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by Gump

  "What is that?" I ast.

  "A hundrit percent pure orange juice, you fool," Snake says. "You don't think I'd be runnin around out drinkin whisky at my age, do you?"

  Well, they say some things never change, but they also say wonders never cease, an I am glad ole Snake is doin the right thing.

  Well, Snake calls the same play to me, an I run out again. By now the crowd is booin us an throwin paper cups an programs an half-eaten hotdogs onto the field. This time I turn aroun an got hit in the face by a big half-rotten tomato that somebody in the stands had brought along to indicate their displeasure, I guess. As you can imagine, it thowed me off just a little, an I put my hands up toward my face, an lo an behole, Snake's pass catches me right there—so hard it knocked me down, but we is at least out of the hole.

  Now it is first an ten on our twenty, an Snake call the same play again. I am tryin to wipe the tomato off my face when Snake says, "You sort of got to watch out for them folks thowin things from the stands. They don't mean nothin by it. It's just their way down here."

  I am wishin they would find another "way."

  Anyhow, out I go, an this time before I line up I hear all this real vulgar cussin an name callin directed toward me, an I look across the line an I'll be damned if there ain't ole Curtis, the linebacker from my Alabama days, wearin the uniform of a New York Giant!

  Now, Curtis had been my ole roommate at the University for a while, at least till he thowed the outboard motor out of the athletic dorm winder onto a police car, which got him into some trouble. An later I gave him a job at the srimp company at Bayou La Batre. Long as I had known him, Curtis did not say nothin without startin it with about ten sentences of profanity, an so it was sometimes hard to figger out just what he wanted—especially when you only have about five seconds before the play starts, which was now the case. I gave him a little wave, an this seemed to surprise him so, he looked over at somebody else on his team, an that's when our play went off. I was past Curtis like a shot, even though he tried to trip me with his feet, an headed downfield, an Snake's ball was right there. I didn't even lose a step—went right on into the end zone. Touchdown!

  Everbody was jumpin all over me an huggin an all that, an when I was walkin off Curtis come up an say to me, "Nice catch, asshole," which was about as high a compliment as Curtis ever gave. Bout that time, somebody thowed a tomato an hit him with it, square in the face. It was the first time I ever saw Curtis speechless, an I felt sort of sorry for him. "Hey," I says, "they don't mean nothin by that, Curtis. It's just their way down here in New Orleans. Why, they even thow stuff at people off their Mardi Gras floats." But Curtis wadn't havin none of that, an so he took out toward the stands yellin an cussin an givin everbody the finger. Good ole Curtis.

  Well, it was a interestin afternoon. By fourth quarter we was ahead 28 to 22, an I iced the game by makin a forty-yard catch that was thowed by the second-string quarterback who had come in for Snake, who was on the sidelines gettin his leg stitched up after a Giant bit a chunk out of it. All during the last part of the game the fans be chantin, "Gump! Gump! Gump!" an when it was over, about a hundrit photographers an newspaper reporters come up an mobbed me on the field, wantin to know who I was.

  After that, my life done definitely changed. For that first game against the Giants, the Saints people gave me a check for ten thousan dollars. Next week, we done played the Chicago Bears, an I caught three more touchdown passes. The Saints people figgered out a way to pay me, they says, on "an incentive basis," which was that they would give me one thousan dollars for ever pass I catch, an a ten-thousan-dollar bonus for each touchdown I score. Well, after four more games I got nearly sixty thousan dollars in the bank an we is now 6 an 8 an movin up in the conference standins. The week before the next game, which is against the Detroit Lions, I sent Jenny Curran a check for thirty thousan dollars for little Forrest. After we whup the Detroit Lions an then the Redskins, Colts, Patriots, 49ers, an Jets, in that order, I done sent her another thirty thousan dollars, an I am figgerin that by the playoffs I will be on easy street for sure.

  But it was not that way at all.

  We done won the conference championship for our division an next have got to play the Dallas Cowboys on their home turf. Everthin is lookin up pretty good. Our men are all very confident an be slappin each other on they asses with towels in the locker room. Ole Snake, he even stopped drinkin, and was in the prime of health.

  One day one of the fellers come up to me an says, "Look here, Gump, you need to get yourself an agent."

