My Name Is River Blue

by Noah James Adams

  "I coached pee wee football about ten years ago and during the first week of practice, I reminded one of the kids of his grandfather, so he started calling me "Papa" and the other kids picked it up. My friends thought it was funny and began to call me "Papa" and it snowballed. By the end of the year everyone was using my new nickname."

  Papa stood and stepped off the bleacher to the ground. He juggled the football from one hand to the other and spoke again. "What do you say? Want to throw the ball around some?"

  I saw a big ring on Papa's right ring finger.

  "What kind of ring is that?" I asked.

  Papa stuck his hand out closer to me. "High School Football 4-A state championship ring from when I played quarterback at Harper Springs High."

  A vision filled my head of Papa, as a high school quarterback, barking out signals before taking the snap and dropping back to pass. I had seen a Harper Springs High game once when Mr. Bonner took all the boys from the home. The image faded as Papa's voice broke through.

  "Well?" Papa said.

  "What?" I didn't remember a question.

  "I think you were daydreaming," said Papa, smiling. "I asked you again if you wanted to throw the ball around with me."

  "No. Maybe another day." I still didn't trust him enough, and playing with him would be the same as admitting I was wrong about him.

  "Okay, I'll be around a while if you change your mind. By the way, what's your name?"

  "River. River Blue."

  Papa's face brightened. "Oh, so you're the new boy living at Tolley House with Hal and Jenny, and that means your caseworker is probably Amy Martin. Tell them you met me. We've all been good friends a long time."

  Dammit! It was just my luck to curse a friend of my guardians. I could picture him giving the Mackeys all the evidence they needed to prove they were right about me. They would say that I couldn't control myself in public and ground me from going to the park. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?

  "You gonna rat me out? About how I talked to you?"

  Papa appeared to think it over a moment. "No, not this time. You obviously recalled something that upset you, and you lost control. All I ask is that I don't hear you speak to me or anyone else that way again. It doesn't look good on you, and I, for one, don't deserve it. Let me know if you decide you want to play ball."

  I was afraid that Papa wouldn't keep his word, and I would lose my newfound freedom, but I was wrong. He never told, and if I had known him better, I would have never doubted him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Over the next two weeks, I walked alone to the park each day. I jogged the trail, ran the track, explored the woods, and sometimes watched a pickup game of baseball or football. I saw Papa many of those days, and at first, I tried to avoid him, but he always popped up close enough to speak to me. Any time we met, even when he was already working with another boy on his football skills, Papa always invited me to "throw the ball around."

  After turning him down many times, one day when Papa was alone at the park, he asked me again if I wanted to play. I really did want to join him, but I couldn't admit it. By that time, I believed that he was harmless, but I couldn't give something for nothing.

  It was my mindset after years in state care, shaped more by my time in Stockwell than any other place I had lived. If I gave in to him for something he wanted more than I did, or even something we equally desired, then he would win, and it would somehow make the man stronger than I was. It seems silly now, but I had to come out on top in any trade or agreement I made. That particular day, before I could decline his offer, Papa gave me a way to make an acceptable deal. In doing so, he changed my life.

  "River, I know you don't really want to play with an old guy like me, but you'd be doing me a big favor because I'm really bored," explained Papa. "If you want, when we're done, we could walk over to McDonald's for lunch, if you're good with that. My treat."

  "You're saying all I have to do is play catch, and you'll buy me McDonald's?"

  "Sure. Anything you want."

  "Ten dollars worth?"

  "Anything you want and as much as you want," agreed Papa.

  I had eaten in restaurants, including fast food places, less than five times in my life, and though I preferred healthier food, my mouth watered. "Give me ten dollars now for lunch, and I'll throw the ball with you for an hour."

  "Sounds reasonable. Deal?" Papa held out his hand to me.

  I was much bigger and stronger than most kids my age were, but I had to look up to Papa, who was at least four inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than I was. I could plainly see that the man was made of hard muscle, and not the gym variety, but the kind you get from real work on a farm. I decided the first day we met that he could kill me in a fight, but that didn't stop me from giving him a warning along with my handshake.

  "Deal," I agreed. "Just remember that I'm tougher than I act, and ten bucks don't buy you nothing but throwing the ball. I won't be cheated, and I won't take crap off nobody, including you."

  Papa whistled low. "Dang, if you're tougher than you act, you must be a real joy at school and Tolley House." Papa held his laughter until he could judge my reaction.

  At first, I was angry with him for making fun of me, but it passed when I saw the humor in his harmless remark. When I thought of how silly I must have sounded, I couldn't help but laugh, and soon, we were both out of control. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed that hard, and I knew Papa was laughing with me the way a friend would.

  With a new ten-dollar bill in my pocket, I "threw the ball around some" with Papa for over two hours. When we took a break, I reminded him that we had played an additional hour, and he agreed to a new deal to pay for the extra time. I accepted Papa's offer for me to keep the ten dollars in addition to eating all that I wanted at his expense. A meal, even fast food, was very important to a kid like me who had learned never to take food for granted. I was satisfied that I had come out on top in our agreement.

