My Name Is River Blue (32 page)

Ant and I had no
plans to go to Deer Lake Farm that Sunday, but I wanted some advice from Papa
about Carlee and me. I could tell him the whole story, including her remarks
about Ant and Tolley House, and I knew he would keep it confidential. When I
discussed a problem with him, he often gave me a different perspective that was
so clear and simple when he said it.

At breakfast, I
asked Hal and Jenny for permission to go to Deer Lake Farm, if I could find
someone to give me a ride. I planned to check with two of the part-time
employees, who usually worked a few hours on Sunday afternoons. Both guys were
students at the community college and had to drive very close to Tolley House
on their way to the farm. They often gave Ant and me a ride on days when our
schedules matched theirs, and we helped pay their gas expense.

Hal answered
with an offer. "I'm going to check on my mom today, and I have to drive
right by Papa's place. If you want to ride with me, I could drop you off at the
farm and pick you up on my way back home."

"Thanks,
Hal. That would be great."

Hal's mother
lived alone in the small town of Johnsonville, which was about five miles past
Deer Lake Farm. He was an only child, whose father died when he was a young
boy, so it was easy to understand why he was very close to his mom. He made the
thirty mile round trip every other day to spend a couple of hours with her and
to do any chores that she had trouble doing on her own. When his schedule
allowed, he would often spend an entire day with her.

Ant claimed that
I woke him up several times the previous night, so he wanted to stay home and
nap. I think part of his reason for not going was to give me privacy with Papa.
Knowing how perceptive Ant was and how well he knew me, he probably suspected
that I left out parts of my fight with Carlee. It was after that weekend when
he told me that I sucked at trying to keep a secret, and I might as well have
hung a flashing neon sign around my neck if something was bothering me.

It was late
Sunday morning when Hal left me in Papa's driveway with the understanding that
he would pick me up in two and half hours. I didn't see any signs of anyone around
the house or the barn areas, which was normal for a Sunday morning at the farm.
I also didn't see Papa's truck parked under the car shed where he kept it when
he was home. Walking up to the front porch of his house, I began to think that
I should have called before I left Tolley House.

Since I wasn't
sure, I played it as if he
was
home and might be sleeping. The master
bedroom was downstairs and Papa rarely went upstairs, so I knocked on the front
door, knowing that he could hear me if he were awake. When he didn't answer my
knock, I decided not to ring his loud doorbell and chance waking him. I thought
of seeing if Manny was up, but I didn't want to bother him, especially if he
had female company in his apartment. Just walking up his stairs made enough
noise to disturb him.

On a warmer day,
I would have killed some time by checking on the horses, but I was cold enough
that I was beginning to shiver. When I left Tolley House, I thought a light
jacket would be enough, but that was before the wind increased until it was
whipping and biting me with gusts of cold air. Papa had shown me where he hid a
house key underneath the porch steps, and I decided to use the key and wait
inside his house. I was sure he wouldn't mind because if he didn't trust me in
his house, he wouldn't have shown me where the key was.

As soon as I
entered Papa's house and closed the door behind me, I was relieved to be out of
the cold air. From where I stood, I could see parts of the kitchen, the family
room, and Papa's office, but I couldn't see or hear anything that made me think
Papa was home. I called his name twice and there was no answer. I didn't think
it was right to prowl around his house, so I thought I would just sit in the
family room and watch TV until Papa came home or Hal came back to get me.

When I walked
into the family room, a noise startled me. From the entrance foyer, I couldn't see
anyone, but when I moved to the middle of the room, I saw Papa crashed on the
sofa. He was asleep. The sound I heard was his light but steady snoring. When I
took in more of the scene, I realized that "asleep" was the wrong
word. Unshaven with puffy eyes and flushed skin, Papa was a train wreck that I
could smell from six feet away. He reeked like one of the Stockwell guards who
used to start his morning shifts while he was still sweating out his booze from
the previous night. As if I needed more evidence to confirm his condition,
there was an empty glass and a tall, almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the
floor beside the sofa.

I was angry to
see Papa passed out like a homeless drunk. I felt betrayed because the drunk on
the sofa was something far less than my idol, the man I admired more than
anyone I knew. A man with no flaws worth mentioning. A man I wanted to emulate.
A man whose words I accepted as the truth by which to guide my life. All that
he had taught me rushed through my mind and pumped my anger.

