Fourth and Forever

by Bert Carson

  We sat that way for some time before she smiled and said, “Did you just think of that?”

  “Nope. I have to be honest with you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

  The smile disappeared when she asked, “Is it as scary for you to think about as it as it is for me?”

  “I don’t know how scary it is for you, but frankly I wasn’t this scared in Vietnam, or when I ran on the field four months ago and kicked my first real field goal.”

  She smiled again, “I didn’t go to Vietnam, and I haven’t played in a real football game, but I’d rather do either of those things than think about what you’ve just invited me to think about.”

  “Do you mean it hadn’t crossed your mind before now, or that you’d rather not think about it at all?”

  She squeezed my hand, “Neither one, Josh. Isn’t there another choice? Can’t we just make a new deal even though it scares us to death?”

  “Yes, we can do that. I’d like for us to do that. I know there hasn’t been another man in your life since Vincent and you know there has never been another woman in my life except Kathy. It seems to me that it might be time to change that.”

  “Josh, we’re adults and we can handle the fear and whatever follows. However, before we do anything I want to know how you think Bobby will feel about you having a girlfriend.” She giggled, and said, “That sounds funny coming from a forty-two year old woman.”

  I laughed, “The truth is, we are kids, we just happen to be over forty. I’ve got an idea we’ll always be kids, no matter how old we are. As far as Bobby is concerned, he told me over a month ago that if you and I ever decided to reconsider our friendship agreement, it would be fine by him.”

  “That’s a wise boy you have there, Mr. Edwards.”

  “You’re right; he is wise, way beyond his years. When Kathy died, we were both devastated. You know the feeling so I won’t try to describe it. I don’t know what I’d have done without Bobby. Leaving Alabama and starting a new life has turned out to be the best thing that we could have done. Everything in our life was suddenly new, and I mean everything. Not just the absence of Kathy.”

  “I envy you that, Josh. I wanted to leave Kalispell when Bob died and I wanted out even more when Vincent was killed. I desperately wanted to be away from everything that was familiar, but I couldn’t leave my mother and father. Daddy never recovered from Bob’s death. He died two years later. Mother couldn’t take care of herself so there was no way to leave then. I’ve been there ever since.”

  “For me, and for Bobby, it was natural to leave. I’d already filed my retirement papers and Bobby was searching for a college to attend. Had it been otherwise, we would still be there, being reminded every day of what we had lost.”

  I put my arm around her and pulled her toward me. She rested her head on my shoulder. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the house. After a while Meg said, “Let’s just let whatever is going to happen, happen. No plans and no expectations.”

  I placed my hand lightly on her cheek, turned her face toward mine, and kissed her softly. “That’s the deal I’ve been hoping for,” I said a few moments later. We stood, hugged, and then shook on it. At that moment Bobby, Janet and Flexible came in.

  Bobby took one look at us and said, “Aha, a new deal is born.”

  We laughed, and Meg told him that with his blessing, a new deal had been worked out. He put his arms around both of us and said, “I’m glad. I’m really glad, for both of you and for me too.” Flexible barked, breaking the mood of the moment.

  Meg decided to stay over for the Monday meeting. Sunday morning the four of us had brunch at the Red Lion, went back to the house, got Flexible, and walked through the campus. At the stadium, Janet noted the scoreboard was still lit up, showing the final score, UM 27, Northeast Louisiana 24. A hastily erected sign that read, “Undefeated, National Champions hung over the main entrance.

  ********

  Despite the near freezing temperature, we walked for another two hours, to Flexible’s delight. That evening Hunk, Denby and Samuelson happened to drop by just as Janet and Meg put the lasagna and salad on the table. I accused them of having the house bugged as we all gathered around the table.

  With the table cleared, dishes washed, and the kitchen wiped down, Meg and I took Flexible for a walk. As we were leaving, Bobby said, “You guys may be overdoing the walking, even Flexible doesn’t seem too excited about this one.”