  In the boys home, they never offered me all that I could eat because of tight budgets, and the fact that I wasn't a staff favorite. At Stockwell, the portions were small, and most of the boys would walk away from every meal still hungry. Since I had Miss Martin and Gabby bringing me additional food, I was not as weak and malnourished as some of the boys were, but I still never played with a meal.

  At Tolley House, the food was good and adequate for our nutrition, but there were times when I was especially hungry and wanted more. I burned many more calories with my workouts than the other boys did, and I think that was the reason I was often hungrier than they were. In time, when I grew friendlier with a couple of my foster brothers, they would offer me their plates to finish, if they weren't very hungry. Jenny always discouraged us from eating off another boy's plate, but as long as a boy wasn't obviously sick with something, I didn't worry about his germs. I never offered to share my food because I never had any left.

  In McDonald's I ate like a starving college football player while Papa watched the amazing magic show featuring the disappearance of three quarter pounders, two large fries, an apple pie, and several cups of water, which was my normal drink. My meal was more than ten dollars, and I was satisfied with a bloated stomach and money in my pocket.

  I wondered if Papa would be willing to buy my lunch again at a better restaurant that served healthier food, but my mind didn't stop there. I imagined making other deals for clothes, shoes, and electronics. If he wanted, I could play ball with him more often, and he could pay for my company with clothes, shoes, and electronics.

  After lunch, Papa and I returned to the park, sat on the same bleachers, and talked while we digested our food. Papa was doing most of the talking while I eyed a group of girls who were practicing cheer routines about twenty yards away. I remembered the observation that I had made when I first saw them in the halls of Harper Springs Junior High. All of the cheerleaders were very hot girls. A year earlier, I would have paid little attention to them, but my brain and body
had changed and by that day in the park, all I had to do was look at a pretty girl to get so excited that I would ignore everything else around me.

  As I studied the group, I picked out Carlee Summers, the pretty blond who had tripped in the school hall right in front of me. I was lucky enough to catch her and save her from a nasty and embarrassing spill on the hard tile floor. The hall was full of students changing classes, and there was no doubt that the kids would have brutally teased her for months.

  I often replayed the scene in my head, remembering how great it was to hold Carlee so close to me. It was a dream-come-true for me to feel her developing breasts against my chest, smell the fresh scent of her hair, and touch the soft skin of her arms. She thanked me twice before I realized that I should let her go, and when she moved away, I immediately shoved my books in front of my jeans.

  Sometimes when I was in bed for the night, I would pretend that Carlee wanted me as badly as I wanted her. My imagination would run wild in the privacy of my room, but when my vital signs returned to normal, I would curse my stupidity for fantasizing about something that would never happen. The reality was that popular Harper Springs girls like Carlee wouldn't risk catching a disease or a bad reputation by hanging with trash like me.

  Still, it didn't stop me from watching her. I studied every little move she made, and everything she did excited me. When Carlee was nearby, I couldn't focus on anything else.

  When I realized that Papa had stopped talking, I saw that he was amused and waiting for me to come out of my fantasyland. I hadn't heard anything he said, and I knew that he had watched me salivating over Carlee, as a skinny coyote would a plate of raw steaks. With the thin running shorts I was wearing, only a blind man could have missed seeing what Carlee did to me. My face burned as I folded my arms over my lap and turned slightly away from Papa. I'm not sure what I expected the man to say, but I was embarrassed. That summer, I had many of those moments when I struggled to control my new feelings and my ever-changing body, which seemed determined to betray me at the worst moments.

  Papa surprised me by joking about lunch. He suggested that I ate enough to look about nine months pregnant, which drew a nervous chuckle from me. I was glad to talk about anything but my reaction to Carlee, and I was thankful when he began speaking freely about his life. I listened and occasionally asked questions until we were far away from my embarrassment. With what Papa shared and what I heard from other people, by the time summer was over, I felt as if I had known Papa for years.

  Papa was an only child, whose mother was unable to have any other children. Both of his parents passed away within a year of each other, before he was thirty years old. They left him the family home and the horse farm business, which included two huge barns, horse stables, a riding ring, and at the time, more than sixty American Saddlebred horses. His property covered over 1100 acres, including pastures, woods, a small lake, a creek, and deeper woods near the Blue Bergeron River that were thick enough for a hiker to lose his way. In addition, his parents left Papa a large bank account and a healthy investment portfolio. Everyone in the county knew that he was a wealthy man.

  Papa's grandfather built the beautiful Southern farmhouse that Papa inherited from his parents. It was a white, two-story home with a wide, gray porch furnished with six rocking chairs and two swings. The porch not only ran across the front of the house, but it also wrapped around two sides. The interior of the house was suitable for a big family that was typical of farms in an era long gone. Many of the large rooms had tall ceilings, wood floors, and working fireplaces, boasting hand carved mantles. The master bedroom was downstairs and since Papa lived alone, he had six fully furnished bedrooms upstairs that were seldom ever used.

  Even though Papa's house was old, all of the appliances, plumbing, electrical, and insulation were new or had at least been brought up to current building codes. As far as electronics and gadgets, Papa had the best of everything. He had game systems that could keep kids entertained all day without them ever stepping outside of his house. It took some time for me to understand that Papa enjoyed some of his toys as much as the kids who visited him did.

