I put the spoon to my lips again, kissed it loud enough for her to hear, then fed her a bite. Bev seemed to have to remember
how to swallow. “Plain,” she said. “But good.”
“More?”
“Mm-hm.”
I held another small bite to her lips. “Check the temperature,” she said.
I kissed the spoon and fed her some more. Four or five more bites, all with a kiss of the spoon, and the oatmeal was gone.
“Toast?” I said.
She shook her head.
“Anything else?”
She nodded.
“What? What do you want, Bev?”
“Kiss, boss.”
“You sure, lady?”
“Find me mouthwash first.”
N
eedless to say, I couldn’t wait for the next day, but there was this matter of a football game that night. We took a 1-1 record
in nonconference games into our league opener, which also happened to be Homecoming. Actually, every game at Athens City was
Homecoming, because not that many people left after high school, and if they did, it was cause they’d lost their job at American
Leather and couldn’t afford to come back anyway. Families and friends of the fifteen players were there, of course, and a
bunch of students who didn’t care one way or the other but came out of curiosity, I think, to see if anything would happen
because of all the guys Coach booted. I didn’t see any of the kicked-off kids, and a lot of their friends must have boycotted
us too.
All that to say we had a pretty small crowd. The band and the pom pom squad were down too, and we’d lost one cheerleader whose
brother was a benchwarmer who wouldn’t have played anyway.
Otherwise it looked like Homecoming. There were the usual banners, even one for the team to break through when we headed out
onto the field. But the Dickinson Dolphins had to know something was wrong when they had as many fans at the game as we did.
Normally I don’t let anything get in the way of my focus at a game, but when I looked to see where Rachel was, she seemed
so happy I had to look again. She was motioning me to come see her. The band was setting up for the national anthem, so I
jogged across the track to the fence in front of the stands. Carrying two boxes full of papers, Rachel hurried down from her
seat near Tee. She was laughing. “Tee was wondering if you and Coach were gonna suit up,” she said, but I think she could
tell from my look that she coulda told me that later at home. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, “but two things real quick.”
“Real quick,” I said.
She opened the top box for me and there was a whole pile of signed petitions from people willing to see the Jack Schuler Scholarship
go to saving the school. I could’ve told her that the people who hated Schuler for what he’d done to the team had signed those
cause they didn’t care if nobody got the scholarship now. But I didn’t want to spoil Rachel’s fun. She’d finally started seeing
progress.
“Don’t know what I think about that, honey,” I said. “Now what else?”
“Elvis asked if he could take me to TAG.”
“TAG?”
“The After Game,” she said. “A little Homecoming dance in the gym and some snacks, that’s all.”
“It’s like a date, you know.”
“That’s why I’m asking you. We’ll be home by midnight.”
“You want me to say no so you’ll have an out?”
“I’d like to go.”
“Be wise.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Sure, but we’re clear on this boy, right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m trying to be a good influence on him.” The anthem started and I turned to head back to the team. “Thanks, Daddy.”
• • •
We were awful. I don’t know how else to say it. The whole first half it was Buster throwing his hat, kicking over coolers,
throwing his clipboard. Nothing was working. Seemed like every series it was three failed plays and Snoot was punting. We
never even got close enough for a field goal try, and the Dolphins scored 14 in the first quarter and 7 in the second.
I felt sorry for the kids. It wasn’t like they weren’t trying. We were just asking too much of too few. Eight of em had to
play on both offense and defense, and quick as they were, they hadn’t learned yet how to make the adjustment without a break.
Trying to give somebody a breather, Coach sent Snoot in on defense. The Shermanater pointed him to the line and set him up
against a monster. Snoot stepped across the line of scrimmage, pointed in the guy’s face, and yelled, “I’m gonna rip your
head off!”
The monster threw his head back and laughed. And when the ball was snapped, he drove Snoot to the turf and rolled him over.
The little guy had to be helped off the field, all the while hollering, “Leave me out there! I wasn’t finished with him yet!”
