He passes the check to me, indicating that I should send it down to Mom. I can’t help but peek at the amount.
My eyeballs nearly fall out of my head. Gretchen snatches the check from me and hands it to Mom, who begins to cry like a newborn baby.
“It’s not quite everything I owe you, but it’s a good start. You’ll be getting monthly payments from me until I’ve repaid you every penny,” Gretchen promises.
“But how... when . . .” Mom asks in spite of her tears.
“I’ve been scrimping and saving and stashing everything away for years, investing in the very funds I sell to my clients. Despite ups and downs in the economy and stock market, I’ve done well. I hope you know how much I regret the actions of my youth and how they’ve affected you guys since then. I couldn’t possibly be sorrier than I am. I’ve been spinning in a helix of humiliation ever since I left home, knowing how horrible I was to both of you. Please know that I’m clean and sober and making something of my life like you always wanted me to.”
“Oh, Gretchen,” Mom cries out, and her shaky hand covers her mouth. My sister slips from her chair and goes to my mother. The two of them embrace, arms enfolding each other in a warmth that spreads to all of us.
“Mommy,” Gretchen whimpers out into my mom’s shoulder.
Dad gets up and joins in the reunion, kissing my sister on the top of her head.
Tears flow as much as the love surrounding us.
The air is lighter and hope lingers high above.
My family is whole again.
We are truly blessed.
As we’re cleaning the table, putting food away, and loading the dishwasher, my cell phone rings. It’s Lora.
“Merry Christmas!” I say cheerfully.
There’s a marked silence on her end to the point where I think either the connection failed or she was just butt dialing me by accident.
Then I hear her weeping quietly.
“Lora?”
“Hayley... I don’t mean to ruin your Christmas or anything,” she starts off. “It’s my uncle.”
“Ross? What about him?”
He was fine when I talked to him on the phone last night. He was excited that he was getting turkey and dressing to eat today and hoped it wouldn’t upset his stomach. What could possibly be wrong?
“He’s taken a turn for the worse,” Lora reports. “The treatment isn’t taking. His body isn’t accepting the chemo, and the doctors are grim.”
“Grim? Like he could... ?” I can’t finish the sentence.
“He wants to see you. Can you come with Mom and me?”
My heart cracks at the thought of Ross suffering on this beautiful day of days—or of him being miserable at all. Not after what we’ve been through together and how he’s helped my family. Now I have to be there for him.
“I’ve got to make few phone calls, and then I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
I hang up and waste no time dialing the next number.
She answers on the third ring.
“Hey, Chloe... It’s Hayley. I know it’s Christmas, but I really need your help . . .”
Chapter Forty-Four
’Tis not always in a physician’s power to cure the sick; at times the disease is stronger than trained art.
—Ovid
I tuck the collar of my long winter coat up under my chin as I walk down the well-lit hallway of the fourth floor of Maxwell Memorial Hospital.
In front of Ross’s door, I take a gulp of air into my lungs for strength. The room is dark, silent, and there’s a stiffness in the air. Light from the television splashes against the walls dancing over the machines Ross is hooked up to.
Slowly, I approach his bed in my sneakered feet, trying not to wake him up. My new friend has nearly withered away to nothing in a matter of months, about the same amount of time I was hospitalized. Only, my situation seems to have a happy ending. Ross will not be as lucky.
I sit unobtrusively, choking on the lump of disbelief in my throat. It seems like only yesterday that Ross stood at midfield on homecoming night as his niece was crowned. And now . . .
No.
Stop.
I can’t cry.
Not here. Not now.
I wave my hand in front of my eyes, fighting off the sting.
I have to be strong for the friend who has supported me through my darkest hours. It’s hard to accept the bitter pill that sometimes cancer wins out, no matter how hard we struggle to battle it with all our might.
Damn cancer.
Chemicals, medication, surgery, and even prayers often fall short in the war against this malevolent disease.