  As we walked, I could sense a new chapter beginning. Unlike other parts of my life, I had no idea how this one would write itself. We stopped on the bridge and looked at the river rushing toward a far distant sea, and then we turned to each other, kissed, then held each other a long time, until Flexible began barking and tugging at the leash. The campus was quiet, so I unsnapped his leash and he ran ahead while arm-in-arm we followed at a more leisurely pace.

  ********

  Monday, Meg worked at the house all morning and then met me at the Bear’s Den, a short-order restaurant just off campus. We found an empty table in the corner of the café and ordered. When the waitress disappeared Meg said, “Josh, I have a suggestion. Before, I tell you what it is; I want you to promise me that if you think I’m rushing things, you’ll tell me.”

  I said, “I like this already.”

  She laughed and said, “You don’t know what it is, Silly.”

  “Well, if it’s about rushing, I can imagine can’t I?”

  “Before you let your imagination get you in big trouble, let me tell you the idea. I’m an independent contractor. I can set up an office anywhere. Now that mother is gone, I have no reason to stay in Kalispell. I’d like to take some advanced courses in economics, statistical planning, and manufacturing and I could do that here. You have two extra bedrooms, so I could use one as my office. What do you think?”

  “I only have one question. Where are you going to sleep?”

  She blushed but didn’t look away, “Where do you want me to sleep?”

  “You know where I want you to sleep,” I said and I suddenly realized that I was blushing too.

  We were kissing when the waitress reappeared with our lunch. We weren’t aware of her until she coughed softly, and said, “I hate to disturb you, in fact, you can’t imagine how much I hate it, but these plates are heavy.” We broke our embrace like a couple of school kids caught holding hands on the playground.

  As we ate I asked, “What can I do to help you move and when do you plan to do it?”

  “I have to go through everything in the house. Sell the furniture, store the things I’m not up for throwing out, and then put the house on the market. School is out for the holidays a week from this coming Friday. The new semester starts the first week of January. I think I can be here by then. I’ll go back to Kalispell tomorrow and start going through the house. If you could come up while schools out and help me sell the furniture and pack the boxes I’m going to put in storage, we should be finished in a week and be back here for Christmas.”

  “I love that plan,” I said.

  That afternoon we shared the new plan with Bobby and Janet. I watched Bobby closely, looking for any signs of reservation on his part. There were none.

  ********

  As promised, all the Monday night regulars showed up for “The Vietnam Conversation,” as the gathering had been named. I sat down on the stool, took a sip of water, and was seconds away from starting when Brent said, “Daddy, before you begin, there’s something we’d like to do first.”

  “Sure, Coach, you’re the boss.”

  Brent laughed and said, “Well, I sometimes wonder about that, especially this year.” Everyone laughed. “Seriously, or maybe just a little more seriously, we have a gift for you.” He made a sweeping gesture that took in everyone packed into the house. I’m going to ask Jeff to make the presentation.

  Samuelson, carrying a large, holiday wrapped box, which appeared to be two feet long and maybe two feet high, appeared from the kitchen. He made
his way toward me through the scattered bodies that filled every square inch of space. Only then did I notice there were a few more participants than usual, and I realized the entire team was there.

  Jeff handed me the box, which was surprisingly light. “Don’t open it yet, Daddy. First, I want to tell you why we’re giving it to you, and then you can open it.” I don’t like award ceremonies. I guess I was the object of too many of them in my years in the Army, but there was no way to avoid this one, so I listened.

  “Every year the team selects the player of the season. This year there was no competition for the title. It was yours all the way, that’s why you weren’t invited to vote. There was no vote.” He paused and I could see that he was having some difficulty continuing. I looked around the room at all the players who had become my family, Brent and Jimbo who had become my brothers, and Meg, who had filled a void in my life that I thought could never be filled.