With us down 21-0, there was nothing to say at half time. Coach just sat there staring, and I saw a look I hadn’t seen since
he came back. He would open his mouth to say something, then press his lips together, shrug, and shake his head. Finally he
just pointed at me and I led the team back out onto the field.
The second half was even worse, and Coach was furious. At one point he swept everything off the table behind the bench, cooler,
paper cups, and all, then tipped over the table. Dickinson’s coach put in his scrubs when the game was out of reach, and we
lost 34-0.
Our guys were so beat up at the final gun that they just collapsed on the field. Some sat, some lay on their backs, all yanked
off their helmets and sucked wind while our little crowd clapped for em out of courtesy.
I stood waiting for em to get up. When they got off the field, Coach and I would give em their due. I thought. But when I
turned to say something, he was gone. I turned in a circle and saw him marching out toward his car. I ran and caught him as
he ripped off his whistle and threw it into the Mustang.
As he dug for his keys I said, “Coach! You can’t just walk out on these boys.”
“They won’t listen,” he said.
“So you’re done?”
He reached for the car door. “I gave it a shot. It’s over. It’s what the board and everybody wants anyway.”
“You’re a coward,” I said. He laughed. We both knew it wasn’t true, but I had to get to him somehow. “When people don’t listen
to you, you quit. You did it twelve years ago, and you’re doing it right now.”
“Now, you watch it, Sawyer.”
“No! What about not moving on until you succeed right here? What about ‘The spirit of division is our enemy.’ I believe those
things. That’s why I’m still here.”
He got in the car. “You should have left years ago, Calvin.”
“Look,” I said. “All I know is that when you left, this town started to die. And this town, this team, Elvis, they need you.
And you need them.”
He shook his head. “Well, they don’t get the wishbone.”
“Then teach em something else.”
“I don’t know nothing else,” he said, and we both had to chuckle.
“Coach, this team’s like your Mustang; they’re fast and quick. You can’t keep driving em like they’re a two-tontruck.” He
looked straight ahead, and I didn’t know what else to say. “Would you just sleep on that?”
• • •
I never relax till Rachel’s home, so I sat on the porch strumming some chords of my favorite John Prine stuff. I’m no picker,
so the neighbors were probably glad when Rachel came up the walk just before midnight and I put the guitar up. I squinted
past her and waved at Elvis Jackson. He saluted shyly and kept walking.
Rachel sat and laid her head on my shoulder.
“He’ll be in love with you fore you know it,” I said. “Careful.”
“You’ve always trusted me, Daddy.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“He knows enough to worry about you too,” she said.
I laughed and told her about Bev. Well, not all about what happened, a course. Before she could start bugging me about it
I changed the subject back to Elvis. “How was the, what’d you call it? TAG?”
“Boring. We went for a walk. I’ve been trying to get him to see the bigger picture. I took him to the train cars.”
Three abandoned cars sat on a stretch of track about a block long at the edge of town. When Athens City had started dying,
so had the rail line. The doors had been welded open so kids couldn’t get locked in. The walls had graffiti all over em with
names and years of graduation and stuff.
When Rachel was younger, she often asked me to walk her there and let her sit and look at the names. She’d run her fingers
over the names and make up stories about the people. If I let her, she’d spend hours.
“That’s as good a place as any to give a guy the bigger picture, as you say.”
“I think he was impressed, Daddy. Hard not to be with all those memories on the wall. That boy’s got memories he doesn’t talk
about.”
I didn’t know how much I should say. “Just between me and you, I checked with the registrar to see where he was living and
he’s listed at Orville Washington’s address. Something tells me Mr. Washington doesn’t know that.”
“Why?” she said.
“Cause his boys played when I did and he used to come to the games. Don’t you think if he was putting up a football player,
he’d be coming again?”
Rachel shrugged. “Elvis washes his own clothes.”
“That so?”
She nodded. “Could he use our washer and dryer?”
“He asked?”
“My idea. I haven’t said anything.”
“I wouldn’t want you doing his wash for him.”
Rachel laughed. “Neither would I! I’d just tell him he can use our machines.”
