Broken Road (10 page)

Composing himself enough to lower his voice to a calmer level, he said, “Damn it, Dante. You’re killing me here. What am I supposed to do without you? You were the only person who understood me and I could be myself with. You and I…we had no secrets. You knew everything about me. You knew about my dreams, my hopes…my fears. You just knew everything.” Wiping away at a fresh onset of tears, he said, “I feel so lost. I don’t know what to do. Everything I ever cared about is gone. You’re gone, my future is gone…I just don’t know anything anymore.” Another warm breeze washed over him, and he suddenly began to remember something his mother had told him and Alec when they were just small children growing up. She had explained that there were three paths that could be taken in life: the good, the bad, and the “need to make a change” paths.

The good path would lead you to all the right things. If one were to follow this road without perpetual deviation, good choices, good future, and ultimately a good life were all for one’s taking.

The bad road, well, that one just always seemed to lead to a life in prison. She was effective in using terms such as “life sentence without parole,” “death penalty,” and her personal favorite, “never drop the bar of soap.” As youngsters, Jarrod and Alec had no idea what she was referring to, but intuitively knew that body wash was the way to go.

Then there was the last road she talked about: the “need to make a change” path. This was the road most frequently travelled, simply because no one is perfect, and mistakes and bad choices are invariably made in one’s lifetime. Attempting to never make it onto this path was like asking Helen Keller to play a round of Marco Polo. It simply was impossible. The good thing was that if you did find yourself on this trail, all you had to do to be led directly back onto the highly revered good path was to simply correct your ways and move forward.

Jarrod suddenly realized there was a fourth road that she had failed to tell them about: the road that led a person to nowhere. There was no beginning, and it felt as if there was no end in sight to this trajectory. Realizing he was now irrevocably on this path and having no idea how to get off, he felt suffused with panic and dread. Breathing became labored again as he broke out in a cold sweat and his skin became pale as ashes. What was he to do? He had no internal GPS tracking device; there were no exit signs, no directions. Nothing.

He felt as though he were walking through total darkness and couldn’t depend on anyone or anything to help him by shedding a ray of light toward an escape. Life felt aimless, without importance or purpose. He didn’t know if he was coming or going, but the worst part was, he simply didn’t care anymore. All his dreams that had once been within his grasp were now nonexistent through loss and destruction. In his current state of mind, life as he once knew it was completely and irretrievably lost.

He sat there for a few minutes on his own and waited for the tears to dry up. When they finally did, he spoke again.

“I love you, man. I’ll miss you forever, and I’ll never…ever forget you.” He placed his hand over his aching heart and said, “You’ll always be right here.” He wiped away one last stray tear that had escaped and said, “Goodbye for now. I’ll see you someday.”

He motioned for his battalion to assist him, and they all rushed out, although rushing for them was akin to a turtle trying to get out of the way of a speeding car. When they finally reached him and helped him up, he turned around one last time as they were walking away and said so quietly that no one other than Dante could have heard, “One more thing. When you come across the pretty angels…save one for me.” Then he gave a lopsided half smirk. It was the closest thing to a smile he’d revealed in over three weeks.

As time continued on, normalcy was slowly beginning to slink its way back into the lives of the Wentworths. Jarrod and Alec had begun physical therapy and were both beginning to feel stronger and more agile. They no longer depended on their parents for every little thing, which gave them both a considerable sense of independence, thus improving everyone’s disposition by quite a bit.

One Thursday afternoon, upon returning home after having seen Dr. Silverstein for a follow-up appointment, Jarrod asked his mother if she would drop him off at the Malones’ house. Janet seemed nervous at this request and stumbled over her words when she said, “Are you sure about this? Do you think this is a good idea?”

“Yeah. I’ve let some time pass, but I don’t want to wait too long. I’m ready to see them. I just hope they’re ready to see me.”

With uncertainty etched across her face, she nodded and said, “I’ll take you there now. Janice has called a few times to see how you are doing. Maybe they are ready.”

She made a right at the next traffic light, drove down a few blocks, and then made another right onto Dewey Avenue. The Malones lived a few houses down on the left. Upon pulling up in front of the familiar bright-yellow, Colonial-style house with green wooden shutters the color of Granny Smith apples, she noticed the lawn was in dire need of being mowed and that the flower beds were unkempt and dying. Fighting back the desire to burst out in tears, she bit her lower lip and blinked away tears that were forming anyway. She knew that had the table been turned and it had been either Jarrod or Alec who had perished in the accident, she too would have ceased caring about anything and everything and would have let the world fall to pieces.

Opening the car door and stepping out with great effort, Jarrod gave his mother a sideways glance from the corner of his eye. From the look on her face, he knew she was dying to jump out and assist him, but instead painfully contained herself and watched in tormented silence. He thanked her by simply saying in typical Dante fashion, “Much obliged, ma’am.” Mistaking his gratitude for the ride, she responded, “No problem. Call me when you’re ready to be picked up.” She smiled encouragingly at him as he closed the door and began to walk slowly, leaning heavily on his one crutch, up the driveway toward the front door.

Jarrod rang the doorbell and within a minute, Janice opened the front door. As her gaze fixed on him, her eyes instantly began to well up. She opened the screen door to let him in and immediately noticed the arm in a sling and the cast on his leg. He was walking with most of his body weight leaning solely on one crutch. She held the screen door wider and helped him up the last step into the house. Once inside, words were not spoken immediately. Instead she leaned forward and hugged him tightly, holding on with great intensity. Neither one wanted to let go, but eventually Janice gently broke the grasp.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you’re already hurting.” Taking both her hands and placing them squarely on both sides of his face, she looked into his eyes and said, “I’m so glad you came by. I’ve missed you.”

