Redemption U. and other Short Stories

by Frank Perdue

  The impact had occurred just behind the driver’s seat, fully at the rear door of the sedan, where Margaret had been sitting just inside. Had he gone to his left, the full force of the other car would have slammed into the front passenger side or the right front of the vehicle. If that had happened, his wife might have been spared, but his son would have surely perished.

  Of course none of that had flashed through Carl’s mind. He just yanked the steering wheel to the right by instinct. If there was any fault to be shared, it would fall to the car maker. There were no seat belts in the older sedan.

  The day Danny was told the extent of his injuries was the same day he and Cynthia broke

  off their relationship. It wasn’t a coincidence.

  On the Monday following the fateful Saturday, shortly after lunch, two doctors entered his room. One was their family physician. The other spoke first.

  “Good afternoon young man,” he began, with a forced smile on his face. He was standing to the left of the hospital bed, which was raised at about a forty-five degree angle. One of the nurses had just left carrying Danny’s lunch tray.

  “I noticed you had a good appetite.” He was not anxious to begin the serious conversation, even though he’d had nearly the same talk many times before. Those times were with much older people. Danny had not spoken from the time the two had entered his private room.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering when the cast will be removed from your leg, and you can leave this place.”

  As a matter of fact, that thought hadn’t entered Danny’s mind. He was grieving for the loss of his mother. He didn’t know about his dad’s condition yet. Selfishly, he also questioned the decision that had placed him in the car in the first place. Still he said nothing.

  The doctor, a man who looked to be in his fifties, continued, “You might imagine your leg sustained extensive damage when it was jammed up against the engine wall, and you would be right. Not only was the kneecap shattered, but there was trauma to the rest of the leg also. You might also have a blood clot, and we’ve given you blood thinners to keep a clot from doing more damage.”

  Danny moved slightly, indicating he was aware of what the doctor was telling him. He finally spoke, “Get to the point, please doctor. Will I ever walk again?” It didn’t occur to him that he might also die, should the clot reach his heart.

  The family doctor, Dr. Eddington, shuffled his feet nervously, and the one standing by the bed cleared his throat, before speaking. “That depends on you young man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to require surgery, perhaps more than one. Are you up for it?”

  Do I have a choice?”

  The doctor, whose name was Billingsley, ignored the remark. “We can rebuild the knee. It will take time, a lot of it. We’re not sure about the clot. We can control it, but that may be all. As far as the other tissue in the leg, cosmetically we can make it look better with grafts and such, but truthfully, we don’t know how the muscles will respond, and that’s the million dollar question.”

  “So you’re saying I could be on crutches, or worse, in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.”

  Doctor Eddington answered, “That’s a worst case scenario, son. You’re strong, athletic, so you could bounce back from this.”

  Billingsley glanced at the other man disapprovingly. He didn’t like giving patients false hope, but he wouldn’t admonish the other man publicly. He was brought in as a specialist on the case, and unless he withdrew, his word would be the final one, except for the patient of course.

  “We are ready to proceed, one step at a time. All we need is your approval.” Then as an afterthought, realizing he was dealing with a boy who was still a minor, he added, “and your father’s, naturally.”

  “Where is my father? Shouldn’t he be here?”

  “He’s recuperating in another room of the hospital, I understand.” The specialist hadn’t been called in on the older man’s case and didn’t know about the blindness. “I’m sure he’ll be with you shortly.”

  The two physicians had hardly left the room, giving Danny time to think about what was said, when Cynthia Nyland and Bart James entered his room.

  They had decided to put up a false front and be cheerful in front of Danny, so they just swept in, all smiles. How could they know what had just played out in that room?

  Chapter Four

  “All of a sudden this game has settled down to a defensive struggle. With the clock winding down in the first quarter, neither team has been able to move the ball. You can almost see the frustration on the face of the State coach. I’m sure, coming in, he thought this would be a breather for his team. He really questioned why Lawrence U. would schedule a game like this. He supposed it was because they needed the money that a marquee opponent like the Spartans would add to their coffers. Or it could be the athletic director’s ambitions. Either way this score is a complete shock. And that’s the end of the first quarter, with the score Spartans seven, and the upstart Sequoias seven. Now we need to pay for this broadcast. State, Lawrence will return after this, with the ball squarely on the fifty yard line, in possession of the Spartans.”

  Carl Eames again rose, and felt his way to the refrigerator. He would celebrate the first quarter with a beer. There might not be much more to cheer about as the game continues. It was exciting so far though.

  If Danny in fact was replaced as the kicking specialist, the boy would surely be dejected upon returning home, and it would be up to his father to smooth things over, and console his son. He was already formulating a plan in his mind as he settled back down on his couch for the second quarter.

  How many college men can make a school’s football team? Don’t be too hard on the coach. He has to satisfy the athletic director and the school’s boosters to keep his job. It’s not personal. Like any corporation, it’s just business. You are a great athlete, and I’m proud of you, regardless of what happens the rest of the season.

