I wondered if the kid might be a pain in the butt. "Papa, I'll do it for you, but if it's too aggravating, will you still give me my hours at my regular work?"
"Yes, River. I promise. Just give the boy a chance, and if you can't stand it, then you can work all the hours you want between the club and the farm. Deal?"
"Yes, sir. Deal."
When Papa and I finished, Ant and I spent more time with our teammates. Everyone had a favorite story to rehash about the past season and predictions to make about next year's team. Those conversations were bittersweet for the seniors, who held so many good memories of Hawks football that it was hard to think of leaving the team. Those who would go on to play college ball wondered anxiously if they would be as successful in college as they were for the Hawks.
When all the talk about college football began to wear on my nerves, I sat down with Carlee while I waited for Ant to say he was ready to leave. Carlee and I drank tea, and I asked about her college plans. I knew her father demanded that she attend Vandy, but Carlee didn't sound happy about it. She confessed that they had argued the prior night, and she decided to upset him as much as he did her.
"So how did you piss him off?" I chuckled at the thought.
"I told him I wasn't going to Vandy."
"I guess that upset him."
Carlee smiled devilishly. "That was only part of it. I told him I was going wherever you were going."
"I'm surprised he didn't have a stroke, but why would he bite on that since we haven't been dating?"
"Because he's been so paranoid the last few months. Since I haven't dated much, he thinks that I'm hiding something. I told him that you were the only boy I really liked. So it was easy for him to believe we made up and were secretly making plans to go to college together."
"You told him you were joking, right?" I thought Carlee's joke was funny, but that it wouldn't be funny at all, if her angry father confronted me.
"Not yet." She laughed. "He was so mad that he left the house and came back after I was asleep. He left early this morning and wasn't home when I left for the party. I'll tell him soon."
"The sooner the better, Carlee. I don't want him going nuts and coming after me."
"I'll tell him that instead of college, I'm going to begin my porn career in California."
"Maybe you should talk to Papa tonight before you leave. You might need him to rent you one of his extra bedrooms because your father is going to kick your butt out of his house."
Carlee and I had a fun talk. I liked the easygoing, playful Carlee, who made the time fly and left me wanting more of her. Not only could she be very funny, she really was a good girl at heart and at her best, she could be very thoughtful and considerate of others less fortunate than she was. She was so much prettier the way she acted at the barn party, and I hoped that we stayed in touch after we graduated from high school.
As the end of the party drew near, Carlee told me how much she regretted our fights. I agreed, but I thought that things had probably worked out for the best. I had seen examples of how having a needy girlfriend affected some of my teammates. A possessive, high-maintenance girl could cause a distraction that affected a guy's grades, his athletic play, and possibly his entire future. Carlee might have hurt my chances for a scholarship, if we had not broken up as soon as we did. For the rest of high school, I stayed away from anything serious.
During my junior and senior years, I went on a few old-fashioned dates, usually dinner and a movie, and sometimes the girl and I would make out afterwards. I had some vanilla fun, but I never went all the way. I was still a virgin the night of the barn party, about a week after my eighteenth birthday. I wanted to wait until I was older and ready for a serious commitment with the right girl. I wasn't willing to risk an unwanted pregnancy that could not only ruin my plans, but could also adversely affect the life of an innocent child.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The barn party began to break up around 11:30 P.M. when Ant and Tina came out of hiding. I thought that they had probably slipped off to the loft, but I didn't ask. Ant and I said our goodbyes to everyone, and told them that we would see them at Max's party. I surprised Carlee by hugging her and giving her a friendly kiss on her cheek. I told her the truth, which was that I had really enjoyed hanging out with her.
When Ant and I walked out of the warmth of the barn, we met a breeze of cold air that forced our heads deeper into our jackets. A light mix of drizzle and very fine snow swirled around us but wasn't heavy enough to wet us before we made it to Ant's car. It was rare for us to have a measurable snowfall, but we occasionally had a light mix of precipitation that caused icy patches on some roads.