Chapter Nine

L
ooking up in exasperation from his book, Jarrod said, “Dad, I’m begging you. Please can you get me the SparkNotes? I don’t understand any of this Shakespeare crap.”

Jim lowered the newspaper he was reading and tilted his head forward a bit to look at Jarrod over his wire-rimmed glasses resting near the tip of his nose.

“No SparkNotes. Read the play. If you have any questions, you can ask your mother later.”

“Why not you?”

“Because I don’t understand any of that Shakespeare crap.”

In order to graduate, Jarrod needed to comply with state and local school board curriculum requirements. Still unable to attend school on a daily basis, Jarrod and his parents had opted for home tutoring so he would be able to receive his diploma as planned and not have to repeat his senior year. Within five minutes he gave up and closed his book, leaving Macbeth in the midst of a raging fit aimed at an empty chair and a ghost named Banquo. Looking at his father, who appeared captivated by some article in the paper, Jarrod asked, “What exactly did Mr. Wyatt say again about me calling him?”

“You know exactly what he said because I’ve told you about a hundred times.” Taking pity on his son, he folded the paper and placed it on the coffee table. “Mr. Wyatt said that it would be fine for you to give him a call when you’re feeling better.”

“Do you think it would be alright for me to call him soon?”

Enduring the trappings of cabin fever, Jarrod constantly felt confined, restless, and antsy. Even though, for the most part, he was able to get around without assistance from others, not being able to attend school or leave the house with regularity was enough to drive him to the nearest insane asylum. He still wasn’t sleeping well through the night, for he was haunted by agonizing thoughts that would keep him up for hours. He missed his friend and he missed playing baseball.

There was nothing he could do to bring Dante back, and that fact left him feeling hopeless and desperate. He would find himself tossing and turning in bed, alternating between lugubrious thoughts of the friend he had lost forever and despairing concern for his own questionable future. So many feelings and none of them good. His heart felt heavy with anger, despondency, and even loneliness. Yes, loneliness. Even though he knew he had immeasurable support and love from his family and friends, he still couldn’t help but feel he was in this boat alone and would have to use strength of will as oars to pull himself out of this whirlpool of misery. He needed to do something and felt that since he was progressing so well with his physical therapy sessions, he might be ready to begin his baseball training.

“Jarrod, when I spoke with him to let him know you were out of the coma and healing, he was happy and said for you to call him when you were better. What he meant by the word ‘better’ was, when you’re ready for another tryout. You’re not ready for that yet. I’m sorry, son, but you have a long way to go before you can stand in front of him and attempt to pitch. Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet.” Jim regarded his son with a look of combined sympathy and pride. He understood how difficult it must be for Jarrod and was amazed at how well his progress was going; but he knew it would be awhile before he’d be able to pick up a ball again, much less pitch.

“I know I have a long way to go, but I’m going nuts here. There must be some sort of light training that I can do,” Jarrod said, his spirit slightly daunted.

“I understand how you feel; however, you can’t do anything until the doctors say it’s okay to start training. If you push your body before it’s ready, you’ll end up doing more harm than good. Just try to be patient. I know it’s hard, but you can do it. You have to learn to walk before you can run.”

“Yeah, I just wish we could squeeze in some baseball between the walking and the running. What about jogging?”

Jim rolled his eyes, smiled, and said, “No jogging on hard pavement. Just on the treadmill at rehab.”

“Dad, I need to get out of the house.”

“Go for walks. Walking is good exercise and not too strenuous.”

“Walking is for old people.”

“Your mom and I go for walks every night.”

“My point exactly.”

Chapter Ten

“S
o what do you think of Jersey so far?” Morgan asked her cousin, who had arrived from Florida just a few days ago.

Angel lowered the volume on the television set and smiled brightly at Morgan. “I like it. I mean all I’ve seen of it so far is Cliffside, but it’s nice.”

“It sucks. Especially this town,” responded Morgan. Cliffside Park was a small town nestled in the northeast portion of New Jersey. One could make it into New York City by car, bus, or train in as little as fifteen minutes, barring any traffic on the George Washington Bridge or Lincoln and Holland Tunnels. Due to the ever-growing population and popularity of the town, new homes were forever being built in duplex form so as to accommodate more families within limited space. The older, existing homes were so closely situated that if the neighbors had something to say to each other, all they needed to do was open their side windows, and they could literally touch one another.

The entire town had only three school buses, and each one was half full at best. Usually kids were dropped off at one of the three elementary schools in the morning and picked up at the end of the day. As crowded as the town was, the residents still continued to enjoy a small, close-knit environment, with just about everyone being on a first-name basis with one another. Unfortunately, everyone knew one another’s business as well. Two types of people lived here, the first being known as the Townies. They were the group that would forever remain loyal and loving citizens of this small community atmosphere. The individuals that made up this band were born and raised in Cliffside and would bear and raise their own brood here as well. Many of them already had their plots selected and paid for in advance in the town’s only cemetery, Mount Hope. The second group was known as the Bolters. They were the select group who bolted out of town so quickly after being handed their high school diplomas that they would leave the Townies standing in the wake of a breeze caused by their departures for days on end. Morgan was planning on becoming a Bolter as soon she possibly could.