“And I will talk about those depressing things in a minute, but right now, I want to talk about football.” He flashed a grin at the crowd.
“Some of you might remember the game we played against UCLA in December of 1991. In the last minute-thirty, the game was tied. We were on offense at their thirty. It was third and eight and Coach had given me the signal for a screen to the sideline near their twenty.
“We were in huddle and Malik says to me,” Kevin’s voice dropped an octave. “‘Bomb me right in the zone, Lightnin.’ That dumb-ass Jackson is droppin’ off me.’”
Felice laughed along with the crowd at Kevin’s near perfect imitation of Malik’s Detroit street-kid accent.
“I said, ‘Coach’ll cut me if it doesn’t work.’ He said, ‘It’ll work. Do it.’
“So, I get under center and make the call. The ball’s snapped.”
Kevin walked to the right of the lectern, his slight limp evident, and turned to his left, with the microphone in his right hand.
“I drop back and take a look. There’s Malik, sure enough, headed toward right side of the end zone with that dumb-ass Jackson beaten. UCLA’s coaches must have been dumb too because they had Malik in single coverage. I haul it.”
Kevin was going to mime passing the microphone to the end of the platform. As he looked long, past the end of the platform, he could see one of the goals on the practice field. He lowered the microphone.
On the right side of the end zone, he thought he saw a tall, rangy figure suited-up in black, white and orange, his helmet gleaming in the sunshine.
The figure waved a gloved hand at him to make the toss. He thought he could make out the number on the jersey: eighty-eight.
Kevin dropped the microphone. To his left, on his chair, there just happened to be a football. He picked it up and passed it with all his might in the direction of the figure in the end zone. He still had it!
The ball reached its mark and Kevin thought he saw the figure catch the ball and start to do an end zone dance. Then the figure pointed in Kevin’s direction, as if to say, “YOU!!”
At that moment, an unseasonable breeze blew through Kevin’s long, graying hair. It was a kind and comforting relief.
“Touchdown,” Kevin said to himself. Then he remembered what he was there for. He turned to the crowd.
For a moment, he had forgotten they existed. The only sound Kevin could hear was crying. Nearly everyone in the audience was in tears.
“Kevin...” Kevin whirled to his right.
Felice had lumbered up onto the platform and he hadn’t even noticed. He looked down at the platform and picked up the microphone.
“Honey, will you sit down, please,” he said into the microphone as he led her to his chair. “I know it would be kind of appropriate if our firstborn came out on a football field, but I’d just as soon not have that happen.” The crowd laughed as he headed back to the lectern.
“Nag, nag, nag.” The mike picked up Felice’s voice and the crowd erupted into an even more raucous and cathartic laughter.
“Sorry, folks. I was in another dimension for a moment.” The crowd cheered.
Two weeks later, Kevin stood on the balcony outside of the obstetrics waiting room at NMU hospital. Mentally, he knew that this building was the same one in which he had recovered from his gunshot wound, and the same place in which he had nearly gone out of his mind with grief and anger. But spiritually, it was now another place altogether.
The road between that day and this one had had more twists than he could have imagined way back then. Way back then? It had only been four years since the murder of his friend and the end of his football career, but it almost seemed as though that life had been part of a mirror universe.
He had just taken the bar exam, something he
never would have dreamed of doing in that other life. The only way he knew for sure that that other life had been his was that it had one thing in common with his present life: Felice.
That other NMU hospital had seemed like a tomb, but this one, was all about life, the life of his and Felice’s child.
Only now, since the dedication of the NMU’s Malik Hayes Practice Facility, was he able to think about Malik without being overwhelmed with emotion. He had no idea how he would have borne it had Felice left him. In the months following the shooting, he had thought she might. He had been so full of bitterness that he tried to push everyone away, especially the one person whom he loved most. He stood now, shaking his head and smiling at his own remembered stupidity.
Well, Malik, I’m a dad now. Hopefully, my boy hasn’t inherited too many of my moron genes. Malik would have had something sarcastic, and no doubt, hilarious to say about that one. Kevin looked dead into the spectacular sun, which was setting over the West Mesa. Could you ask God to keep an eye on our boy when I’m not around, make sure he’s okay?
You know it, Lightnin’! said a voice inside Kevin’s head. He turned, heading back in to kiss his wife and to marvel at his son.
Her mother didn’t exaggerated when she had told her daughter how painful childbirth was. Felice screamed and, yes, railed at her husband (who was in the delivery room), as the waves of each contraction gripped her. But, finally, the doctor pulled out that bawling, wriggling mass of human being that she and Kevin had created. A huge wriggling mass: ten pounds even and twenty-three inches long! She supposed that she expected it to be so. She had weighed nine pounds herself at birth and Kevin, who had been a month premature, had, nevertheless, weighed a respectable six pounds, two ounces.
They planned the arrival of their son perfectly, right after Kevin’s graduation from NMU Law School. Felice herself was still in law school, but they hadn’t wanted to wait any longer to start a family, especially not with her parents and Herbert Hart bugging them about it constantly.
The hospital room door opened, as the nurse brought her son in for feeding. Her son! How can I be somebody’s Mom? What if I forget to feed him or change him? What if I let
something happen to him? What if someone does something to him? What in the Hell were we thinking? But there was no backing out now. The nurse was putting the child into her arms.
