The Emancipation of Evan Walls

by Jeffrey Blount

  “And Jennie is lucky. She will have you. She is a child born of both races. You were a child forced in between the races. How the two of you got there may not matter. What does matter is that Jennie has your experience to live by, and maybe she will be better able to deal with life because of that. You should write down what you’ve told me. Jennie could use it. It might keep her from being all those things you fear. The snowball, the misfit. Maybe you should write a book.”

  “And we’d have to go in a cave to live.”

  “So? We’ll be in it together. And that’s what counts, right? Us together. Isn’t that the most important thing you will teach Jennie?”

  “You mean what Mama Jennie said. ‘They don’t put no food on my table.’”

  “Yeah. That.”

  “Yes, I’ll tell her that. After all, it keeps me sane knowing that Bojack and you are always there for me. No matter how uncomfortable I am elsewhere, I’m always comfortable with you two, and now Jennie. And it also answers your question of why I only hang around with Glen. He’s a great friend, and that’s enough for me. I’ve gotten used to being alone otherwise, and I’m happy with that. I don’t need anything more. I don’t want anything more.”

  We smiled at each other. Then she changed the direction of our talk. I guess for her there were still pieces of the puzzle missing.

  “Do you think about it often? That other life, I mean?”

  “No. Over the years, I’ve learned to block it out. If I didn’t develop that skill, I’d be a wreck all the time. It never would have come up again if Jennie hadn’t been born.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “Sometimes I think of him. Not very often. I wonder if he’s watched me play on television. When we won the first Super Bowl, I thought of him, and during my interview from the locker room, I thought about asking him to contact me through the team.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want to deal with the question of why I didn’t know where my brother was.”

  “What do you think has happened to him?”

  “I think he’s dead. And if he’s not really dead, he’s probably the living dead. He’s the second Lost Boy from Canaan. When I think about him that way, my heart breaks. It wasn’t his fault, what went on with us. They came between us with their demands, and he didn’t have the support I had in Mama Jennie and Bojack. I feel sorry for him, and unlike my parents, I do miss him.”

  “What about your folks? Are they still in Canaan?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do they do now?”

  “According to Bojack, they live just as they did when they threw me out. They’re reclusive.”

  “Does he know how they’ve dealt with your fame?”

  “Bojack says they won’t discuss me. The word around is that you don’t ask Treeny and Augustus Walls about their boys. I guess Daddy beat some guy half to death at the packing plant for teasing him about throwing out the bank.”

  “Of course, I know Tex plays in LA, but what about Eddie and Dee?”

  “I’ve never heard from them. Bojack has bumped into them over the years. They still live in Canaan, and they’re married with kids.”

  “Why haven’t they contacted you, do you think?”

  “They’re embarrassed. I’m embarrassed. It would never be the same for us, but I don’t have any bad feelings toward them. I think nothing but the best thoughts when I think of them.”

  “And you know I’ve been waiting to ask you about this since she popped up in the story.”

  I laughed. “I cannot believe you waited this long to ask!”

  “Well, I didn’t feel like she was the first thing I ought to ask you about.”

  “And now?” I asked, still laughing.

  “Is it the Patty Cunningham?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said and broke out laughing. “You actually slept with the Patty Cunningham?”

  “She wasn’t a famous actress then.”

  “But you were her first?”

  “I was.”

  “Can I tell my friends?”

  “Izzy!”

  “Okay, okay. How about just Ava?”

  “I give up.”

  “And what about her? Have you heard from her?”

  “Yes. After the first Super Bowl, she called. She asked me if I was happy. I told her that at times I was still troubled by my past, but that I was extremely happy with my life overall.”

  “Did she ask if you were married?”

  “She read that I was. In Sports Illustrated. I told her you were the best part of my life.”

  “Well, that must have made her feel great.”

  “It actually did. You don’t know Patty. She’s a realist. She was happy that I’d found someone I could love and who loved me without conditions.”

  “Is she happy?”

  “She says so. She’s married to a sculptor. She said he’s a genuine person. She doesn’t want any kids.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep. Like I said, she’s a realist. As much as we’d like to be a part of each other’s life, we’ve moved on, and we have spouses who probably wouldn’t want us hanging out with our first loves.”

