Till Death Do Us Part

by Lari Smythe

  * * *

  The alarm sounded in the dark room. I slapped the silence button as quick as I could. I made a quite trip to the bathroom, drank two glasses of water and ran hot water over my wrists—there was one more place to try to get a vein. Once back in my room, I got out the medical stuff from under my bed. I was lucky this time and hit the vein on the back of my wrist on the second try. While I was lucky to hit it, the blood drained very slowly—too slowly. While I waited, I drank my last energy drink. I had to lay down, sip it and concentrate on staying conscious. I could literally feel the energy draining from my body. This was what Elizabeth had warned me about. I kept having to shake my head to remain conscious and when the bag was only three-quarters full I had to stop. I wasn't worried about what might happen to me, but if I messed this up and didn't get the blood to the Faulkners, Izzy wouldn't be rescued and she had to be rescued.

  Once I was finished, I got dressed and went back to the bathroom to brush my teeth. One look in the mirror confirmed I'd never get past Mom, so I snuck downstairs. It was tough going, I just couldn't control the spinning. Before I headed for the Rover, I wrote Mom a note.

  'I will probably be late this afternoon, but don't worry even though I know you will. We'll be safe, I promise.

  Luv, Jason'

  I made it to the Rover, but once behind the wheel driving looked impossible. There was no other choice, so I shook off as much of the delirium as I could and started the engine. The light in Mom's room came on before I got the Rover in gear, but I managed to navigate the driveway and head toward school. I hated leaving Mom like that, but she knew how important this was—she wouldn't have given me so much rope if she didn't trust me. I was definitely lucky in the parent department.

  On the way to school, I ran off the road at least twice and I'm pretty sure I ran a red light. I finally pulled to a stop in my usual parking spot, bouncing the front tires off the curb. I glanced down at the dash clock—it was early. The best plan of action seemed to be to go to Coach's office and get the other two pints of blood, refresh the ice in my cooler and bring it all back out to the Rover for safe keeping. I trusted Coach, I knew he wouldn't snoop, but there was no point in taking any more chances than necessary. Now, if I could just make it into the school.

  I'm sure if anyone was watching I looked like a drunk, staggering across the parking lot, but I finally made it to the gym door and pressed the bar. It was locked.

  "Crap, now what?" I looked toward the main entrance. It risked being seen and questions, but there wasn't any other choice. I started toward the doors using the wall to steady myself.

  I'd only taken a few steps when the gym door suddenly opened behind me. I looked back.

  "You need to get in?" A janitor asked, sizing me up and apparently deciding I was a student.

  "You mind, I left part of my homework in the locker room."

  "Hey, aren't you the quarterback? Jason—Jason Whitaker."

  "That's me." I took a step back toward him.

  "Not really supposed to let anyone in—" He looked around the parking lot and then inside the school. "Aw, won't hurt nothin', come on, I'll unlock the locker room."

  "Thanks, I really appreciate it." I did my best to walk normally as I followed him inside.

  He unlocked the locker room and reached in to turn on the lights. Across the room, I could see the door to Coach's office was slightly open.

  "Thanks, I owe you." I started into the room.

  "Really, like maybe a signed jersey or something? See, my nephew's in a bad way—broke his leg, and well he's a big fan."

  "Sure, follow me."

  "You serious?"

  He followed me down to my locker and I got out one of my clean jerseys and then we went up to Coach's office for a marker.

  I spread the jersey out on the table in front of the frig. "What your nephew's name?"

  "Jimmie."

  I scribbled, 'Get well soon, Jimmie' and then signed my name below it. "Here you go. I hope he feels better."

  "Thanks, and good luck next week." He hesitated like he was waiting for me to leave first.

  "Mind if I run down and get the energy drink out of my cooler? Coach lets me keep it in his frig."

  "Yeah, sure, just make sure you lock the door when you're finished. I'm surprised it was open. Guess he must have forgot—lucky for you and Jimmie, right?"

  "It must have been meant to be." I said. "Well, thanks again."

  "No, thank you. Jimmie's not going to believe this."

  With that, we left the office and the door opened.