  He continued, “Daddy, you’re more than the player of the year. You are our teacher, our friend, and most of all you are someone that we know we can count on no matter what is going on. You went the extra mile for Hunk, you came and got me when I ran away, you practically moved into the hospital with Green and who knows what else you’ve done.” There were several bobbing heads in the crowd and everyone had huge grins on their faces. Jeff, though he had probably intended to say more, wrapped it up by saying, “Daddy, there aren’t words to tell you what you mean to us. No gift could ever express it and I sure as hell can’t, so I’m going to stop trying. Open it up.”

  I put the box on my stool and ripped off the bright red and green Christmas paper. It was the game ball from the championship game. Every player had signed it. It was mounted on a kicking tee inside a glass presentation case. A small bronze plaque on the bottom of the front side read:

  Presented to Josh “Daddy” Edwards, the Player of the Year, by the 1992 University of Montana Grizzlies.

  Tears were running down my face as everyone stood and began clapping. I finally got myself together enough to raise my hands, signaling for quiet. After a couple of minutes, they sat back down. I drained my glass of water and said, “If you think you’re going to get out of hearing more about Vietnam, you’re mistaken.” The laughter that followed gave me the opportunity to wipe my eyes with the tissues that Meg handed me.

  *********

  “Being part of this team means more to me than you can imagine. When Bobby and I had taken the worst shock we could have possibly received, you welcomed us without reservation. You made room in your heart for a forty-four year old quarterback who needed to know that he could still play in a game. For that, I should be giving you an award, but instead, I’ll take the game ball, our game ball, and I’ll display it here for you, each of you, because it belongs to all of us. Thanks.”

  I couldn’t say anything else and they knew it. There was a second round of applause and Bobby brought me another glass of water and took the case and the ball back into the kitchen. I sat down, looked around the room, grinned as best I could and said, “Tonight I’ve decided to talk about post-traumatic stress disorder. The reason that’s going to be the topic is simple. You are now at risk to experience it. Here’s why.”

  There wasn’t a sound in the room other than the crackle of the fire and Flexible’s easy snoring drifting from under the dining table. “Post-traumatic stress disorder is not limited to war veterans, or victims of an accident or catastrophe. PTSD, as it is commonly known, can happen to anyone or any group of people who have been focused on a single objective and the object ceases to exist. The reason you’re susceptible is simple, The National Championship. It was our life for months. Everything we did, everything we said, even everything we thought was centered on it. It was a worthwhile objective, but now it has been accomplished. It’s history. What do we do now? If you don’t find an answer for that question, and find it quickly, then you may experience PTSD.”

  I took a sip of water and looked around the room, “That’s what happened to everyone who served in Vietnam. Unlike you, they didn’t have someone to point out the risk to them. We were so excited to leave Vietnam that it never crossed our minds to think that we couldn’t leave. Oh, we could leave the country, but the experience we’d had in the country refused to leave us. Vietnam continued to run the vets when they came home. VA hospitals filled, not with those who were physically wounded but with men and women who were psychologically wounded. Now, here’s what you need to understand, PTSD, isn’t about the horror of war, it is about the sudden absence of an event that required all of your focus, all of your concentration, your effort, even your thoughts. War is one cause of PTSD, but it’s not the only one.”

  I looked at Coach Jenkins, “Coach, two days ago your team won the Division 1 National Championship. How do you feel today?”

  Brent said, “I hate to admit it, but, to quote my wife, ‘today I was at loose ends.’ I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

  Before he could continue, Jimbo said, “I’ll say. Oops, sorry Coach.”

  Brent laughed then said, “You’re right Jimbo, I was a grouch. I had no place to focus my energy.”

  “Did anyone else notice anything different today?” I asked.

  It looked like everyone’s hand shot up. I pointed to Young, “What did you notice?”

  “I noticed that no one was talking about the championship, nothing, not a word. Everywhere I went it was like it never happened.”

  “That happened to Vietnam vets too. It’s not a nice feeling is it?”

