“Shit. I never saw so many kids in wheelchairs,” Hank said under his breath.
Roxanne looked at him. He had turned completely around to avoid seeing the kids. He fussed with some cables that didn’t need fussing.
“Well I’ll be. You’re squeamish around these kids, aren’t you? But you didn’t realize it until now. You’ll have to join my friend Laura on kitchen duty. She finds it difficult too.”
“Laura Howard? We issued her an elf outfit. Said she was going to be handing out gifts. Your Santa okayed it so we went along even though she wasn’t on your list.” He kept his gaze on her, away from the growing crowd of eager, sick children, she noticed. Then she realized what he said.
“Laura? My Laura? That’s incredible. She hates this affair at least as much as I love it. She would make you look brave.” Beaming, Roxanne slapped Hank’s back.
“Ah, give me a break, will ya. So I’m not as cold-blooded as you.”
She laughed at his half-hearted accusation. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re seeing, Hank. I know what these kids look like to you. They’re young and innocent and suffering. And I know how that makes you feel. You think, why should that poor boy go without a leg at his tender age? And here I am in perfect health. And there’s nothing I can do for him. That’s what you’re thinking. You’re feeling guilty and helpless and it’s tough to take. It’s tough to stare the pain in the eyes and look beyond it. But that’s what you have to do. Because you can help them. We all can, and believe it or not, they can still feel joy. Let me tell you, Hank, there’s nothing on this earth that’s ever given me more pleasure than helping to put the light of joy into the eyes of one of these kids. Nothing is better.”
“Oh? Is that right?” Barry’s voice came up behind her and she turned. His half-smile bore a devilish slant so that she was sure Hank caught his innuendo.
She laughed. Had she really been exaggerating? She surveyed the group and spotted Fred, the boy with a recently amputated leg. In spite of the lump in her throat, she watched until she found the light in his eyes as he spotted the huge bedecked Christmas tree.
No. She decided she hadn’t exaggerated. “You ought to give it a try,” she told him as she licked her lips, wondering how he’d react.
“I’ll give it my best shot.” He lowered his voice, “But it’ll be tough to beat some of my other experiences.” He pinned her with his eyes. Their laser blue intensity caught her with calculated precision like a specimen butterfly pinned to a board.
She swallowed. Why did everything he say sound like a challenge to her?
“Before you two get kinky here, I’m leaving. It’s not all that bad,” Hank said waving his hand over the crowd of children. But Roxanne saw that the moment his eyes rested on a single child, he turned away and walked off.
She glanced back at Barry. He watched the crowd of children, nurses, and parents, his face unreadable. She’d seen how he’d been with Lindy. It had been difficult for him, but he was made of steel. Most parents push past that first startling feeling of pain to search for the hope. He’d done well to see the hope beyond Lindy’s suffering.
This was a tougher test. The sheer numbers of these kids could overwhelm a person. Roxanne remembered her first Christmas party. The agony of it was fresh in her mind. But then it was the first Christmas in years that she’d found any joy at all. It had been as wonderful as it had been sad.
It was better than being alone.
“Cue me when it’s time to start. I’m going to go have a butt. By the way, you look adorable in that getup.” Barry winked at her, then turned and headed for the makeshift kitchen in the nearby nurses’ lounge.
Someone must have turned up the Christmas music to be heard over the excited din of the children. Roxanne smiled at the scene as she hummed along. There was not one self-pitying youngster among them. They were as happy as any bunch of kids at Christmas. No, happier.
It was time for the on-air introduction of the party and Roxanne had to force herself to stay out of the line of the camera while the man-woman team they had lined up to replace her did their jobs. Santa and his elves were scheduled to arrive shortly. Santa would read a note from one of the kids who wanted to meet Barry Dennis for his Christmas present. That’s when they’d bring him in.
She flushed with excitement as Santa told the tall young boy that he would get his wish. Two elves went through the door back stage and, one on each side, escorted a ribboned and bowed Barry Dennis out into the group of children to stand towering before the boy.