  "A what?" I ast.

  "Agent, you dummy. Somebody to represent you and get you all the money you ever wanted. You ain't gettin paid enough around here. None of us are. But at least we got agents to deal with them bastids up at the organization. Why, you ought to be makin three times as much as you are now."

  So I took his advice an got me an agent. Mister Butterfield was his name.

  First thing Mister Butterfield does is go an start an argument with the people at the Saints organization. Pretty soon I get called in an everbody is mad at me.

  "Gump," they says, "you has already signed a contract for one thousand dollars a pass and ten thousand dollars a touchdown for this season. Now you want to go back on it. What the hell is this!"

  "I dunno," I said. "I just got this agent to..."

  "Butterfield! Agent my ass! That man is a crook. Don't you know that?"

  When I said I didn't, they tole me that Mister Butterfield had threatened to hold me out of the playoff game if they didn't give me triple what they were now.

  "Let me tell you this, Gump," the owner says, "if you miss just one game because of this ridiculous attempt at highway robbery, I will not only kick you off the team personally, but I will see to it you don't never get another job playing football anyplace—at least for money. You understand that?"

  I said I did an went on out to practice.

  That week I finally quit my job sweepin up at Wanda's strip joint. The hours was kind of gettin to me. Wanda said she understood, an anyway, she said she was gonna fire me anyhow account of it wadn't "dignified" for me to be playin football for the Saints an be her janitor at the same time. Besides, she said, "Them people ain't comin in here to look at me anymore, they is comin to look at you, you big oaf!"

  Well, the day before we was fixin to leave for the Dallas game, I gone to the post office an there is a letter there from Mobile, Alabama. It is from Jenny's mama. Now, I always get kind of excited when I hear from Jenny or anybody even connected with her, but this time, I dunno, somethin felt kind of funny. Inside the envelope was another letter, not even opened. It was the one I had sent Jenny with the last check for thirty thousan dollars. I begun to read what Mrs. Curran was tryin to tell me, but even before I finished, I wished I was dead.

  "Dear Forrest," she said. "I don't know how to tell you this. But Jenny got very sick about a month ago, and her husband, Donald, did, too. He died last week. And the next day, Jenny did, too."

  There was a bunch of other stuff she said, also, but I don't remember much of it. I kept lookin at them first lines, an my hands started tremblin an my heart begun to beat so hard I thought I was gonna faint. It was not true! It couldn't be. Not Jenny. I mean, I had knowed her all these years, ever since we was in grade school, an I had loved her too—only person besides my mama I'd ever really loved. An I just stood there while big ole tears run down onto the letter an blot out the ink except for the last few lines, which said, "I have little Forrest here with me, and he can stay as long as I can care for him, but I'm not too well myself, Forrest, and if you can find the time between your football games to come and see us, I think we'd better have a talk."

  Well, I ain't sure exactly what I done next, but somehow I got back home an thowed some stuff in a bag an caught the bus to Mobile that afternoon. It was the longest bus drive of my life, I think. I just kept goin back over all them years with Jenny an me. How she always helped me out of trouble in school—even after I
accidentally tore off her dress in the movie theater—an in college when she sang with the folk music band an I screwed up by haulin the banjo player out of the car while they was makin out, an then up in Boston when she was singin with The Cracked Eggs an I went to Harvard University an got in the Shakespeare play—an even after that, when she was up in Indianapolis workin for the retread tire company an I became a rassler an she had to tell me what a fool I was makin of mysef.... It just can't be true, I kept thinkin, over an over again, but thinkin don't make it so. I knew that deep down. I knew it was true.

  When I got to Mrs. Curran's house, it was nearly nine o'clock at night.

  "Oh, Forrest," she says, an thowed her arms around me an begun to cry, an I couldn't help it an begun cryin, too. In a little while, we went inside an she made me some milk an cookies an tried to tell me about it.

  "Nobody knows exactly what it was," she said. "They both got sick about the same time. It was very fast and they just kind of slipped away. She wasn't in any pain or anything. In fact, she was more beautiful than ever. Just laid in the bed, like I remember her as a little girl. Her very own bed. Her hair all long and pretty, and her face was just like it always was, like an angel. And then, that morning, she..."