I clench my fists tighter, staving off the hurt and anger at my utter inability to change things.
I want to scream until there’s no air left in my lungs.
Until I have no voice left in me.
Until my friend is made whole again.
But... it won’t happen.
I have to make the best of the situation, although I tighten my hands on the arm of the chair as the resentment toward the disease churns inside me.
Hell and damnation to cancer and everything it stands for, the evil and destructive blight.
I lift my hand from the chair and extend it over Ross’s on top of the sheet. “It’s not fair,” I whisper, unaware that I’ve spoken out loud.
His eyes flutter open, and the corner of his mouth moves into a half smile. “Better to learn early that life’s not fair.”
“Hi, you,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”
His hand flips over, and we hold hands. An oxygen hose is attached to his nose, and his voice is very hoarse. “Is it Christmas? I guess I’ve lost track of the days.”
“It snowed, too,” I tell him.
“Nice.” His eyes close again for a moment or two, and his breathing becomes a tad labored. I don’t know whether to go get the nurse or not. He holds me in place and opens his eyes again. “Seriously, Hayley. Life is nothing but a series of hurdles. We can never give up or give in.”
“I’ve tried to be that way.”
He moves his eyes to mine. “You have. And you must stay that way. You have no idea what an inspiration you’ve been to me.”
The creak of the door grabs my attention from the patient, but not in a bad way. It’s what I’ve been waiting for since I made the phone call to Chloe.
It’s time.
“I’ll be right back, Ross. I’ve got a huge surprise for you. A Christmas present to end all Christmas presents.”
“What have you done, Hayley?” he asks with a chuckle, followed by a racking cough.
“I’ve brought you some Christmas cheer.”
I flick the overhead light on and then remove my long coat. Underneath, I’m wearing one of my PHS cheerleader uniforms. I open the door and in rush the members of the entire varsity squad, all in uniform and cheering—just as we planned. Lora leads the march with a huge balloon bouquet full of vibrant colors and curly ribbons, followed by Madison, Tara, and Hannah with their pompoms raised high as they make their way to the far side of the room. Chloe tumbles through the door, executing a perfect backflip right there in front of Ross’s bed. Whoa! Ashlee, Ashleigh, and Melanie enter, bringing a small Christmas tree decorated with garland, lights, and homemade ornaments. Lauren, Brittney, and Samantha pull up the rear, carrying a humongous cheer basket they pulled together from their homes, since stores are closed. Miss Lorraine slips in last, not holding back her tears of appreciation.
“Oh my God!” Ross proclaims. He manages to sit up in bed, and he beams at the display before him. “My own personal cheer squad.”
We line up in front of him and start clapping. Our captain starts the cheer, and we follow her lead:
“Ross... attack!” Clap.
“A-T-T . . .” Clap. “A-C-K!”
“Ross . . .” Clap. “Attack!”
I cross my hands in the proper motions, fist tight, claps cupped. This is the most important performance of my short che
erleading career. We shift to the next chant:
“Fight, fight tonight! Fight blue, fight red, fight white! Fight, fight tonight!”
It’s all worth it just to see the smile on Ross’s face. Miss Lorraine sits on the edge of his bed, clapping along with us. A couple of nurses pop their head into the room to tell us to keep it down, but nothing will stop us from our cheer focus.
“Jam! Say what? Say what? Jam! That’s what we do... We jam!”
Turn, spin, clap.
Point. “We do it for you!”
Quick squat to the floor and back up. “We turn around, we touch the ground, get back up and jam it down.”
“Go Ross!”
“We love you, Ross!”
“You rock it!”
“Merry Christmas!”
The cheers ring out from each of us as we surround him with as much liveliness and joy as possible.
Brittney retrieves the cheer basket, which we set on the bed next to him.
“Check it out, Uncle Ross,” Lora exclaims. “Everything you love.”
