How early?”

  “Early. Why?”

  “I, uh, would just be happy to go along if you needed company, but course if you don’t and you’d rather I butt out, I can do that too. I need to be back by late morning anyway.”

  Coach was silent a little too long. Then, “Why don’t you just come out and ask me what an old alkie looks like, Sawyer?”

  “Now, Coach, you know me better’n that. I’m offering to stand with ya during a tough time is all. If you’re no-thanking me I’d preciate it if you’d just say so.”

  Another long pause. “Calvin, forgive me. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

 

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