  Maybe that would help ease his son’s disappointment.

  The announcer was speaking again. Carl was so deep in thought, he missed a few plays, and now State was in the red zone on the sixteen yard line of their opponent.

  “It’s been all on the ground this series. The much larger team continues to grind it out against the smaller defensive line of the Sequoias. Now they’re knocking on the door. Will they stay with the ground game, and their two hundred twenty-five pound tailback, Norville Wright, or will they try to surprise their opponent with a pass into the end zone? We’re about to find out, as they break the huddle and come up to the line.”

  “Just report the game man, and quit editorializing.” Carl muttered aloud.

  “As they line up, unbalanced to the right, tackle eligible, the flanker goes in motion to the right. The play clock is down to two, and there’s the snap. They just got it off in time. The quarterback drops back as if to pass, and hands off to his tailback-no he keeps the ball. It’s a naked bootleg to the left. With no one within four yards of him, Campbell scores for the mighty Spartans. They ran ten plays in the series, with not one pass. This might be the sign of things to come, as the Sequoias look tired, with hands on their hips, and a whole half to go.”

  Carl listened as they kicked the extra point. State led fourteen-seven, and they had used up four minutes with their last drive.

  Somehow Lawrence found the strength to hold off the bigger, more physical team for the rest of the half, though neither team could move the ball into the opponent’s territory, which was in part testimony to both punters, as the offenses had to start deep in their own territory.

  In the locker room at halftime Coach Battaglia congratulated his entire team for their effort. “You guys are an inspiration to me. I’ve never seen a team with more guts. These guys were picked to win by twenty-seven points, and you’ve played them almost to a tie. I know you defensive players are a little tired, and I’ll try to substitute more in the second half. Can you suck it up for thirty mor
e minutes?”

  To a man the players responded, “YEAH!”

  “We get the ball to start the second half. I want us to use up more clock, and not give the other guys much chance to go on offense. We’ll try to keep our run-pass ratio to three to one, unless we see something out there with their defense we can exploit.”

  With five minutes left before they had to return to the field, Battaglia went around the locker room, and shook the hand of every player on the team, reserves and all.

  Charlie Weingold was the only announcer in the radio booth. He was accompanied by a technician, in case the equipment went out. He used the time to go downstairs from his perch near the top of the stadium, and get a beer. His throat was really dry. To his mind the alcoholic beverage would solve the problem, though it was probably the worst thing he could drink.

  Charlie would normally have a color man in the booth with him, but he had called in at the last minute, saying he had laryngitis. Charlie had used that same excuse himself, so what could you say?

  When he returned, his engineer told him he, Charlie, had a call from the bosses, who had just wanted to congratulate him on the great job he was doing, under the circumstances. The engineer had told them the announcer had gone to the can. They said don’t worry about calling back, and keep up the good work.

  Once he was seated, the teams were back on the field, and it was time to stop the commercial tapes, and get back to work.

  Chapter Five

  Danny was almost asleep when Cynthia and Bart swept into his room. There wasn’t much else to do when the doctors and nurses weren’t probing or pampering him.

  Cynthia came up to near the head of the hospital bed on the left, while Bart hung back near the door.

  “How are you feeling, my love?”

  Danny knew the time would come when his girl would visit. He had rehearsed how it would go, in his mind. He didn’t like that Bart was in the room too, but that couldn’t be helped.

  “How do you think I feel?” He said it gruffly, on purpose.

  Cynthia shrugged his obviously confrontational tone off, and continued, cheerfully, “We wanted to come earlier, but we were told when we called, that we should wait. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” She bent down to kiss him, but he turned away.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Danny was using the same tone as before. I’ve been busy planning my life with only one leg.”

  A fearful look appeared on her face, “They haven’t decided to take your right leg off, have they?”

  “They haven’t made up their mind, but it doesn’t look good.” He’d been reading between the lines, from what the doctors had said, and, in his frame of mind he was sure he’d lose the limb.

  “Look Cyn, I need to talk to you, alone.” Danny said it loud enough for Bart to hear.

  “I ain’t no dummy. I can take a hint. Later bro.” Bart said, as he headed for the door.

  When the door had closed behind his friend, Danny wasted no time in getting to the point. “I don’t think you should come back here.”

  “What are you saying Danny?”

  “I think it’s over between us. I need some time to myself.”

  “But I love you! You said you loved me too.”

  This was the hard part. “What did you expect me to say? I’m a man. All men want the same thing. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  He remembered that they had waited to be intimate, but they both had weakened in their passion for one another, and had done the deed, only one week before the accident.

  “Oh honey, you don’t mean what you’re saying. It’s just because you’re hurt. Things will get better, and you’ll feel differently. I’ll never leave you.”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t want you. I never did really. Get out! Get out now!”

  Cynthia began to cry.

  Danny stood his ground. “What are you waiting for? Stop slobbering and leave. And don’t come back!”