"Damn, that wind is cold," complained Ant, when we were both inside his car. "This is the kind of weather I hate to play ball in. You remember that last regular season game up in Newton when it was so cold?"
"Yeah, you and Max griped and blamed the cold for dropping my passes."
"That ball stings when it's cold, RB. I'd like to see you catching a football in that weather."
"Ant, you were wearing gloves, dude."
"It still stung. You were throwing too hard."
"Poor baby. If you had been fast enough to separate from your man, I wouldn't have thrown it so hard."
Ant started his car and turned the heater to high. "I can't run fast when I'm frozen stiff."
"You're going to have a tough time in the pros with so many cold weather cities."
"Yo, I'll get used to it. I'll hate it, but I'll get used to it," laughed Ant. "Ain't nothing but a thing, and no one thing is ever gonna stop us, RB."
Ant drove off Papa's property, turning onto Highway 8 towards home. With the moon blocked by clouds, the country night was as dark as I had ever seen it.
"Ant, you should wear your seat belt. There could be ice, you know."
"It'll be okay. There's no traffic this late."
"I don't know why I waste my breath." I watched him turn on his wipers to clear the mist from the windshield. "At least you think it's important to see where you're driving."
Ant ignored me and changed subjects. "RB, are you any closer to picking a school for us? Time's getting short."
"Do you still like the same three?" I asked.
"Yup, I'm good with any of them. I'd just like to know where we're going."
"I hope you don't mind, but Max told me he wanted to go where we went and begged me to tell him. I said we were going to SC. If we stay in state, we can get extra money above our scholarship. The foster care money would pay extra expenses plus medical insurance until we're twenty-one. I checked it all out, and it's our best deal. What do you think?"
"It all sounds good to me. It'll be cool to have Max with us, and it's only two hours away. We can probably work with Papa for part of the summer, and I'm sure he would let us stay with him."
"Let's not tell anyone until signing day," I cautioned him. "Papa wants us all to announce our commitments on the same day, and I'm going to plug the disadvantaged kids' program on TV with a big Long's Fitness Center sign in the background."
"That's a good thing Papa's doing for those kids. He did a lot for us too."
I watched the windshield wipers repeatedly clear the stubborn mist as I spoke to Ant. "I hate to think where I would be today if Papa hadn't helped me. Now it's up to us."
Ant glanced at me. "We can do it."
"Playing college ball will be tougher than high school, but if we stick together and work hard, one day we'll have pro contracts to show for it," I said confidently. "Another thing I was thinking. We have to make sure we get the same classes. Studying with you helps me."
"They have a tutoring program for athletes. Hell, in your case, they'll probably have someone take your exams for you." Ant was joking, but I wondered if he might be right.
"Ant, there's no way I would have grades good enough for college if you hadn't insisted on us studying when I wasn't in the mood. Thanks."
Our first few months as roommates,
when Ant would go over the top with his "gangsta in da hood" talk, I wondered if he was playing or if he would struggle with academics. I discovered that he needed little help from anyone and that his GPA was near the top of our class.
"Yo, dude! Wake up! Don't be drifting on me, RB." Ant was chuckling at my one of my typical dazes.
"Sorry. What were you saying?"
"I said, you're welcome, RB. We'll keep studying together so we keep our plans rolling. After college, we'll get rich in the pros. Then we'll build two freaking mansions with a regulation football field between us. Our wives and kids will be like one big family, and we'll play ball with our sons and daughters on our own field. Dang, we'll even play with our grandchildren on that field. We'll have everything we ever wanted."
I loved hearing Ant confidently foretell our futures. He painted such a picture, that for a moment, he took me away from his little Chevy to a warm, sunny day, filled with the laughter of our children, as we played with them on our lush green field. A field that linked our magnificent homes that were built from faith and hard work that began in the old part of Harper Park when we were thirteen-year-old parolees from Stockwell.