Integrity
is doing the
right thing even when no one is looking. Be the best person you can be. Don't
ever do drugs and remember that alcohol is a drug. Drinking alcohol to excess
can ruin your life. You will have enough people trying to hurt you, so don't
hurt yourself. If you would be ashamed for people to know what you did, then
don't do it.

I thought about
the times that Manny had called Ant and me to tell us that Papa was sick with a
bad headache and couldn't be with us that day. How many times did Manny have to
lie for Papa when he was hung over? What else did Papa lie about? Was our whole
friendship a lie?

I wanted to
scream at Papa until he woke up, but my feet started moving, and before I knew it,
I had run out the front door, down the steps, and into the yard. I didn't see
Manny until I literally ran into him. He dropped a small bag on the ground and
wrapped me in a hug that steadied both of us and kept us on our feet. With my
head on his shoulder, I saw Papa's truck parked in the driveway.

"Calm down,
River. What's wrong?"

"Let me go,
Manny!"

I tried to jerk away
from Manny, but he was too strong for me. He pulled back so that he could see
my face, but he still held my arms.

"I saw you
running out of the house. Was Papa awake?"

"You mean
did I see him passed out piss drunk? Yeah, I did. So I know what a hypocrite he
is, and I know you lie for him. Now let me go. I'm going to walk down to the
highway and wait for Hal to pick me up."

"How long
will that be from now?"

"Probably
two hours. Maybe sooner."

"It's too
cold for you to wait outside that long. Let's go up to my apartment, and you
can wait there. I can make you some hot chocolate, and we can talk."

"I don't
want to wait with you. I don't think I even want to come out here again."

Manny's eyes
flashed angrily as his hands tightened around my arms. "Just like that you
see something you don't like, and all of the sudden, every good thing that Papa
has done means nothing to you? Are you ready to throw away a friendship that
easily?"

"He's not
who I thought he was. He's a phony." I bit my tongue a word too late.

There was no
missing Manny's sharp tone. "If you mean that Papa isn't perfect, you're
right, but I'm pretty sure that he never told you he was. I'm also sure that
you could spend the rest of your life looking and never find a better man."

My accusation
about Papa didn't sound nearly as true when I said it aloud, so I stared at the
ground and said nothing. I was still angry, but Manny's reaction made me
believe I should think things over before I said or did something that I could
never take back. He continued to speak to me but in a softer voice.

"River,
your childhood makes it hard for you to believe in people, and when you try,
you don't put your whole heart into it. Part of you is always holding back, watching
for any little sign of dishonesty or any fault that gives you an excuse to
break off a friendship before you invest too much. If you're looking for
perfect people to love, you're going to be a very lonely old man."

I still couldn't
look up at Manny, and I couldn't think of anything to say. It occurred to me
that the wind was so cold that I might freeze in place. A statue with my nose
running, my shoulders slumped, my head hung, and my eyes trained on Manny's
boots.

Manny picked up
the clear plastic shopping bag that contained a large box of aspirin.

"Go wait in
my apartment, River. I'll be up there in a few minutes."

I nodded. I felt
that I was in a trance when I walked to the barn and up the stairs to Manny's
apartment. I was confused, and I wondered if life got any easier for adults. I
spent too much time unsure of how I should feel and what I should do. Why did I
always need someone else to validate my feelings?

The reason I
went to Papa's house was to see if he thought that I had reacted too harshly to
Carlee. Now I was waiting for Manny to finish telling me that I overreacted to
Papa. Exactly how screwed up was I? Hal and Jenny kept telling me that I needed
to work on my social skills, and I mostly ignored them. Maybe I had a bigger
problem than I thought. It didn't sound right for me to become so angry and
judgmental with a friend over one mistake.

Manny and I
talked until Hal came to take me home. Papa really
did
have migraine
headaches on those occasions when Manny called Ant and me to say Papa couldn't
work with us. What I saw in his family room was an annual occurrence at some
point during the holidays, but Papa never drank at any other time. When it
happened, Manny would make a few quiet trips into the house to check on Papa,
and see that he had anything he needed. He made sure that no farmhands or
customers disturbed him. Of course, Manny wasn't expecting my visit.