Roxanne watched with the TV audience as Barry shook the boy’s good hand. His other was wrapped in a sling at his side. If she was smart she wouldn’t have looked close enough to notice the fingers missing. But her eyes automatically searched out the defect she knew would be there. There was no stopping the unbearable pang. Until she saw the boy’s face as Barry talked to him about basketball, even challenging him to a one-on-one when he got out.
This surprised her and the boy too. He only hesitated a second before nodding his acceptance. Barry then proceeded to assist in the handing out of the rest of the gifts while the host and hostess interviewed some children, doctors and parents. Last for the show came the brief interview with Barry where he plugged the fund and announced the number to call for pledges. It fell just shy of a benefit telethon and wasn’t quite a documentary. It pleased Roxanne to think the show was its own unique brand of journalism.
The cameras were being rolled out after the wrap-up and it was time for her to join the kids, who were now being served cake and cookies and juice and milk. She walked toward Michael, the boy with the amputated leg. His mother and father stood with him, fussing over his snack.
“Hey Mike, how come you didn’t ask for an autographed basketball?” Roxanne asked, smiling. His parents nearly gasped.
“Don’t have much use for a basketball anymore.” He tried a smile and looked down.
“Sure you do. You still have your hands don’t you? Wait right here.” Roxanne winked and left him as his mother was about to protest. But there was no way she would be deterred from her mission. She’d asked the nurses if there were any kids that needed a little extra help with a positive attitude and Michael’s name came up more than once. He’d been a little too resigned to his condition and wasn’t responding as he should in PT.
After retrieving a specially wrapped box from its hiding spot in a closet, Roxanne stepped up to Barry and commanded his attention away from a group of small boys with adoring eyes. She smiled at them then whispered in Barry’s ear. “Can you do me a favor?”
He looked at her with sudden anticipation in his grin and she had to laugh.
“Of course,” he said.
“It’s not what you think. Come with me.” She led him in the direction of Michael, but they stopped before they reached him. Roxanne watched his mother remove the plate of uneaten cake from his lap.
“Will you call to him and toss him this present?” Roxanne looked up at Barry. He hesitated a second before nodding his head and allowing the one-sided grin to show.
“Yo,” he called to the boy who looked up in time to catch the package as it sailed straight toward his lap. Roxanne’s chest pounded at the incredulous look on the boy’s face. She grabbed Barry’s arm and dragged him over to talk.
“That was a good catch. Considering.” Roxanne gave Mike another wink. He almost smiled in return. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“I guess so.” He looked up at Barry.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Barry, this is Mike. He used to be a Celtics fan…”
“I still am!” Mike blurted out as Barry put out his hand to shake. Roxanne noticed the boy’s parents staring and introduced them.
“Well, open it,” Barry finally prompted Mike to rip open the package. There was a basketball underneath it all—not a new one. Roxanne had retrieved this one from the Celtics ball boy after a game and had all the team members and coaches sign it. Now she was taking great pleasure in watching Mi
ke’s mouth agape with astonishment as he inspected the ball. His mouth slowly curved to form the brightest smile she’d ever seen on the young boy’s face. He looked up at Barry with adoration. Roxanne could see the immediate emotion it triggered in Barry’s eyes.
“It’s all her doing, Mike.” Barry pointed at Roxanne. “All I do is play the game. Roxanne is the one who mends children’s hearts. What do you think? Is she doing a good job?” Barry looked at her as Mike and his parents chorused their gratitude at her thoughtfulness.
“I couldn’t very well have a basketball hoop put in your room without giving you a ball to throw through it, now could I?” She couldn’t resist mentioning the second part of her surprise. She’d talked his doctors and nurses into it only because they’d been desperate to try anything to help his poor performance in PT.
“No? You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m serious. Go see for yourself.” With that, he insisted his parents take him to try it out and Barry promised to come by sometime and try it out too.