Ant turned his head slightly in my direction and saw me smiling at the vision he gave me. He was proud any time that he brought even a slight smile to my face, but he always wanted more. He showed me his bright, toothy grin, crossed his eyes, and winked. He knew that it was almost impossible for my smile not to stretch widely, revealing tooth after tooth, until I thought that the corners of my mouth would crack. He had promised me more than once that he would keep working on me until a big smile felt at home on my face.
Ant had worked on more than my smile. For a while after Stockwell, no matter how well my life was going, I kept my optimism on a leash. I was afraid to be happy, and although I wished for the best, I expected the worst so that I might hurt less when life dealt me another nasty card. For a long time, I was comfortably safe on my terms, but not nearly as happy as my best friend always was.
Ant told me to leave the past in the past and forget the old ghosts I allowed to haunt me. He would point out how lucky we had been since Stockwell and that we were in a different world with people who cared about us. He believed Papa when our mentor said that only we controlled our destinies and that good effort produced good results. To Ant, there was no mysterious demon of ill fate hiding around the next corner ready to crush us if we were brave enough to believe our dreams were possible. He never stopped nudging me ever closer to accepting his belief that our great futures were a sure thing and that we should enjoy every day of the journey. He usually found a reason to go to sleep happy and wake up happy, and he wanted the same for me. That night, as we rode home to Tolley House, I realized that Ant was winning.
Ant and I were a team. We were brothers by choice, and I couldn't picture college without him. I couldn't even picture my life without him. I thought how strange it would have been for us to play for different colleges and never hear our names linked together again by a play-by-play announcer.
During our senior year in high school, Howie Spearman devoted one of his columns to Gordon Sligh, Ant, and me. He called it The Three Most Exciting Words in Hawks Football. Gordon Sligh, the radio voice of the Hawks, made his play-by-play calls exciting with dramatic pauses, and his knack of saying just enough, instead of too much. Ant and I set a new state record for career touchdown passes between one quarterback and one receiver, and at the halfway point of our junior season, Mr. Sligh dramatically shortened the way he called our scores.
Fans following the game on the radio learned to listen for three words that became a permanent part of Hawks lore. As a play that resulted in a passing touchdown unfolded, Mr. Sligh would call it something like, "In the shotgun, Blue takes the snap, rolls right, sees Jefferson down the far sideline, avoids the rush, steps up, fires deep to the end zone..." Then after pausing for a full beat, he would say, "Blue. Jefferson. Touchdown."
Ant loudly called my name, snapping my attention back to the present. "Dang, RB, you just keep on smiling, brother. Are you undressing Carlee in your head?"
"Nope, I was thinking about how Mr. Sligh called our touchdowns."
"When we get to college, we got to tell the new announcer how Mr. Sligh did it, so he can keep it up. We're going to wear that man slap out. He'll need jaw replacement surgery after a couple years of our TDs."
I laughed, but before I could agree with him, bright lights, coming from behind us, flooded Ant's car just as we began to climb what I knew had to be Henry's Hill. Ant squinted and cursed at the high beams reflected into his eyes from his rearview mirror. "What a dumbass!"
I turned around to see nothing but the blinding lights growing closer. A second later, the beams shifted left, and it appeared that the vehicle would pass us on Ant's side. We both cursed the reckless driver for using his high beams and attempting to pass us when we were heading into Angels' Curve, which was dangerous enough without the possibility of slick, icy patches. Ant slowed his car to make it easier for the other driver to pass us.
When the driver pulled ahead of us in the left lane, Ant's headlights hit the other vehicle long enough for me to see that it was a white tractor truck with no trailer behind it. On the passenger side door, I briefly saw what appeared to be a flash of green letters, but I couldn't make out the words before the truck pulled away from the light.
Everything happened quickly. Instead of completing the pass, the tractor slowed, allowing us to pull even. Suddenly, its lights swung back to the right. I heard the grating noise when the tractor scraped the length of our car on the driver's side, followed by another burst of profanity from Ant.