I asked Manny if
he knew what made Papa drink so much every year, and he said that they had never
discussed it. I wondered if it had anything to do with his parents or Lisa, his
girlfriend, who died before they could marry. Did his losses hit him harder
during the holidays? I asked Manny, and he said that he could speculate, but he
wouldn't. He told me that Papa had a right to his privacy, and if he was
grieving for loved ones, he had a right to grieve without anyone intruding,
criticizing, or trying to make sense out of something so personal to him. The
only thing that mattered was what felt right to Papa.

The more I
thought about it, the more ashamed I was of how I reacted to seeing Papa in an
unguarded moment of human frailty. After I invaded his privacy, I selfishly
tried to make my discovery into something about me. He must have been living
with pain that hurt him deeply, and instead of creating drama and judging him,
I should have shown him compassion.

I was grateful
when Manny suggested that we keep quiet about my visit. He thought it would
embarrass Papa, and I was
sure
it would embarrass me. We hoped that he
would never ask, but we agreed that we would tell the truth if he did.

I never heard
anything from Papa about my visit to the farm that Sunday, but I was worried
for a while that he would find out and confront me. I was fortunate to learn a
lesson that didn't cost me nearly what it could have. I could have lost my
friendship with Papa, a man I loved every bit as much as I could have loved a
father.

A few days after
my unannounced visit to Deer Lake Farm, I told Papa about my fight with Carlee,
and I decided to take his advice. First, I apologized to her for anything hurtful
that I said or did, and then I offered to be her friend, but not her boyfriend.
I told her that we were too young to have an ugly fight that hurt both of us so
much and that we would be better off as friends without the stress. If we kept
our friendship going, then when we were older, we could redefine our relationship
as something more serious when we were mature enough to handle it.

I sounded very
wise when I repeated Papa's words to Carlee as if they were my own, and I was
glad when she agreed to my proposal. I was looking forward to having her for a
friend without all the drama that frustrated me and tore at my nerves. I looked
forward to making new friends since I would be able to speak to other kids at
school without looking around to see where Carlee was. Without a possessive
girlfriend, my life would be less complicated and more fun, just as a
teenager's life should be. It took less than a week for me to wonder how Carlee
and I could have interpreted our agreement in two such completely different
ways.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Three
years later

End
of November 2004

With a week to
go before the 4A state championship game was to be played in the state capitol,
sports media representatives invaded the town of Harper Springs, whose citizens
were  excited about the prospect of the Hawks making state football history. Several
schools had won three or more state football championships, but no team had ever
won three consecutive titles. After celebrating our first undefeated season, if
we beat our nemesis, the powerful Clinton-Bowman Eagles, in the state championship
game, the Harper Springs Hawks would be the first to achieve such an improbable
feat, and we would do so on regional television. Our team had already appeared
on the major sports network three times as part of the network's coverage of
the high school game of the week. The same network was the first to broadcast
the rumor that Coach Haney might be offered a job coaching college football.

I drew more
attention during my senior season and the days leading up to the title game than
I ever imagined possible for a high school football player. According to ratings
by all the national recruiting gurus, I was the best high school football
player in the country, and I could get a full ride to any university I chose.

Ant, who was
rated the nation's third best wide receiver, could also pick any school he
wanted. In my biased opinion, Ant was the best high school receiver in the
country, but he lost ratings points because he never grew taller than six feet,
while the top two guys were three and four inches taller than Ant was. A couple
of points in the rankings didn't really matter because Ant and I were going to
be a package deal in which some school would get both of us.

With the help of
Coach Haney, Papa, and the Mackeys, Ant and I avoided becoming part of any
recruiting violations that would come back to haunt us later. At the beginning
of the season, we put out the word that we would not visit any colleges or make
any decisions until after our high school football season was over. We steadfastly
refused to indicate any favorite colleges, and although we occasionally spoke to
college representatives who came to Hawks' games, we had no conversations with them
without one of our trusted adults present.

The 4A state
championship game would be played at the state's largest university stadium and
advance ticket sales set an all-time state record for any high school
postseason game. Everyone wanted to see two undefeated teams, one known for its
quick strike offense and the other for its stifling defense, in a game the
media called "the perfect storm." The Eagles had always been on our
side of one bracket, but because of conference realignments, we would be
playing our old rivals for the state title. The game would be televised
regionally, covered by more media people than usual, and attended by college recruiters
from across the country.