  There were many heads shaking. “Now, imagine this. What if your best friend had died in the game? What if two or three of your friends had been disabled? Imagine how you’d have felt today if no one had wanted to talk about it?” I gave them a moment to consider that possibility, and then I looked at Denby. “What did you notice, Denby?”

  “Like Young, I noticed that nobody was talking about it, but then, I noticed something else. Not many people wanted to talk to me. They looked away when I was around and most of them acted like I wasn’t even there.”

  I looked at the big center and said, “You’re very observant. That happened to Vietnam vets too. I’ve already mentioned my trip home from San Francisco. I couldn’t make eye contact with a single person. I’ve thought about that and wondered why. I’m not sure that it’s the whole answer, but here’s part of it at least. Denby, you’ve just been part of something that required a total commitment of both your time and your effort. That’s something that most people want, but few are willing to experience. Because you did it, you’ve placed yourself outside the group that is unwilling to do it. To acknowledge you, they would have to admit their failure to make an all-out commitment. They aren’t going to do that.”

  I looked at Porter, our kick return specialist, “Otis, I know you noticed something different today, what was it?”

  He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. It was obvious he was looking for the right words. “Daddy, it wasn’t something that I saw it was something that I felt and it was scary. I realized that for the past six months I’ve been totally dedicated to doing my part to win the National Championship. It was all I thought about. I even dreamed about it almost every night. When I woke up this morning, I realized that I had not dreamed at all, nothing, no dreams. That scared me. I thought about it and wondered if I have what it takes to find another dream. Something I can be that committed to.”

  “Before we go on, let me ease your fear. You can have another dream. The dream was your choice. You achieved it and now you can chose another one. You’re way ahead of the game because you are seeing what’s happening and now you’ll be able to understand it.”

  I swept the room with my eyes and said, “Do you want to continue the Vietnam Conversation next week?”

  The response was unanimous. One of the newcomers asked, “Is it all right if I come back, Daddy.”

  “The house will obviously hold the entire team so you’re all welcome to come back, the only rule w
e have is limiting it to team members.” I looked at Meg, and quickly added, “And Meg of course.”

  “Before you leave, I want to give you an assignment for the week. Notice what you’re feeling about the championship. Notice how others seem to perceive you and how they treat you. We’ll talk about those things next week before we begin Christmas break.”

  When everyone had left, Meg said, “I want to be here for next week’s meeting but I’m not sure how to work that out.”

  “I have an idea. Drive back to Kalispell tomorrow, just as you planned and I’ll fly up Sunday morning and bring you back for the meeting. Tuesday morning I’ll fly you back to Kalispell and as soon as classes are out Friday I’ll drive up and help you finish.”

  Meg said that was perfect. The only difficulty was saying good-bye the next morning.

  Sunday morning I flew Bluebird to Kalispell. Meg met me at the airport. On the way to her house, she gave me a short driving tour of the city. As she drove, she told me about the wonderful lunch she had planned for us. Thirty minutes after I landed, we arrived at the house. She began what I’m sure would have been a full tour of her home; however, we were side tracked at her bedroom.

  Lunch was served very late that day but neither of us minded.

  We landed in Missoula just before full dark. Waylon said, “You two must have taken the long way home.”

  Meg smiled and said, “We did.”

  *********

  Monday evening everyone was back for the Vietnam Conversation. I noticed there was no empty space in the house, but as long as everyone was happy, I had no need to point it out. When I took the stool to the fireplace and sat down, a hush fell over the house.

  I scanned the faces and said, “You’re three days away from Christmas break. You’ve just won the national championship. Why do I feel like you’re not as happy as you should be?”

  Denby raised his hand and I pointed toward him. “Daddy, I don’t know about anybody else, but I’ve realized that the thrill that came from winning began to fade within hours of the end of the game. I probably wouldn’t have known what was going on if we hadn’t had the conversation last Monday, but we did, and now I want to know what to do.”