My Name Is River Blue (35 page)

"It's
awesome. The three of us are going to have a blast. Well, I'm going to say
goodnight." Max looked at his wristwatch. "Julie has relatives
visiting and couldn't come, but I'm going to leave a little early and spend
some time with her before I have to head home. Have fun, dude."

"Yeah, you
too, Max."

We clasped our right
hands and gave our one-arm hug. When my head was close to Max's, I could tell
that he wore makeup near his eye, and I felt bad for him that he had to cover
up another bruise. In the locker room, when anyone would mention his bruises,
he always said they were from practice, even when they were strange bruises in odd
places for a player wearing pads. Still, he could have been telling the truth,
and everyone let it slide.

Max often spent
weekends with Ant and me, and it was common for us to camp out at Deer Lake
where we would swim when the weather was warm enough. It wasn't like the locker
room after football practice or games where I would see my teammates with
bruises and think nothing of it. During the offseason, Max would still show
bruises at the lake, and it was obvious to Ant and me that Max's father abused
him. The one time I begged him to let me tell someone who could help him, he
reacted badly and told me that if I said anything, that our friendship was
over.

After Max left
for his girlfriend's house, I rejoined the group of seniors, but Papa
interrupted and herded me off to the barn office for a private chat, something
we had done many times in the years since I first met him.

I was a little
sad when I thought about leaving for college and how little I would see Papa. I
felt guilty as if I were deserting him after all he had done for me. He was my
boss, my mentor, my teacher, and my friend, and no real father could have done
any more for me than Papa did. I owed him a debt I could never repay.

In the barn
office, we sat facing each other. Papa grinned widely. After all the attention
people had given me during my high school days, I was still a quiet guy and perfectly
comfortable to sit silently while I listened to friends ramble. Papa knew that
I might wait a long time without speaking unless he took the initiative, and as
usual, he did.

"All the
games, championships, dinners, and awards. Now the barn party. It's all over
for this team," said Papa. "This is the last time you guys will all be
together for a team event. It makes me sad that this same exact mix of talent
will never play another game together. Of all our past teams, I'm proudest of
this one, and I will never see another one that can compare."

"Thanks,
Papa," I said. "Without you and the boosters, we never would have
achieved so much. I know for sure that I wouldn't have."

"River, has
it all sunk into you? What you've accomplished? You led the team to three state
titles in a row. You hold every important record for a quarterback in state high
school history. You're Mr. Football. All the recruiting experts have named you
the best high school football player in the nation. The whole nation, River! Every
college football fan in the country is waiting to hear your decision on which
university will be lucky enough to sign you. I was looking at you earlier
tonight and wondered if you really understand how your life is about to change.
You're going to be a national household name long before you finish college."

"I don't
know what to say."

Papa must have
seen that my mind was drifting because his voice grew louder.

"River, all
during high school, you haven't been just a great football player, but an
honest, hard-working young man with exemplary character. You give other kids
hope, and I could not be any prouder if you were my son."

At times, I felt
that I was living someone else's life. A life too good for me. If I were too
cocky and then failed, I would provide plenty of ammunition for people to taunt
me and call me what I really was. I knew that there was a day coming, if my celebrity
status grew enough, that the media would not be satisfied to report only my
football exploits, as they did through my high school years. They would treat
me as an adult and dig up juicy dirt, as they did any famous person. I thought
that if I did my best to act humble, I might be less of a target.

"River?"

"Sorry,
Papa. Thank you. It means a lot to me that you feel that way."

"I
understand. Everything is coming at you fast, and you have decisions to
make."

"Yes, sir."

"River, I
want to ask a favor. Well, I guess a couple of favors."

"Yes, sir. Whatever
you want."

"Well,
first, I hope this doesn't sound bad to you. I debated asking you to do this,
but I decided to see if you would be okay with it. Since your signing will be
on TV, how would you feel about giving Long's Fitness Center a little plug? I
need to advertise the change to my program for kids whose families can't afford
our fees. Instead of just giving a reduced rate, I want to put out the message
that any kids from disadvantaged families can join both our afterschool and
athletic programs free of charge just as foster kids can. I want parents and
their kids to know that there is an alternative to running the streets."

"Sure, Papa."
I wondered why Papa was hesitant to ask the favor after all he had done for me.

"I was
worried how you would take it because it's your day, and your time in the
spotlight, but I think we can reach a lot people and help a lot of kids that
way."

"Papa, you
have let me use your equipment for free since I was thirteen years old. You had
your trainers work with me at no charge to make me a better athlete. You did
the same for Ant and others, so Long's Fitness is partially responsible for the
schools offering us scholarships. You know I'm terrible at speeches, so word
something for me that will say thanks for the support of Long's Fitness Center,
and then I can tell about your kids program. I can even wear the nice shirt you
gave me that has Long's Fitness on the front."

"Thank you,
River." Papa chuckled. "That was a lot of words for you."

"I have my
moments." I blushed and laughed with him.

Papa hesitated
before saying something that he had mentioned numerous times over the past
years. "River, I'm going to take another shot at a suggestion for you
before signing day."

I shook my head.
I knew what Papa was going to say. "No sir, I won't cut my hair except for
a little trimming." My black hair hung almost low enough to touch my
shoulders, and I liked it that way. It was always clean and brushed, and most
girls liked it a lot. However, there were some people, including Coach Haney,
who despised seeing my hair hanging out the back of my helmet.

"Okay, but
don't be surprised if your college coach has a rule on hair as part of the
dress code."

"I already
know the ones who do, and I marked them off the list."

"Okay, River.
Let's drop the hair suggestion. While you're in a giving mood, I got one more
favor to ask, but it's not really for me. It's for Tyler Thomas."

"I don't
think I know him."

"You
probably don't," said Papa Ray. "He plays junior high football. His
parents are deceased, and he lives alone with his grandfather, who has been a
good friend and a mentor to me since I was a boy. The man is in poor health
right now, and I try to help him and Tyler when they need me. I see football potential
in the kid, and I wondered if you would be willing to spend some time with him
this coming summer before you have to leave for college. I think he could be a
good high school player for us."

"I don't
know, Papa." I had a goal of earning all the money I could before college.
Before I left in the fall, I wanted all the work I could get at Long's Fitness
and at the farm. "I was hoping to work every hour I could get from you
this summer."

Papa considered my
concern. "And you will, but what if I paid you your hourly rate for the
hours you spent with Tyler?"

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.