  I had to sit for a few minutes when I got back to my locker—felt light headed again, but I finally made my way with the cooler back to the coach's office. I opened the frig, took out the brown bag with my name on it and pulled out one of the bags of blood and set it in the cooler with the other three. I reached in the bag and pulled out the last pint of blood—

  "Jason?"

  "Coach." I probably should have sounded shocked, but I'd been playing the odds for a long time. I lowered the bag of blood into the cooler and closed the lid. There was no point rushing, he'd clearly seen what I was holding. I drew in a deep breath and looked over at him. His face registered, confusion, concern, but in typical Coach style, not condemnation.

  "You're as white as a ghost, son." He walked over to me and motioned toward the chair next to his desk.

  I reached for my cooler.

  "It's not going anywhere. Have a seat before you keel over."

  I closed the frig and stumbled over to the chair next to his desk. Coach sat down in his chair and rocked forward.

  "Coach, this isn't what it looks—"

  "Let me see your hands."

  My gaze sank to the floor as I stuck out my hands—palms up. Coach took my left hand and gently rolled it over. He was smart, worldly and he knew I was right handed.

  "Pull up your left sleeve." he ordered.

  I slowly began to slide my sleeve up my arm. There had to be something I could say, something I could do, the crease of my arm was a bruised mess. Could I run? Not even close, I could barely walk. I didn't look up when my clumsy efforts at drawing blood were exposed.

  "The right one too." Coach said.

  I started to pull up my sleeve.

  "Just tell me, son."

  I couldn't speak, but I looked up at him and nodded. It couldn't end this way, it just couldn't. I didn't care about the game—oh sure I'd let everyone down, Coach, my team, the school, but not the one person who mattered the most, Izzy. I had to finish this.

  Coach got up and closed the door and then returned to his chair. Once seated, he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were planning on blood doping—fortunately, I know better." He let that hang there to see what I would do.

  I was still mostly, looking down at his desk, but I knew I had to man up. Coach was one of the good guys, there was nothing else to do. I looked up to face him. "Coach, ever get in one of those situations where you just can't win? No matter what you do, it isn't right."

  Coach suppressed a smile, probably remembering last year's conversation.

  "This isn't one of those times, Coach. I know exactly what's right—what has to be done. That doesn't mean it's easy, or that it will sit well with everyone, but its the right thing—the only thing to do. Last year you told me, 'sometimes things just don't line up'. It's like that."

  Coach nodded, but didn't say anything.

  "You told me, 'a man had to go with his gut, focus on what was in front of him,' remember?"

  "I remember."

  "I know there's consequences, heck, I might have ruined your last chance at State's—I feel real bad about that, but there are lives at stake, lives that are depending on me to come through."

  "This is about Izzy then?"

  I nodded.

  Coach held up his hands to keep me from saying anymore. "Your Mother know about this?"

  "Not the details, but she knows."r />
  "She'd confirm that if I checked?"

  I nodded. "I wish you wouldn't though, she's dealing the best she can, but it's been tough on her."

  "I imagine so." He glanced back at the cooler. "I don't think I want to know the details either, but nothing illegal, or dangerous?"

  "No Coach, nothing illegal and as for dangerous, well, I'm working with her parents to help bring her home."

  He leaned forward across his desk. "Is she okay?"

  "She's safe for the time being. I know you don't want any details and I appreciate that, but this should be over in a day or so—Izzy home and me back to practice."

  Coach pushed back, startling me and then stood. He walked over and put my cooler in the frig. "Put your head down, I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, got it?"

  "Got it, Coach. And Coach, I'm sorry I didn't mean to disappoint you, or let the team down."

  He looked surprised. "You did neither. This whole season has been about honoring her spirit—the spirit to step up and do what's right—to help someone besides yourself." He stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  It seemed like I'd no sooner put my head down than Coach shook my shoulder.

  "Come with me."

  Coach walked beside me all the way down to the trainer's room. Melanie, the trainer was waiting.

  "Take care of him, Mel. I really appreciate your discretion." He glanced down at me. "Who do you have for first period?"

  "Ms. Berkshire."

  "Thanks again, Mel. Let me know how he does." Coach left the training room, closing the door behind him.