“You realize, of course, that you’re going to have to visit him now and make good on your promise?” Roxanne told Barry as soon as Mike was out of earshot. This was the second commitment she’d heard him make to the kids tonight.
“I know. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”
“That’s why you don’t make promises.”
“Not often.”
“Until tonight. Let’s go see Lindy now,” she said.
He frowned at her. “You don’t have to come with me,” he said. But the way he looked at her, it seemed like he wanted her there even though he knew it was his responsibility. She scoffed at herself for trying to read too much into that one look. But he so rarely gave anything away that the temptation was too great.
“Of course I will. Al’s not here and there won’t be any media lurking around her room. I promise I won’t get you in trouble. The party’s under control here. I’ll come back later to help clean up. Besides, I have a gift for her.” Her nerves suddenly shook her as she thought of the gift. She was taking a big chance. She chewed her lip as they rode the elevator up. She coached herself to get past whatever Barry and Lindy’s initial reactions were—because they were bound to be bad. She knew it would be worth it in the long run.
In fact, as they stepped into the hall and headed toward Lindy’s room, Roxanne became convinced that the little girl would treasure this gift for a long time.
“Daddy!” Lindy straightened when they walked in the room. He fought the inward recoiling he felt when she called him that. His reaction seemed to have gotten far worse these days. Now that his responsibilities as her dad had grown more real. Fatherhood was no longer a notion that loomed on the periphery of his world. It had intruded with a full vengeance on his consciousness. He had to work hard to quell his defenses against the assault.
He smiled. She gave him such an eager bright grin in return, his mind eased. “How are you, angel? We missed you at the party.” He walked to the plastic tent that separated them and put his arm into the rubber glove that allowed him to pat her head and stroke her long light hair. The desire to hug her right then squeezed his chest tight. He touched her shoulder. His guilt must be getting the better of him.
“But you didn’t miss everything, Lindy. Santa had a few presents for you. We brought them along.” Roxanne brought a package from behind her back. She’d stashed it in Lindy’s room earlier.
Barry cleared his throat. “I have a few things for you too. Pretty soon when you get out of this contraption you’ll have an army of things to play with.”
Lindy looked at him, then to Roxanne and back again. Her eyes brightened. Then she burst into tears and clutched at his rubber-clad hand held to her shoulder. Jesus, he couldn’t take this. He wasn’t cut out to be a little girl’s father. Her tears ripped at his soul. God damn that woman for dying and condemning this poor little girl to him!
He swept his free hand over his face and held onto her shoulder, desperate for something to say, when Roxanne spoke.
“What is it, honey? It’s all right. You cry if you want to. Tell us all about it.” Roxanne had moved to the other side of the tent and put her arm into the glove on that side to comfort his child. He lifted his eyes to her face.
He only hoped what he felt didn’t show. Raw anguish. He looked back at Lindy.
“I want Mommy,” Lindy cried, her pleading eyes locked on his.
That was it. He stood and removed his hand from the glove, startling both Lindy and Roxanne. Then he reached up and unfastened the plastic and pushed it aside. He had seen them do it when they had to examine her. Her wide eyes had lost the pleading and her tears stopped. He smiled.
He bent down over her bed carefully. And as if she were as fragile as a snowflake, he moved close, gathered her in his arms and held her. She clutched him and her tears started up again in a soft sobbing. But this time he could stand it. This time it felt like there was more hope than despair in those sobs.
Or maybe it was in himself he felt that hope.
“Barry,” Roxanne uttered his name on a sob, then whirled around before he looked up. She rushed from the room. He wanted her back. He wanted her to hold him like he was holding his daughter. The thought slipped by his consciousness before he could stop it. He cursed himself for it.
Eventually his daughter stopped crying and fell asleep. He straightened himself. Unfolding his limbs and turning, he was startled to see Roxanne there with Dr. Oki, watching him.