  When the door closed behind her, Danny turned into his pillow, and began crying himself.

  Chapter Six

  Danny Eames endured four operations over the next three years. He was able to complete his studies in high school and his first year of college, as the operations were spread out, allowing him to heal from each before submitting him to the next.

  Having been an athlete did help immensely with his recuperation. He seemed to bounce back faster than normal. All the while his father was there supporting him.

  Carl Eames was still blind, but he was beginning to distinguish shadows, which, if nothing else, allowed him to navigate around objects better than before. He’d gotten many bruises from bumping into immovable furniture and doorways.

  When his eye specialist learned of his improvement, he was encouraged. The man in the white coat suggested more testing, realizing that corneal implantation had achieved some success. Perhaps the operation would restore some of the sight lost in the accident. It was worth more study at least. Were they to proceed however, the cost would be exorbitant.

  The driver who caused the accident was uninsured, and there was little money left from their own insurance settlement, so Carl put off any more operations for himself, at least until his son had recovered completely.

  ***

  Danny saw Cynthia one more time. It happened just before the State game. She was waiting for him outside the gym at school. He’d had a regular strength training session. It was something the team did every week on Wednesday evening.

  “Hello Danny,” she had said. He turned toward her. She was standing off to the side from the double doors of the gym. She was wearing culottes, with a pink blouse tied at her slim waist. She could have been wearing a gunnysack as far as he was concerned. She was still the most beautiful creature on the planet. He turned toward her.

  “Hey, Cyn. What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?’

  He smiled, “Of course. What’s up?”

  “Bart and I are going to be married. I thought you should hear it from me.”

  Danny rocked back on his heels. He knew something like this might happen. It had become clear to him that Bart had fallen hard. “I don’t know what to say.” He really didn’t. Somewhere in his subconscious mind, he thought they might get back together, now that he had recovered fully. He still limped, and the right leg was not as strong as it should be, but for all intents and purposes he was whole again. He felt now he had a future. But it wouldn’t be the future he’d imagined without Cynthia.

  There’d been a time, after he began to play football again, that he regretted the hurtful things he’d said to his then girl. Hell they’d almost been engaged, and he’d ripped her heart out, on purpose. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He had no chance to be whole again, at least in his mind. He had needed to cut her loose, so she could have a life, and not be tied to a cripple, one who might be chained to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He had trampled on her feelings, so that she would be able to leave that hospital room with no regrets, and not look back. He had changed the course of both their lives, without giving her a chance to dispute it.

  They’d seen each other in the halls of the university from time to time, and each would nod and go their own way. He was hurting emotionally, but she didn’t know it. Her welfare at that time was more important to him than his.

  He watched from afar as she and his best friend Bart became close. Bart was a really good guy, and Danny took some solace from that fact. At least she wouldn’t hook up with a loser. Conversely though, he wouldn’t try to undermine his buddy, where he might try to get back in Cyn’s good graces were she involved with someone else.

  He finally realized he had but one choice, “Good luck Cyn. I know you’ll be happy.”

  Chapter Seven

  “The clock is winding down, and no one will walk away from this feeling cheated. State leads, but only by a touchdown and an extra point. The final whistle could blow right now, and the players of La
wrence University could walk away with pride. The only ones hurt by this battle will be the gamblers who didn’t take the spread, twenty-seven points, what a bargain.” I wish I’d gotten a bet down,the announcer reflected knowing that anytime the odds-makers want to give that many points, no matter what the circumstances, it’s worth at least a small wager on the underdog.

  “The Spartans need only about seven more yards to be in the field goal kicker’s range. Here they come up to the line. The clock reads one minute and fifty-one seconds, in a game that will go down as a classic for the Sequoias of Lawrence University.

  There’s the snap. It’s an old-fashioned sweep, with the right guard pulling to lead the play. The blockers have overloaded the left side. They’ve got a first down, with only one defender to beat. The safety pushes the lead blocker back into the ball carrier, and slows him up enough so that the defense catches up with the play. State has a first down, and is well within field goal range but had it not been for a great defensive play on the part of Wolinski, the Sequoia safety, it could have resulted in a touchdown, and the game would have been basically over. As it is, Lawrence has their backs to the wall. The clock is down to one-forty. They could try the field goal now, and should they be successful, they’d lead by two scores. The wind is against them however, blowing at a good twenty miles an hour, so it looks like they’re going to try to get a little closer. Right now the ball is resting on the twenty-five.

  The offense is set. They’re in the shotgun formation. There’s the snap. Oh, no! The ball sailed over the QB’s head. It’s bouncing at the twenty-eight. It looks like State has recovered, no it’s Lawrence’s ball, and it’s been placed on the thirty-one in their own territory. What a turnaround! But there’s not much time left.”

  Carl sat up in his chair. He’d been just about ready to give up on the game, and turn the radio off, not wanting to hear Danny’s team lose. Now there was a chance, albeit a slim one.