Needless to say, I didn’t hear a single remark about how stupid I looked with my helmet for the duration of time in which I wore it. Even when kids pointed out how silly I looked in my hand-me-down oversized shoes, or with an embarrassing hole in a shirt or pair of pants, they later apologized, fearing I’d tell James. But they all refrained from remarking about the helmet, other than asking about how much longer I’d have to wear it.
The Old Man didn’t say a single word to me for the entire post-accident first month. I wonder what was going through his mind. While he rarely said much to me or my brothers when he got home from work unless Feenie frenzied him into beating one or two of us, we could usually count on him for a little conversation on weekends. But even then, at least for the first month, he did not utter a single word in my direction.
On Saturday after my first week back in school, Jeff was talking to me about going hunting for Thanksgiving turkey, discussing the need to get one by Wednesday. During the conversation, I started to feel a little weird. I developed a sudden tunnel vision. I watched his mouth moving, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.
The next thing I remembered, I was being driven down the hollow in old man Webster’s truck. An ambulance was waiting at the end of the hollow. By the time they strapped me to the gurney and put me in the ambulance, I was fully aware of everything occurring around me. I remained alert all the way to the hospital, responding quickly and clearly to all questions asked by the attending paramedic. I asked Feenie, who was riding in the ambulance with me, if I could go back home. The paramedic insisted we needed to see a doctor before I could go back home, saying that he didn’t hold the necessary authority to sign off on my release.
I spent yet another night in the hospital, though not being as thoroughly examined as I had been on my previous stay. When I got back home, Jeff walked off of the porch to greet me. He said “Mike, one minute you were staring out into space, the next you’re on the floor, flopping around like a fish on land. Looked like something right out of the Exorcist.”
He said Lee ran down to the Webster’s to call the ambulance. Mr. Webster then apparently drove up to our house to get me and take me to the main road to meet the ambulance. Though I didn’t recall much of what initially transpired, I did remember everything forward from the time I was driven those last fifty yards toward the waiting ambulance.
Feenie talked to my brothers about what to do if I had a seizure when she wasn’t around. “It might look scary,” she said. “It’s best to just let it play out, unless you see him turning blue. That means that he is having trouble breathing and may have swallowed his tongue, which means that whoever is closest will have to reach into his mouth and pull it out of his throat.”
I thought sarcastically “right. I can see any of my brothers jumping at the chance to reach into my slimy mouth to rescue me.” I couldn’t imagine doing the same for any of them. But, then again, perhaps if I really thought one of them might die if I didn’t help, I’d probably close my eyes and do it.
I had four more seizures in the next few months. By the time the second one came, I began to notice symptoms, which allowed me to prepare. Tunnel vision was immediately preceded by a sudden queasiness. So as soon as I felt queasy, I simply lay down on the floor and let nature take its course. When the seizure was over, I asked any brothers close by if they had put their dirty hands into my mouth. Thankfully, on no occasion did I need rescuing.
I followed the same routine every morning. I’d put on my helmet, get pestered by Eddie until I took my medicine, then grab a peanut butter sandwich and head to school. On weekends and holidays, instead of school, I tossed mounds of dirt for Eddie to hit.
After about ten weeks, I finally got to take the helmet off. Eddie said that I looked like Mike again. Feenie told me I had to take it easy for a few weeks. That wasn’t a problem since it was mid January and already bitterly cold outside. Eddie and I went down to the creek anyway. We had to stay within earshot of the house, in case I had a seizure. The water was very cold, so we had to catch what we could from the creek bank using a fish net that The Old Man brought home earlier in the year. Given the circumstances, it was a pretty good afternoon’s catch, with each of us winding up with four.
My health gradually improved over the next few months. Spring was nearing and I was anxious to get back out in the creek. I had spent the whole winter being treated with kid gloves. It was unlike anything I had experienced before. Not physically fighting all the time was nice, but it came at far too steep a price. I wasn’t allowed to play football or even wrestle with any of my brothers.
I steadily began to remember tiny bits and pieces about the day I fell. I remembered that I had been chasing Debbie Roe, a girl I had a crush on, before I slipped. I remembered veering out of the way, after rounding the corner, so I wouldn’t run over two girls playing jacks on the sidewalk. I remembered sliding down the hill, thinking that Mrs. Poston was going to punish me if she saw me all the way down at the railing. I remembered bracing for the impact with one the posts, all the while trying my very best to maneuver my body so that I would hit it with something other than my groin area. I never did recall anything else before waking up in the hospital.
By mid-March, Lee started fighting with me again, saying “I’m gettin’ sick of you getting off easy, while everyone else gets the shit beat out of them.” I actually didn’t mind fighting with him. I was happy that he didn’t feel the need to treat me so delicately. Unfortunately for him, James or Jeff usually came to my defense and roughed him up a bit each time he got the notion to fight.