  “Yeah, I guess the fact that she’s a movie star would wear off pretty fast.”

  “I guess. At any rate, we said we’d be around if one of us needed the other. Do you mind that I said that?”

  “Oh, of course not,” she replied. “Just one more question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you have any pleasant memories from Canaan?”

  “Sometimes I dream about playing in that old sandbox that Daddy made out of a used tractor tire. And at other times, I think about how when it snowed in Canaan, people didn’t drive cars. They drove tractors. I can remember going to the grocery store once during a really bad snowstorm. There wasn’t one car or truck in the entire parking lot. It was a sea of tractors. I like that picture. It still makes me smile. And I guess the only other times I think about are the moments before the session began that night. I think about how happy I was helping Mama make Kool-Aid, and how content I was pulling the wings off a fly to feed Mantis. Everything after that makes my skin turn cold.”

  Izzy paddled her raft around next to mine. She hugged me as best we could, and we shared a long kiss. Jennie yawned beneath us, and we laughed. Now, I was beginning to feel good.

  “Do you still like Evan Walls?” I asked her. “The man I am. With all the extra baggage?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied. “You’re my heart.”

  Jennie woke up, and we gathered ourselves and walked back to the house. We played with her the rest of the afternoon, giving her our undivided attention. Later, after she was in bed, Izzy and I cooked dinner. Izzy put on a dress that I’d bought for her in New York, and I wore her favorite suit. We put the table in front of the big window and looked out at the night as we ate. We spoke about our future—no more about the past.

  Later, I was in bed in the loft, lying on my side, staring out of the same window. I watched what seemed like a sea of fireflies lighting up the night. Izzy climbed in behind me and snuggled her body next to mine. She kissed me softly on the back of the neck. She whispered sweetly in my ear. “Goodnight, Mr. Somebody. I love you.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I did have a great-grandmother named Mama Jennie. I passed her name to my character to honor her and the place of respect she held in my life. However, we did not have the relationship dramatized in this book. I give thanks to my mother, Doris Delk Blount, for providing the heart, soul and love that is this character.

  There was no Bojack in my life. I give thanks to my father, R. Edward Blount, for providing the heart, soul and love that is this character.

  To my family, my wife, Jeanne Meserve, my son, Jake, my daughter, Julia, and son-in-law, Jeffrey Kenny—I thank you for agreeing to take this journey with me. It means the world to me. You are my heart.


  I want to thank my amazingly caring and dedicated agent, Marly Rusoff, who ushered my work and me through the publishing maze. I can’t begin to explain . . .

  Many, many thanks to Koehler Books. To publisher, John Koehler, executive editor, Joe Coccaro and editor Hannah Woodlan. I so appreciate you all for your clear, reasoned and thoughtful guidance from manuscript to novel.

  To Leslie Wells for helping me find the story within.

  To Wiley Saichek for helping me bring it to the world.

  I want to thank my friends who have suffered the pain of listening to me talk about this project for years and those who have influenced it: John and Anne Edwards; my brother from another mother, Perry Nick Bell; Mary O’Donohue Olen, Zachary Kiesch, David Hanson, Demetrea Triantafilledes, Kevin Barr, Frank Sesno, Skip Halpern, John and Lynn Sachs, Steve Piacente, Linda Lipsett, Lois and Michael Fingerhut, Mary Batten, Doris Gwaltney, Joy Lerner, Stephen Kelin, Joe and Dabney Cortina, Lisa Youngblood Hall, Patrick Hentges, Jim Madures, Brandford “Sonny” Stanley, Nikki Madures, Julia McIver, Marty Meserve, Susie Meserve, Ben Davis, Jenet Lynn Dechary, Kimberly Golden Malmgren, Lindsay Nielsen, Jeffrey Hunsberger and Susan Wandmacher.

  And finally, thank you to the gentleman at the copying shop on Wisconsin Avenue across from the post office. Back in the day, before email, I handed him a 400-page manuscript in a box. He opened the box to check out the contents. He looked at the title page, looked up with a big smile on his face and said, “Is this you? You wrote this?” I told him that it was definitely me. He closed the box, patted the top and said, “We will take great care with this.” He reached out and took my hand. Thank you, sir. I hope my story finds its way to you.