“I can see that,” he exclaims. There’s a stack of magazines on golf, boating, sports, skiing, and biking. A dozen or so Snickers bars are scattered around. A Christmas teddy bear with a stocking cap smiles out. There are protein drinks, bottled water, candy canes, some bedroom slippers, and some pens and crossword puzzle books.
Ross’s eyes cloud with tears. “Y’all have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t thank you enough... leaving your families on Christmas Day to be here”—his voice catches momentarily and then he whispers—“with me.”
Chloe steps forward. “It was all Hayley’s idea. She called me and we made it happen.”
I smile her way and wink. Teamwork—that’s what it’s all about. “Yes, we did.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” sweet little Madi says.
“Me either,” several girls repeat.
Lora places her head on Ross’s chest and hugs him. “I love you, Uncle Ross.”
“I love you, too, monkey.” He glances around. “You’re a special group of girls. You may not have taken the best squad trophy at camp, but you’re first place in my book. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is the best Christmas ever. God bless you all.”
Chloe smiles. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“We should let you get your rest,” I say.
The girls line up to hug Ross and wish him well.
When Chloe heads for the door, I stop her with my hand.
We face each other and I smile. Then I hug her to me. “Thank you so much for helping me pull this off, Chloe.”
She squeezes me back and says sweetly, “It was the right thing to do.”
We grab hands for a sec, and a moment passes between us; then she’s gone.
Just Miss Lorraine, Lora, and I are left, and I sense I need to give the small family their space. I pick up my coat and thread my arms through the sleeves.
“Hayley, don’t leave yet,” Ross says through a struggled breath. “I have something to tell you.”
I lean toward him so he doesn’t have to sit up. “Yeah, Ross?”
He breathes out. “Thank you.”
Slipping into my French II, I smile and say, “Votre bienvenue.”
I move again to leave, but he stops me with his hand on my arm. “Wait. Hayley... I’m so proud of you.” He struggles a bit to get the words out. “I’m... I’m proud to have known you.”
My chest pings in agony at his use of past tense words. “Ross, don’t . . .”
“Shhh... let me talk.”
I smile. “Yes, sir.”
“You have a calling, Hayley. A spokesperson for those... those who’ve overcome cancer. You never let the bastard disease grind you down. You never let it win. Hell, you never let it in the ball game. You fought it and kicked its ass.” He stops and licks his dry lips. “I never stood a chance. Never. I wasn’t lucky enough to defeat leukemia. But I was fortunate enough to have met you and watched you say the hell with what anyone thought of you... standing down there with your bandage, crutches, and bald head. You’re an inspiration. You cheer. You laugh. You live.”
He tugs my hand up to his lips and gives me a kiss. “Keep being strong, Hayley. For you. For me. For everyone who’s had to deal with the shit cancer throws at you. Spread your cheer. Don’t... don’t let it end. Most of all... keep being you. Because, you, Hayley Matthews... you, you... radiate.”
The tears escape from my eyes over his meaningful, yet challenging words. “Th-th-thanks, Ross. I’ll keep making you proud.”
“I know you will.” Our hands shake once more, and then he releases me.
“Get some sleep, Ross. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”
“Have a nice life, Hayley.”
I shift past the major tear in my heart that Ross is ripping away by succumbing to this nasty disease. I wave to my partner and slip to the door, waving one last time. Ross wearily lifts his hand and I exit.
With the door closed, I lean back into it with my head against the wood.
I’m not psychic or intuitive, but I know in my heart of heart’s that this is probably the last time I’ll ever see my friend again.
***
The next day, Dad and I are watching a preview of the college bowl games coming up when my BlackBerry rings.
It’s Lora’s number on the caller ID.
I don’t even say anything.
I just click the button.
A second or two passes in deathly silence.
I know what’s coming next.
“He wasn’t as lucky as you, Hayley,” she says through her sobs. “He didn’t discover it in time. Don’t ever, ever forget how blessed and fortunate you are.”