I knew that I was back to normal when Feenie and The Old Man started beating me again. Of course, at first, both were careful not to strike me about the head. However, after a while, Feenie didn’t care where she hit, as long as she inflicted pain. Predictably, the beatings became more severe. Soon, it was just like old times. I was getting hit with ashtrays, pokers, cups, belts, etc…
In a peculiar way, I actually kind of welcomed it. While I detested the abuse, I was delighted that they no longer saw me as a sickly child. I could finally play and do all the stuff that my brothers did.
Springtime delivered warm temperatures. Eddie and I made our initial expedition up the creek earlier than usual that year. The water was cold, but provided we didn’t stay in too long, we had a pretty fun time. We split our catch of twenty three crawdads evenly, with each taking eleven and placing the extra, smallest one back into the creek.
Chapter 9: The Car
By the time summer arrived, the fall from the top of the retaining wall was but a distant memory. I still had to take my medication daily, but I was doing everything my brothers did. I looked forward to a summer on the creek. Eddie worked a lot at the greenhouse, while James worked at the bakery. Donnie was getting big enough to help hoe the garden, and I was told to teach him how.
I was getting ready to head to the garden one morning, having just finished bringing in the day’s water. I had just picked up the hoe when I noticed Mark Webster running up the hollow, toward our house. Though I couldn’t make out what he was saying, there was undeniable urgency in his voice. The very moment he reached the yard, he looked straight at The Old Man and exclaimed “you have a call! Mom wants you to please come now!”
Knowing something extraordinary must had happened, Feenie, The Old Man and Mark Webster hopped into the brown Riviera and roared down the road. I still don’t know how that big old car managed to get across the bridge that day. I could swear that, at no time racing across it, did all four tires touch the surface at the same time. The car swerved as it entered onto the bridge, with the front of the car pointed to the northeast. As it exited, it pointed to the southeast.
Rarely did anyone telephone The Old Man. Mr. Webster agreed to let my parents use his telephone in case of emergency. People would call their house and they, in turn, would send Mark up to tell us. I can recall only other such time they sent Mark up to tell The Old Man he had a phone call: the day when
Old man Waybright got killed in a car accident.
As was always the case when Feenie and The Old Man were gone, Jeff was the de facto parent. Though I had little in common with him, Jeff was a good enough big brother. He teased us a bit, but he never beat us or asked us if we wanted to try his ice cream or anything like that.
He somehow knew what made each of my parents tick, and he used that understanding to position himself as confidant for each.
Four years older than I, he was much less excitable. He didn’t seem to get beaten nearly as much as the rest of us. We couldn’t be certain as to why, but James, Eddie, Lee and I wondered if he held a secret over Feenie that she didn’t want known. If he held one over her, then he likely held one over The Old Man, too, because even he seldom beat Jeff.
We liked Jeff because he fought so much with Joseph. Though they didn’t live in the same house, when the two got together, they seemed to just end up fighting. If they spent twenty or fewer minutes together, a fight between the two could be avoided. However, as their time together increased, the probability of a fistfight increased at least as much. I don’t know why they fought so much, but I was happy when Jeff got the better of it, like the last time they fought.
Six of us were playing a competitive little game of three on three. Jeff, The Old Man and I teamed up against Lee, James and Eddie. Joseph was unable to control his emotions of not being selected to play in that particular game. He ran across the court and took the basketball, threatening to put a hole in it if he couldn’t play. Though we all told him he’d get in the next game, he refused to give us back the ball.
Jeff told Joseph it was high time for him to stop acting “like a little Barbie doll.”
Joseph made a few gestures at Jeff, motioning for him to go over and “just try to take the ball. I dare ya!”
Since both seemed equally willing, The Old Man told them to keep it clean. I guess he figured both would vent their respective differences and then we could get back to our game.
Before we even got into a good viewing position, Joseph tried to blindside Jeff. Knowing full well he might try something like that, Jeff bobbed his head back six inches, then immediately connected with a bone-crunching, straight left to Joseph’s jaw, sending him straight to the ground. That was the first time I had personally witnessed a knockout.
Less than five seconds had passed before the time Joseph put the ball down to fight and the time he himself was on the ground. Though I was happy Jeff put him down quickly, I was a bit disappointed Joseph didn’t take more of a beating that day.
While I hoped it not to be the case, I sensed that would be the last time they would fight, since it was so one-sided. I despised Joseph since the day he asked me to try his ice cream. I’m not sure why Eddie hated him. Maybe it was just because I hated him. I know we both cheered mightily for Jeff.
I asked Jeff why my parents left in such a hurry. He said “Eddie got hit by a car. He’s in the hospital. Mom and Dad are headin’ over there now.”
Again, I refer back to those television shows. I had seen many where someone got hit by a car, only to end up laying in the middle of the road, either paralyzed and unable to move, or outright dead. Just a week earlier, I saw part a police show over at Granny’s, where someone went through the windshield of a police car, leaving blood everywhere.
Fearing the worst, I anxiously asked Jeff “is he alive? Is he going to be able to come home?”
Of course he didn’t know, but I think he sensed my concern, saying “he’ll be ok, but he’ll need to stay in the hospital for a while. He probably won’t be home for a few days.”
Though Jeff had always known I loved crawdad hunting, he never came down to the creek with Eddie and me. So when he said “come on, let’s head down to the creek and catch some crawdads,” I figured he was trying to help ease my mind.