Everyone else went home except Barry and Roxanne. He stayed to clean up after the party. But there he sat on the uncomfortable couch with her in the visitors’ lounge, talking about life. He felt compelled to talk to her and, at the same time, he fought the notion that it was a stupid thing to do.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me this season. No. I guess that’s not true completely,” he said.
“What is it? Some mysterious virus invented by a mad doctor the LA Lakers hired to stop you?”
They laughed.
“I wish. Then I’d have someone to blame besides myself.”
“Don’t be crazy. You’re dealing with a crisis. In spite of what the media says, you’ve always been mortal. Maybe you were given a brief sojourn on Mount Olympus, but now you’re back down here with the rest of us. You should be proud of your career even if you never make another basket,” Roxanne insisted.
“You talk like it’s an easy trip down off Mount Olympus.”
“No. I know it’s not. I’ve seen firsthand how the very people who put you on a pedestal, have been the first to deride you for your sudden clay feet,” she said. “That can’t feel too good.”
He laughed again and heard the bitterness sound through. “I’m only thirty-one years old, Roxanne. Clay feet aren’t supposed to come for years. I’m supposed to be at my pinnacle. People were expecting big things this season. This was supposed to be my best season yet.”
“There you go, believing your press again. What do they know? Do they know you? What you really want? What you need? And what it cost you to get to this point?” Her voice was intense. He studied her face as he considered her words.
“I have a feeling they don’t care.” He wondered if she cared. “It’s been all my own doing after all. This is what I wanted, what I’ve always wanted and needed. And I never paid attention to the cost before.” He thought of Lindy and looked away from Roxanne. He shrugged as if the gesture could rid him of the despair that seemed to be overtaking him.
How the hell had he gotten into this discussion with Roxanne? He should stop now before he said any more, before either of them said something they couldn’t forget or ignore. But the part of his mind that was thinking those self-preserving thoughts was not in control. And as he opened his mouth, he suspected that his hormones might be in charge. And therefore she had control over him. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and then faced her.
“My ambition at any cost was self-inflicted, and my failures have
been self-inflicted too. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why it’s suddenly so difficult to want to be the best, to want to win every night. What used to be automatic for me now takes a major effort of will. And I don’t always have it.”
Roxanne laughed a gentle laugh. “You’re burnt out, Barry.”
Anger flashed through him and he looked at her as if she held the torch. “Burnt out? What the hell does that mean? That’s an empty cop-out phrase. The bottom line is…I don’t want to lose my ambition. I do still want to win. I still want to be the best. But…” He looked blankly at her. His anger drained from him. This is what he could never figure out. But what? What’s changed?
“Maybe you want more than that, Barry. Maybe you’re tired of paying the price.”
He sucked in his breath and jumped back from her touch. “The hell I am. I’m working harder than ever.” He looked away from her and shut down his mind. No way was he tired of winning; of being the best. What else was there?
She shifted closer and stroked her finger along his tensed jaw line. It didn’t help him relax any. He grabbed her hand and pulled it from his face. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He looked into her eyes and remembered the first night they talked, when they spoke of the same things.
But it was different now. She was different now. The twinkle of her smile was still in her eyes, but there was something else there too. Concern? Did she really care for him, or was he merely an opponent in a game? Someone to play with?
“Honey, you may be working harder than ever, but I also know you’re playing harder than ever—and I don’t mean basketball. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Of course you would say that because I’m playing with you. How the hell do you know what my life was like before I met you? How the hell do you know what it’s like now? You think I’m tired of paying the price? Tired of living like a basketball machine?” He paused and glared at her, willing the knowing twinkle from her eyes. “You’re wrong. I know what I’ve said before, but I still want to be the best. Even if it means living like a robot most of the time because I don’t have forever. In a few years it’ll all be over and I’ll retire—still the best. Then there’ll be plenty of time for the rest of it. I don’t even know what I’ll do then. I don’t ever think about it. And I sure as hell don’t look forward to it.”
Playing the Game Page 24