“I know, Lora. Believe me, I know.”
I’m a lucky one . . .
I beat it.
I click the Off phone button and sigh.
Game On CEO and founder Ross Scott passed away at 11:11 a.m. at the age of thirty-four.
Chapter Forty-Five
If you believe in yourself and have dedication and pride—and never quit, you’ll be a winner. The price of victory is high but so are the rewards.
—Paul W. “Bear” Bryant
Life goes on, renewing itself from the souls that remain.
Ross’s funeral is simple, elegant, and respectful.
I return to school after the holiday break, more focused and more determined to make the most of my life. My limp is subsiding, and my hair is growing like a weed. I know it’s only a matter of time before I’ll be back to my old self—if that person even still exists.
When you’ve been touched by a physical and mental challenge such as cancer, the rest of life’s obstacles seem like a piece of cake. I have plans now for my future; promises to keep; college letters to wait for and an academic curriculum to get me to my professional Alps.
Friday night of the first week of school, I come down the stairs in my black cocktail dress and black high heels.
Gabriel is waiting in the living room with my parents, dressed in a gray suit and a fashionably striped tie. He looks so mature and grown up... and I can envision us, advancing together through our lives and careers.
“You look beautiful, Hayley,” Mom notes. “Shall we get going?”
Mom and Dad are dressed up, too, in their finest to accompany us to the PHS football banquet at the Hyatt next to the Maxwell State University campus. My parents drive Mom’s car, and Gabriel and I follow in my Honda—I let him drive.
The room is perfectly decorated in red, white, and blue streamers, silver stars, and white-draped walls. The state championship trophy sits at the head table, along with the rest of the awards to be given out this evening.
Gabriel and I sit with Lora and Will, Ashlee and Anthony Ricketts, and Hannah and Scoop Dogg, dining on a fancy spinach salad, prime rib, baked potato, and grilled asparagus, followed by a chocolate raspberry cheesecake.
The sportscaster from WFFA in Mo
ntgomery is the keynote/motivational speaker. He mostly talks about his own meteoric rise in the local media. Gabriel and I are too busy holding hands and totally flirting the whole time to be listening to this guy blather on. Finally, it’s time for the awards.
Coach Gaither stands at the head table with his assistant coaches and our principal, Mr. Parish. Mrs. Ingram gets to sit up front, as well. The rest of the team, cheerleaders, and other important participants, such as the trainers and team doctors, are all seated at round tables on the right with family members on the left. There’s a crackle in the atmosphere, and we’re all sparked by having worked together as a cohesive unit to win the school’s first-ever state championship.
For me, it was so much more of a feat than simply that, but I’m happy to be part of the ceremony.
Mrs. Ingram stands up and presents the letters for cheerleading to all of us. I’m proud to file by with the rest of the girls to accept the thick knit blue P outlined in red and white.
I clap like a crazy person when Gabriel receives a special-recognition plaque for training the players. Marquis Richardson wins the trophy for “Play of the Year” for his touchdown in the championship game. Daniel receives “Best Offensive Weapon,” and Anthony gets “Best Defensive Player.” More awards swap hands as parents cry, clap, snap pictures, and get video of the event over the course of half an hour.
“What’s left to give out?” I ask Lora, since I’m a newbie to this banquet.
“MVP is the last one,” she says. “I bet Daniel gets it.”
“Or Skipper,” I add.
Coach Gaither stands at the podium and clears his throat. “As you’re all very much aware, we had a dream season, the type we coaches plan for, but never know we can execute until all of the components come together. This year, every person in this room counted toward the undefeated season we enjoyed. You parents, who brought your kids to practice, who sat in the stands and rooted them on, and who support them in all they do. The coaches and staff, who are dedicated to making every play count. The band and cheerleaders with their team spirit and unswerving devotion. All of these workings are what make a winner. But there’s one person—one Most Valuable Player—who shined far above the expectations of anyone else by far.”
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