Jeff and I spent the next couple of hours on the creek. He was never very good at catching crawdads. You’ve heard that saying “practice makes perfect?” Well, since he never practiced, I reasoned, I shouldn’t have expected him to be very good. But I was fine with him just picking up the rocks and letting me do the catching. I was thankful he took the time and made the effort to get in the creek.
It was late when Feenie and The Old Man got home. I tried to wait up to see if Eddie was coming home with them, but I fell asleep on the floor in the living room next to Lee before they made it home. I don’t know how I could have slept through the whole night, but it was morning when I woke up.
As soon as my eyes opened, I looked around for Eddie. He wasn’t in the house. I really wanted to see him. I wanted to wake Feenie and The Old Man up to ask them how Eddie was. But I didn’t dare touch that wool blanket. I knew if I woke them up, they would not let me ever go and see Eddie. I went down to the creek for a bit.
An hour passed, and I headed back home to make a peanut butter sandwich. The Old Man woke up, needing to pee. I followed him up to the outhouse and asked “is Eddie going to be ok?”
His eyes still focused on the outhouse door, he said “yep, but he’s going to be in the hospital for a little while. He got pretty messed up.”
“Can he walk?” I asked, hoping the news wasn’t too bad. In some of those television shows, people couldn’t walk again after they got hit by a car.
“Not yet, but he should be able to get up and around in a few days.”
Relieved to hear that, I asked if we could go and see him. He said “not today or tomorrow. I’ll take you over on Tuesday.”
I was anxious for Tuesday to arrive. I was bored because I had no one to play with, so I went to the creek to try and pass the time. I was actually happy that Tink and Sis came out to tease me. I could never throw a rock far enough to make it to their front porch, but Lord knows I tried. With each throw, they laughed and teased me about my “sissy” arm. I wished I could hit one of them squarely between the eyes with a sharp, pointy rock, but it was probably for the best that I didn’t. Tink was a lot bigger than me. She probably would have beaten me up.
I woke up early on Tuesday. The sun hadn’t become visible yet, but it started to get light outside. In the early morning, when we went outside to get the water, we’d see tons of worms just lying around on the ground. I figured they came up to bathe in the dew that drenched the early morning grass. Eddie figured they simply came out to drink. Regardless, to pass time, I set out to collect the ten biggest I could find.
As I walked down the steps, I was stunned by how many birds there were, walking about the yard, feasting. They all got their fill and left, and still there were lots of worms that hadn’t made it back to their holes. It was on that Tuesday morning that I finally understood that saying “the early bird gets the worm”
I collected ten or so of the largest ones before going back inside. Since it was still very early, I figured it best that I not try and wake my parents up, at least not directly. Though I dared not move the blanket, I managed to let them know I was ready to go to visit my brother. I jumped down off of the couch, onto the floor, over and over again. I knew I risked getting my butt whipped, but that was one whipping I would just have to take. I was going to see Eddie!
The Old Man peeked his head out from behind the blanket and shouted “what the hell is your problem? Can’t you see we’re trying to catch up on some sleep? Jesus, boy, I got half a mind to kick the livin’ dog shit out of you.” His tone was angry, but not serious enough to indicate that he’d throw on some pants and try to chase me down.
I stopped jumping, having achieved my goal. I had already got all the water needed for the day. It took me ten trips to the well, but I filled three five gallon buckets. Lee had enough to do the dishes and still have plenty left over for cooking, if he got a hankering to make some oatmeal.
I told The Old Man I already got the water and asked if we could go see Eddie. I was disappointed to learn that visiting hours went from nine in the morning until eleven, then again from six at night until eight. “Wake me up in about an hour. We�
��ll get over there as soon as they open up visiting hours,” he said.
Donnie came with us, asking my parents a lot of questions I already knew the answers to. My mind wandered, wondering what condition Eddie would be in. I imagined him in a whole body cast. I also imagined he’d have to wear a helmet, just like I did, after my fall.
The inside of the hospital seemed bigger than I remembered. Scores of immobile, old people sat in the front lobby. I figured some of them must have lived there, since they didn’t appear to be going anywhere. Something was always being said over the intercom.
The Old Man grabbed me by the arm, knelt to one knee, and said “boy, when you see your brother, you don’t touch him. They got him wrapped up pretty good, and he don’t need you poking at him. If you touch him, you’re only going to make him hurt more. You understand?”
I said I understood. I just wanted to see Eddie. I wanted to ask him when he could come home and catch crawdads.
Two beds filled the room. Nobody was in the one next to the doorway. Eddie was in the one next to the window, about fifteen feet from the door. His torso was all wrapped up, and he had casts on both his right arm and his left leg. His face looked ok, except for a large spot on his forehead wrapped in gauze. We used that same type of gauze many times over the course of our childhoods.
“Eddie!” I screeched, running toward him.
The Old Man grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me off the floor, saying “boy, what did I say? Don’t touch him. You can talk to him, but you better not be poking at him.”
Three Minutes More Page 8