  Mrs. Curran had to stop for a while. She wadn't cryin anymore. She just looked out the winder at the streetlight.

  "And when I went in to see her, she was gone. Lying there with her head on the pillow, almost like she was sleeping. Little Forrest was playing out on the porch, and, well, I wasn't sure what to do, but I told him to come in an kiss his mama. And he did. He didn't know. I didn't let him stay that long. We buried her the next day. Out to the Magnolia Cemetery in the family plot, alongside her daddy and her granny. Under a sugar maple tree. Little Forrest, I don't know how much he understands about it all. He don't know about his daddy. He died up in Savannah, with his folks. He knows his mama's gone, but I don't think he really understands about it."

  "Can I see it?"

  "What?" Mrs. Curran ast.

  "Where she was. Where she was when..."

  "Oh, yes, Forrest. It's right in here. Little Forrest is sleeping in there now. I've only got two..."

  "I don't want to wake him up," I says.

  "Why don't you," says Mrs. Curran. "It'll make him feel better, maybe."

  An so I gone into Jenny's bedroom. There was little Forrest asleep in her bed, didn't know nothin really about what was happenin to him. Had a teddy bear he was huggin an a big blond curl across his forehead. Mrs. Curran started to wake him up, but I ast her not to. I could almost see Jenny there, peaceful an asleep. Almost.

  "Maybe he ought to just rest tonight," I says. "They'll be time in the mornin for him to see me."

  "All right, Forrest," she says. Then she turned away. I touched his face an he turned over an give a little sigh.

  "Oh, Forrest," Mrs. Curran says, "I don't believe all this. So quick. And they all seemed so happy. Things sure do turn out bad sometime, don't they?"

  "Yes'm," I says. "They shore do." We went on out of the room.

  "Well, Forrest, I know you're tired. We've got a sofa here in the living room. I can make you a bed."

  "You know, Mrs. Curran, maybe I could sleep on that swing out on the porch. I always liked that swing, you know. Jenny an I used to sit on it an..."

  "Of course, Forrest. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets."

  So that's what I did. An all that night the wind blew, an sometime afore dawn, it begun to rain. It wadn't cold or nothin. Just a regular ole fall night for around here where I grew up. An I don't think I slept much neither. I was thinkin about Jenny an little Forrest an about my life, which, come to think of it, hadn't been much. I have done a lot of things, but I ain't done many of them very well. Also, I'm always gettin into trouble just about the time things start goin good. Which, I suppose, is the penalty you pay for bein a idiot.

  Chapter Two

  Well, the next mornin Mrs. Curran come out on the porch with a cup of coffee an a doughnut. The rain had let up a little bit, but the sky was a dark pearly gray an there was thunder growlin off someplace like God was mad.

  "I guess you'll want to go out to the cemetery," Mrs. Curran said.

  "Yeah, I guess so," I tole her. I didn't really know if I wanted to or not. I mean, somethin was tellin me I oughta, but it was the last place I really wanted to go.

  "I've got little Forrest ready," she says. "He ain't been there since... Well, I think it would be a good thing for him to go along. Just to kind of get used to it."

  I looked behind her an there he was, standin behind the screen door, lookin sort of sad an puzzled.

  "Who are you?" he ast.

  "Why, I'm Forrest. You remember when I met you a while back? Up at Savannah."

  "You're the one with the funny monkey?"

  "Yeah. Sue. But he's not a monkey. He's a purebread orangutang."

  "Where is he now? He here?"

  "Nope. Not this time," I says. "He got bidness someplace else, I reckon."

  "We're gonna go see my mama now," the little boy says, an I like to choked up right then.

  "Yeah, I know," I says.

  Mrs. Curran, she put us in the car an we drove out to the cemetery. Whole time, I got these horrible butterflies in my stomach. Little Forrest, he just lookin out the winder with big ole sad eyes, an I am wonderin what in hell is gonna happen to us all.