  After his parents passed, Papa appointed a long time employee as farm manager and hired more help for the farm before building Long's Fitness Center, which grew into a chain of fitness centers covering much of the state. Papa offered a variety of membership plans and fees that could fit almost any budget. He gave reduced rates to children whose parents were struggling financially, and he automatically offered foster kids free memberships. Since each of his fitness centers had a basketball court and a swimming pool, both with plenty of fan seating, Papa charged admission for events that he hosted to make up for the money lost by giving away free memberships to kids. Harper Springs, and other towns where the centers were located, benefited from Papa allowing the cities' recreation departments to use his basketball courts and swimming pools for competitions in their youth sports programs.

  Papa bought a car dealership in Harper Springs and with the changes he made, it became the largest in the county and specialized in selling dependable used cars and trucks. Since the majority of citizens in the area were on the struggling end of middle class, most of them couldn't afford a new vehicle, and they couldn't afford to throw away money on a ride that turned out to be a lemon. Papa gave a year's bumper-to-bumper warranty on any used vehicle that he sold regardless of its age or mileage. Papa kept his prices low, but his volume was high because the locals bought from him with confidence that they were making a good deal with a man whose word was golden.

  Papa did volunteer work for numerous charities and was deeply involved in youth programs, especially ones involving sports. He was a member of the school board and president of the Harper Springs High School Booster Club. He loved the football team, and he enjoyed helping the players with any of their on or off the field problems. No boy ever had to worry about fees, transportation, or any other obstacle to his opportunity to play football.

  A good example of Papa taking care of the players was the way he helped them with academics. Each high school athlete had to maintain a minimum of a "C" average in high school in order to participate in sports. If Papa saw that a kid would have academic trouble based on his pre high school grades, then the player would have a tutor at the beginning of the summer before high school and as long as he needed one. The tutor's fee would be low or free, depending upon the player's ability to pay. Coach Haney seldom had to dismiss a player due to poor grades.

  Jenny told me that Papa had planned to marry not long after he graduated from college, but his fiancée became ill and died before their wedding day. It was something that Papa obviously didn't like discussing, and according to Jenny, he never fully recovered from the loss of the young woman he loved so much. She said that Papa would date from time to time, but as far as she knew, he never showed any interest in marriage again. Jenny added that Papa served in the army for three years following the woman's death.

  Papa had no biological children, but he was proud to say that he had plenty of kids he loved. He was a state approved foster parent, but he only took kids on a temporary, emergency basis. As a single man who ran several businesses and volunteered for many community activities, he thought that he couldn't provide the kind of permanent home a child needed.

  That first day that Papa and I played in the park and ate lunch at McDonald's, I believed that he genuinely wanted to be my friend, but I was not ready to trust him enough to invest my feelings in another relationship with an adult that would eventually go bad. Since Papa had the money and the desire to make my life better, I stuck with my idea of playing along for the potential benefit to me. I planned to behave around him like the good kid he wanted me to be and see what I got out of it. I was aware of how wrong and selfish I was, but after the way some adults had treated me, I justified my behavior as a way of protecting me and evening the score.

  ***

  With lunch at Mickey D's and a good conversation behind us, Papa foun
d a spot with enough room and recruited a stray kid he knew to play my receiver. Papa gave me tips on how to play the quarterback position with a focus on passing the football. He taught me how to take the snap from under center or from the shotgun. He patiently showed me the proper footwork, grip, stance, arm motion, and release. As I built on what I had learned from Marcus and the peewee league, it all came easy to me, and I could see the excitement in Papa's eyes. He heaped praise on me, saying that I was a good athlete and a fast learner. He even said that in his whole life of observing many boys as they learned the game that there were only one or two kids who came close to my natural ability.

  Later that afternoon, Papa introduced me to some boys who would be playing football for my junior high school, and we joined them for a game of touch. I quarterbacked for one team, and towards the end of the game, I was hitting the receivers in the hands with the ball no matter what pattern they ran or how far it was. I had a good sense of when the other team was rushing in on me from my blind side, and I usually scrambled out of trouble and threw the ball on the run before they could tag me. Papa was impressed with my arm strength when I passed, but he also liked my speed when I ran the ball. It was hard for a single kid to catch me.

  The boys were as complimentary of my athleticism as Papa was, and they were very friendly. Several of them told me that they knew me from school and had avoided me because of the rumors that I had choked Kevin Schultz. None of them liked the bully, but at the same time, they didn't want to be my next victim. After playing ball with me and realizing that I was not a psychotic killer, they suggested that I play in their pickup football games during the summer and try out for the junior high team in August. I enjoyed the camaraderie and inclusion that I tasted that day in the park, and I began to learn that athletic skill often trumped prejudice in the South.

  I was surprised that the guys offered to save me a lunchroom seat with the team when we returned to school. While I liked the sound of the invitation to sit with the jocks, it sounded too good to be true. I decided to tread carefully in case it was a set up to make me look foolish for thinking I fit in with the popular boys. It had happened to me when I was in elementary school prior to Stockwell, and I understood that kids could be cruel to someone they considered different.