I stood and she followed me inside. “So, is he open to anything you’re saying?”
“He’s listening. I promised to help him with history. I won’t hold back, Daddy. I’m not gonna waste time on a guy who’s against
what’s important to me.”
“Atta girl,” I said.
The phone rang. “Am I calling too late?” Coach said. I told him it was okay and he said, “You got an offense that’ll work
with fifteen beat-up kids?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I spose it’s some sorta newfangled passing game.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Agh!”
“I can keep it simple and have playbooks copied by Monday practice,” I said.
There was a long silence.
“Do it,” he said. Least that’s what I thought he said.
“Beg pardon?”
“You heard me, Sawyer.”
“Need to make sure, Coach.”
#8220;I said, ‘Do it.’ Even saying that feels like swearing. Can I have em by tomorrow?”
“You’re gonna call a Saturday practice after a loss on Homecoming weekend?”
“I spose not. Fact, I’m going to see Helena tomorrow morning.”
“How early?”
“Early. Why?”
“I, uh, would just be happy to go along if you needed company, but course if you don’t and you’d rather I butt out, I can
do that too. I need to be back by late morning anyway.”
Coach was silent a little too long. Then, “Why don’t you just come out and ask me what an old alkie looks like, Sawyer?”
“Now, Coach, you know me better’n that. I’m offering to stand with ya during a tough time is all. If you’re no-thanking me
I’d preciate it if you’d just say so.”
Another long pause. “Calvin, forgive me. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, now I was out of line. I’m sensitive about Helena and—”
“I understand.”
“Actually, I would appreciate some company tomorrow.”
“Count me in,” I said.
“Okay, but I’m still gonna need a copy of your new offense so I can start studying this heresy.”
M
orning came early, and on the drive to Fairhope Coach told me it was unlikely Miz Schuler would want to see me or even know
I was there. “She doesn’t even want me there,” he said. “Doesn’t want her
self
there.”
“Is there a waiting room?”
“You can wait in the hall. Actually, I wouldn’t mind you hearing how we talk. Or don’t talk. Maybe you got some ideas. I’m
out.”
“She still mad at you?”
“I wish. She doesn’t talk to me at all now.”
We pulled in a few minutes later. “She sleeping?” Buster asked the receptionist, removing his hat.
“No, she’s been up pacing already. She’s in her room now, though.”
Coach motioned me to follow, grabbing a straight-back chair from the lobby. He set it outside her door for me and went in.
“Hello, darling,” he said, and I heard him slipping off his jacket and a chair squeaking. “Hope they’re taking good care of
ya and that you’re getting some rest. Need anything? Nothing? I can get you what you want or call somebody for ya. Nothing?
Okay.
“Teaching’s going all right, but kids ain’t like they used to be, ya know. I try to make it as interesting as history can
be coming from a guy who looks like he was there when it happened. You were always good in history, weren’t you? Well, you
were always good in everything.”
I heard nothing for a while and checked my watch. He sat in there more than ten minutes without saying a thing. I thought
I heard him sniffling. Finally he says, “You ought to see Cal Sawyer’s girl. Remember her? Rachel. She’s a junior now, a beautiful
young woman and a wonderful Christian.” There was another long pause. “Well, love, I won’t keep ya. Just wanted to check in.
You let me know if you need anything, hear?”
She was still ignoring him, and his pain came over me so fast I could feel my face scrunching up to keep from crying. I lost
the battle. But just as I heard him turning to leave, she spoke. Her tone was so cold it made me shudder. “You think I’m blind
and deaf besides drunk and insane?”
“Of course not, Helena. And they tell me you’re making progress.”
“You think if you don’t tell me you’re back coaching, I won’t know?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“So it’s better I find out elsewhere.”
“I apologize.”
“Typical,” Miz Schuler said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Typical jock logic.”
“All I can say is I’m sorry, darling.”
“Won’t be satisfied until you kill someone else’s boy?”
I don’t know how Coach kept from responding to that, but maybe he didn’t trust himself to say anything civil.