  It was a really pretty cemetery, as them things go. Big ole magnolia an oak trees, an we wound around an wound around till we got to a big tree an Mrs. Curran stopped the car. It was a Sunday mornin, an someplace church bells were chimin away. When we got out, little Forrest come up beside me an looked up, an so I took him by the hand an we walked to Jenny's grave. The ground was still wet from the rain, an a lot of leaves had blown down, pretty red an gold ones, shaped just like stars.

  "Is that where Mama is?" little Forrest ast.

  "Yes it is, darlin," Mrs. Curran says.

  "Can I see her?"

  "No, but she's there," says Jenny's mama. He was a brave little boy, he was, an didn't cry or nothin, like I would of if I'd been him. An after a few minutes he found hissef a stick to play with an walked off a ways by hissef.

  "I just can't believe it," Mrs. Curran said.

  "I can't neither," I says. "It ain't right."

  "I'll go back to the car now, Forrest. You probably want to be alone for a while."

  I just stood there, kind of numb, twistin my hands. Everbody I really cared for seemed to have died or somethin. Bubba an Mama, an now poor Jenny. It had begun to drizzle a little bit now, an Mrs. Curran went an got little Forrest an put him in the car. I started to walk away mysef when I heard a voice say, "Forrest, it's okay."

  I turned aroun, but ain't nobody there.

  "I said it's okay, Forrest," the voice says again. It was... It couldn't be... It was Jenny!

  Cept there still ain't nobody there.

  "Jenny!" I says.

  "Yes, Forrest. I just wanted you to know everything's gonna be all right."

  I must be goin crazy, I figgered! But then alls of a sudden I kind of seen her, just in my mind, I guess, but there she was, as beautiful as always.

  "You're gonna have to take little Forrest now," she says, "an raise him up to be strong and smart and good. I know you can do it, Forrest. You've got a very big heart."

  "But how?" I ast. "I'm a idiot."

  "No you're not!" Jenny says. "You might not be the smartest feller in town, but you've got more sense than most people. You've got a long life ahead of you, Forrest, so make the best you can of it. I've told you that for years."

  "I know, but..."

  "Anytime you really get stumped, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?"

  "No."

  "Well, I will. So go on back and get busy and try to figure out what you're gonna do next."

  "But, Jenny, I just can't believe it's you."

  "Well, it's me all right. Go on, now, Forrest," she says. "Someti
mes you act like you ain't got sense enough to get in out of the rain."

  So I gone on back to the car, soakin wet.

  "Was you talkin to somebody out there?" Mrs. Curran ast.

  "Sort of," I said. "I guess I was talkin to mysef."

  That afternoon, me an little Forrest sat in Jenny's mama's livin room an watched the New Orleans Saints play the Dallas Cowboys—or whatever it was they did with them. The Cowboys done scored four touchdowns the first quarter, an we ain't scored none. I had tried to call the stadium to explain where I was, but ain't nobody answered the phone in the locker room. I guess by the time I got around to callin, they had all done gone out on the field.

  Second quarter it was worse, an by half-time the score was forty-two to nothin, an the sportscasters were all talkin about how I wadn't there an nobody knew where I was. I finally got through to the locker room, an all of a sudden Coach Hurley got on the phone.

  "Gump, you idiot!" he hollered. "Where in hell are you!"

  I tole him Jenny had died, but he didn't seem to understand.

  "Who in hell is Jenny?" he screamed.

  It wadn't too easy to explain all this, so I just tole him she was a friend of mine. Then the owner got on the phone.

  "Gump, I tole you that if you don't show up for a game, I'm gonna fire your ass myself! And that's what I'm doin. Your ass is fired!"

  "But see," I tole him, "it was Jenny. I just found out yesterday..."

  "Don't hand me that bullshit, Gump! I know all about you and your so-called agent, Mr. Butterbutt, or whatever his name is. This is just another cheap trick to get more money. An you ain't gonna do it. Don't never come around my football team again. You hear—never!"

  "Did you explain it to them?" Mrs. Curran ast, when she came back into the room. "Yeah," I said. "Sort of."

  An so that ended my professional football playin days.

  Now I had to find some kind of job to help support little Forrest. Jenny had put most of the money I'd sent her into a bank account, an with the other thirty thousan dollars Jenny's mama had sent back to me, there was enough to earn a little interest. But it weren't gonna be enough for everthin, so I knew I had to find me some work.