“Now, just remember what we told you dear,” the middle-aged woman said. “It’s not easy at first. Your milk may not come right away, so you might have to give him the bottle at first. I’ll set it here.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. That’s a big, handsome boy you’ve got there. I like bringing him to you just so I can pick him up.” The nurse smoothed the child’s amazing mass of curly, dark hair.
“Well, let’s see if I can do this.” She untied the back of the hospital gown and pulled the front down just far enough to expose her right breast. She put her son’s mouth next to the nipple. He immediately responded.
“I think there’s some milk in there,” Felice said as she looked hopefully at the nurse.
“Looks like it, hon.” The boy was drinking enthusiastically. “Whadaya know? First try successful. Doesn’t happen very often. Guess yours believes in eating.”
“Just like his mother.” Felice and the nurse looked up as Kevin walked through the door.
“I’ll leave the new family alone now,” the nurse said as she walked toward the door.
“Thanks,” Felice called to her. “You’re a pretty good nurse.”
The woman, radiant, turned back to her. “Why thank you, sweetheart. And don’t worry. You’re already a wonderful mother.”
Felice looked up at her.
“You first-timers are always scared,” the nurse continued. “I was. Don’t worry. It gets easier. I should know with my five.”
“Whew!” Felice shook her head unable to grasp the thought of giving birth to that many children. “You’re a better woman than I am.”
“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see, won’t we?” The nurse smiled and left them alone.
“Five, huh? Wanna get started tomorrow?” Kevin was sitting on the edge of
the bed. With her right leg, Felice nearly caused him to fall on the floor.
“You’ll be lucky if you get me to agree to number two. Let’s just concentrate on big man here, shall we?”
“Gladly.” Kevin stroked his son’s hair.
A day later, there was a small, slightly rowdy crowd outside the maternity ward; all there to view the Hart baby. Felice’s parents and brother, Kevin’s father, Laura and Adrienne Anderson, and Amanda Bain were alternately knocking on the window and cooing at the new life. Joseph and Herbert were teasing each other good-naturedly about which grandfather the boy would be named for, while Vetra and Laura were trading war stories about their own experiences with childbirth. However, Amanda, Adrienne, and Joey were silently staring with wonder at the baby.
The two younger women were also eavesdropping on the reminiscences of the older women with a mixture of dread and anticipation. And Joey felt a strange, but not unpleasant sensation--he was an uncle.
Just then, one of the nurses wheeled out Felice with Kevin walking beside the chair.
“Hi family!” exclaimed Felice. “Wanna see the kid up close and personal-like?” All shouted their assent.
The nurse went into the nursery, scooped up the child and brought him out. To the oohs and ahhs of the group, she slowly deposited him into Felice’s arms.
Joseph was there first. He bent down on one knee. Misty-eyed, he kissed his first grandchild lovingly on the forehead.
“Welcome, Grandson. Your grandma and I welcome you into the world.” He stood up.
“Herb?”
Herbert smiled at Joseph and bent down to offer a benediction of his own.
“I welcome you into the world, grandson. Your grandma Carla has gone to be with the Lord, but, hopefully, one day, a very, very long time from now, you’ll get to meet her.”
“Amanda.” Felice turned her face towards her former nemesis, now trusted friend. “Come say ‘hi’ to Malik.”
Amanda’s eyes widened, and then she smiled radiantly and walked over. But before she made her acquaintance with the baby, she kissed Felice on the forehead.
“Thank you.”
One month later...
The church was packed with family and friends. Felice stood next to Kevin as they both watched their dozing son. The boy’s head was nestled against Joey’s shoulder. The older boy was now nearly fourteen, over six-feet, and still growing. The priest was explaining the duties of Godparents to him and to a majestic-looking Adrienne.
The infant fussed a bit as he shifted against his uncle’s shoulder. Felice smiled as she watched Joey soothe her son.
“He’s good with him,” Kevin whispered to her.
“What a surprise that is,” she whispered back. “Who’d have thought that a teenage boy only interested in basketball, football, girls, and food would make the perfect baby-sitter?”
Kevin laughed and then cut it off as he spotted his mother-in-law’s frown out of the corner of his eye.
Vetra’s scowl briefly turned to a smile as she turned to look at Herbert Hart, who was standing next to her. He was clasping tightly the hand of his new wife, Laura Anderson.
The priest was speaking more loudly and everyone in the church was immediately silent.
“I christen you Malik Shabazz Hart, in the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. May you always walk in the Spirit of the Lord and always call on the Name of Jesus Christ. Joseph LeCroix, Junior and Adrienne Anderson, you are charged with the spiritual upbringing of this child of the Lord. Do you accept your responsibilities?”
“We do,” they said in unison.
“Then, I pronounce you the Godparents of this child of the Lord.” He traced the sign of the cross on the boy’s forehead.
“In the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The entire church genuflected.
Just then, Malik looked up from Joey’s shoulder. He seemed to be looking at his parents. A wide smile spread across his caramel-colored face.
Felice and Kevin looked at him, then smiled happily back at him.
Kevin put his arms around Felice.
“Malik’s still with us,” he whispered in wonder.
“Yes, my love. He still lives.”
The End
Tale of the Tigers: Love is Not a Game Page 20