As much as the
fans wanted to witness the contest between the two state powerhouses, I was
nervous knowing that they also wanted to see the number one rated high school player
in America. I owned every quarterback record worth having. Records that some
people believed would never be broken. Still, I thought that no matter what I
had accomplished in the past, I would be remembered for the last game I played,
and I wanted my team and me to go out winners.

I was fully aware
of the media stories that suggested my athletic accomplishments were incredible
because I was raised in state care without the support of a family. I saw
things differently. I never viewed my success as something that I did on my own.
The first thirteen years of my life were full of grief, but after I met Papa,
all I had to do was follow his advice, and the rest was easier than it might
have looked.

***

From the opening
kickoff, the championship contest resembled a war more than a football game. It
was not an exhibition of the skill positions. The quarterbacks, running backs,
and receivers would not be making a highlight video of the game to show college
coaches. If defensive players wanted to show footage of quarterback sacks,
tailbacks stuffed at the line for no gain, and receivers involved in
devastating collisions, they had the right game. By the start of the fourth
quarter, the score was tied at 6-6, which represented two field goals made by
each team.

Statistically, I
played the worst game of my high school career. It was clear early on that the
Eagles were doing their best to neutralize my impact on the game, and I lost
count of how many times I was either sacked or brutally hit immediately after I
threw a pass. Running with the ball was no joy either as Max Summers could
verify. Because of the Eagles' efforts, I had never played in a game where I
was so frustrated and physically beaten.

On a
fourth-and-one play when I ran a quarterback sneak to pick up a critical first
down, I was battered from every angle. When I staggered to my feet, I saw my
helmet on the ground, my nose was gushing blood, and even with a mouth guard,
the crown had come off the tooth I broke at Stockwell. The officials called an
injury timeout for the team doctor to stop my nose and mouth from bleeding, and
the equipment manager used the time to adjust my helmet. Eric Mize, my backup,
had to take two snaps before I limped back into the game.

With our own
defense playing their best game of the year, I watched my defensive teammates
rough up Randy Newell, the Eagles quarterback until he was just as slow gaining
his feet as I was. Oddly enough, the summer after our sophomore years, Randy
and I were roommates in a college dorm during a three-week quarterback clinic
held at a small college near the state capitol. During three weeks of hanging
together each day, we became friends, and I not only had mad respect for Randy
as a good player, but also as a good guy.

With little more
than five minutes left in regulation play, the Eagles failed to move the ball
and punted to us. The Harper Springs' fans cheered when I completed two short
passes, which gave us a first down on the Eagles forty-seven yard line. For the
next three plays, the Eagles defense stiffened, and we were faced with fourth
down and six yards to go with less than three minutes left on the clock. The
crowd understood that it would be very risky for us to go for the first down
because, if we failed, the Eagles would be in great field position with enough
time to kick a field goal or score a touchdown to win the game.

Some of the more
observant Hawks' fans had wondered why Max Summers was part of the punting team
on every one of our punts since the beginning of the game. He was one of the
two backs who were the last defense to keep the Eagles from blocking a punt. Since
there were no changes at any point in the game, the Eagles coaches assumed that
since Max was such a good blocker for me on passing plays that we also used him
to block for the punter. Had the same coaches paid more attention to our game
films, they would have noticed that Max had never been used that way in a
previous game.

Coach Haney was
very quick to rush our punt team into formation so that we would not give the
Eagles time to think, and he was fortunate that the Eagle coaches, in a lapse
of judgment, did not call time out to prepare for the possibility of a fake
punt. When our snapper sailed the ball back to Max Summers instead of the
punter, the Eagles' reaction was slow enough that Max not only ran for a first
down, he sprinted to the Eagles' seven-yard line where the Eagle punt returner
had to make a touchdown saving tackle. The frustrated Eagles' coach threw his
clipboard five yards down the sideline and then called a time out to settle his
team and instruct them on their goal line defense. The Eagles were obviously
disheartened after our big play, and I hoped that they stayed that way a little
longer.

With a little
more than two minutes left in the game and the Eagles out of timeouts, our goal
was to score with very little time left on the clock for the Eagles to mount a drive.
I thought the safest play in our situation was to have me take the snap, wrap
both arms around the ball, and run it to any hole I saw. If I could not gain
yardage, we would at least run down the clock before attempting a game-winning
field goal. However, our kicker had been inconsistent all season, and Coach
Haney was surprised that he had already made two field goals in the game. With
the state championship on the line, Coach Haney wasn't thinking field goal. He
wanted an opportunity to score a touchdown before having to depend on our kicker
in a pressure situation.