I yelled for Ant to slow down again and let the truck driver have the road. Before the last word left my mouth, the trucker's lights slid left and then right again. I heard the loud thud of the tractor striking Ant's front fender, the heavy blow nosing us sharply out of our lane and forcing us to the right. As Ant's car veered off the road, I told him to cut his wheels towards the slide, but Ant couldn't overcome his instinct to turn back towards the road. Instead of stopping on the grassy side of the highway, the car skidded as if it were skating on ice, which I later learned was true. The slide ended with Ant's car launching from the shoulder through the guardrail of Angels' Curve to begin a violent, crushing roll, side over mangled side, down the steep embankment of hard clay, rocks, and brush.
During the small car's furious fall from Henry's Hill, we were human rag dolls helplessly tossed, beaten, and broken. The doors caved inwards, and the car came to a violent stop when the top slammed into a massive oak tree, leaving the car resting on the passenger side. Ant's body was pressed tightly on top of me, his head resting against my chest. It was too dark to see much more than shadowy shapes, but I knew that we were both enclosed by crumpled parts of the car as if it had folded in around us to make an automotive casket. I was squeezed so tightly on every side that I had difficulty breathing. Even if we had not been trapped together, I doubt we could have moved much after our brutal descent of 240 feet, a fall that broke bones, tore flesh, and forced cries of sickening, white-hot pain.
"Ant, can you hear me? Ant? Ant?" Only inches from his ear, I called him repeatedly, but he didn't answer.
The smell of urine was strong, but with the curious mix of pain and numbness below my waist, I couldn't tell if it came from Ant or me. With my jacket unzipped and the front of my shirt exposed, I could feel the warm blood from Ant's head soaking through my shirt to my skin. His chest was rising and falling against me, so I knew that he was alive, but when I listened carefully to his breathing, it was labored, and strangely different from anything I had ever heard. I was very afraid for Ant.
I knew that even in daylight, no car taking Highway 8 up Henry's Hill would be able to see Ant's wrecked car because it was so far down that a driver would have to park his car, walk to the break in the guardrail, and look down to see it. I also couldn't count on the truck driver for help. I could think of no one who
hated Ant or me badly enough to want to kill us, but it was hard to believe that the truck driver accidently ran us off the road. I thought that if it was an accident, that the driver must have been drunk and lost control on icy patches in the median. Accident or not, there was only the smallest of chances that he would send us help.
I attempted to move my right arm to find my cell phone in my right side jacket pocket, but my arm was thoroughly pinned between my body and the passenger door. I thought that I might be able move my left arm enough to retrieve Ant's phone from his jacket, but as I tried, I discovered that my arm was broken. The sudden jolt of pain brought a scream from me, and I had to gather my nerve to try it again. It was my only option and decided that I could stand the pain for as long as it took. It was amazingly easy to find Ant's cell and thumb 911, but very difficult to bring my screaming and cursing under control enough to talk.
I gave the dispatcher our location and she, along with everyone else in the county, knew exactly where Angels' Curve was on Henry's Hill. It was the same curve where Marcia Medlock's husband had his fatal accident. If you were going to use your vehicle to commit suicide or to kill someone else by running him off the road, it was the perfect place. The dispatcher wanted me to stay on the phone with her, but I dropped it. I simply rested my hand on Ant's head and tried to keep my arm still.
I tried to encourage Ant in case he could hear me. I told him that help was on the way, and that he had to hang on for me. I reminded him of our big plans together. We had to finish college, play pro football, marry good women, have bunches of kids, and build palatial homes joined by our own football field. For two state kids, we had big dreams and a fantastic journey ahead of us, but we could only take that trip together.
For a moment, I thought Ant said something to me, but when I asked him to repeat it, there was no response except his harsh breathing. The desperate sounds shifted more to his throat, and then grew weaker.
My Name Is River Blue Page 31