Knowing that the
Eagles would be jamming the middle of the line to stop the run, Coach Haney
gave me the run or pass option. I would study the defense, and after the ball
was snapped, I would take a quick look for Ant on a fade route to the corner of
the end zone. If I did not see the perfect target with no chance of an
interception, I would run while protecting the ball with both arms.

When we lined
up, the Eagles bet a championship that we would run, and with their defense
stacked at the line, I knew they would be playing man coverage on my receivers.
The problem for them was that Ant was very difficult to cover one on one in a
short yardage situation when I could release the ball quickly.

The center
snapped the ball, and I took two quick steps backwards. I saw Ant cross the
goal line, fake left, fake right, and then cut hard left towards the corner.
The Eagles' defender bit on the second fake and slipped to the ground. With a
soft touch, I lofted an easy pass to Ant, who caught it in the corner of the
end zone for a touchdown. After having to fight like hell to gain a yard or two
on most plays during the game, the pass to Ant was as easy as playing catch in
the park.

Our fans roared
their approval, but our coaches reminded us that the game wasn't over because
we left enough time on the clock for our opponents to score. On their last
series, the Eagles made a valiant effort to tie us, working the ball to our
forty-five yard line before time ran out on their season. In a hard fought
game, we made history, and all of us on that undefeated, championship team
would forever be Harper Springs' heroes.

There were
security guards to control the crowd, but they soon gave up on keeping the
Hawks' fans off the field. My teammates and I were congratulated by fan after
fan, and for once, I didn't really mind so much. I accepted handshakes, pats,
and hugs from people I hardly knew, or didn't know at all. Eventually, the
special people in my life had their turns with me. They were all there. Papa, Manny,
Hal, Jenny, Miss Martin, Marcia Medlock, my foster brothers, Mr. Wilson, Mr.
Latham, and Coach Riddle. They were all surprised to see me so demonstrative
with my emotions.

I didn't even attempt
to make it to the locker room. I saw my teammates signing programs and posing
for pictures with fans, and I decided that I would do the same. Papa and the
rest of my adult friends were proud to see me take time to thank my fans for
their support.

One little boy,
who appeared to be about nine-years old, held out a program, but was too shy to
ask me to sign it. His father was a Harper Springs' police officer, who had
worked security at some of our home games. Sergeant Cox was always a friendly man,
and did his job without harassing the players or fans. He had a boyish face for
a man in his mid-thirties.

"Hi,
Sergeant Cox, who do we have here?" I asked.

"This is my
son, Stevie. All he talked about was getting your autograph, and now the cat
has his tongue. You're his hero, River, for more than one reason,"
explained the sergeant.

"Oh,
yeah?"

"Stevie was
a foster child too. My wife and I had a daughter, but we also wanted a son. Two
years ago, I was holding one of the department's safety classes at the junior boys
home where I met this little fellow, and we became fast friends. I brought
Sheila back to meet him, and we decided that we just couldn't find a better boy
to be our son. The adoption was final a couple months ago, and our family is
complete."

"Congratulations.
I'm happy for you guys." I dropped down to one knee so I could be closer
to Stevie's level. "Would you like me to sign your program, Stevie?"

Stevie was too
shy to make eye contact but managed to speak. "Yes, sir."

Sergeant Cox
chuckled. "River, you wouldn't believe his scrapbook. The thing is two inches
thick and full of newspaper articles and pictures of you. Now he meets you and
can't talk."

I grinned at
Stevie. "Wow, you must be my number one fan. Do you play football yet? Like
in pee wee?"

"Yes, sir. This
was my first year. I play quarterback just like you," said Stevie proudly.

"Awesome."
I took the boy's program and wrote,
"To my good friend, Stevie. How you
practice is how you play. Your bud, River Blue."

As I handed
Stevie the program, one of the area newspaper photographers asked me if I would
look his way for a picture. "Sure, if my buddy, Stevie Cox, is in the
photo. Be sure to identify him by name if the picture goes in the paper."

"Sure thing,
River." The reporter snapped a shot of us with my arm around Stevie.
"Hey, River, do you want me to doctor the photo, so it doesn't show your
broken tooth or your swollen nose?" I could tell that the photographer was
holding in a laugh.