Chapter 8

Saturday morning, I went out to my gym for a quick workout before breakfast. I knew I’d neglected my legs for much of the summer and that was one area in particular that needed work. I did box jumps for the second time that month. I figured I’d recovered enough and was smart enough this time not to overdo it. I did a few, then moved up to a higher box. After a few of those, I decided to try it with dumbbells in my hand. What an idiot. Rather than start at the lower height, I decided to try the higher box with a twenty-five-pound dumbbell in each hand.

Laying on the box, with the dumbbells on the floor, I remembered the time Sally tried to bench press a weight far beyond her ability. I should have known better. I got up and checked for injury. Apparently, I had just dislocated my pride but other than that, I was fine. I dropped down to ten-pound dumbbells and the lower height. After ten reps of that, I was gasping for breath.

I grabbed a Gatorade and a towel and walked up to the house. I still had an hour until Franklin would arrive. “You have two messages, Mr. Popular. Three, actually,” Mom hollered from the kitchen. “Hungry?”

“I might be able to eat something.”

“Don’t start with the understatement business. One Dane is bad enough in that department.”

“What department?” Dane asked as he came in from the back.

“Being the king of understatement. Kim called but she said there was no hurry. Vince called and said he’d call back this evening, and Someone named Allen Conrad called and he sounded a little panicked.” She handed me his number and I called him.

“Hey, Allen. What’s up?”

“You know what Goose Creek did to us on the football field, right?”

“Yeah. Forty-two to ten, I think. Why?”

“Ben Lippen just did that to Goose Creek only worse.”

“No way.”

“Sixty-one to three.”

“Dang, Allen.”

“Yeah. And now everyone is waiting for my scouting report on how we can beat them. It’s easy. All we need is for our offensive line to grow fifty pounds of muscle by next week, Jay to have the game of his life, and their quarterback to die.”

“And now, you’re stuck being the bearer of bad news.”

“And I don’t want to be. It’s not what I signed up for. I’m supposed to call Coach Littleton today.”

“I’ll call you right back,” I said, hanging up abruptly. “How long ago did Vince call?”

“Ten minutes, at most.”

I looked up his number and called him. When he picked up, I explained what was going on and asked for advice.

“First thing for Allen and the team is to look at this as an opportunity. Ask Allen if they have any specific weaknesses we can exploit and what strengths they like to use. Tell him to just be factual, when he calls Littleton. That’s going to do a couple of things. First, if Allen wants to play next year, his objective report will go a long way. Second, Coach Littleton isn’t under the illusion that PG is some great powerhouse. Third, Ben Lippen probably thinks they can look past PG because they think all they have to do is show up. You said, Jay had a great game. Who’s to say that was his best?”

“Okay. Be factual. Zero in on strengths and weaknesses and let Littleton take care of the rest.”

“Yup. Home game or away?”

“Away.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make it any easier. Going into a game like that, trying to be upbeat and encouraging is the toughest part of being a QB at a small school. Any QB. Part of the game. If we do get trounced, how Jay rallies the guys to bounce back the following week is huge. Keep that in mind if you happen to talk to Jay after the game.”

“Thanks Vince.” I was about to hang up when I remembered, “You called me, Vince. What was on your mind?”

“I just wanted to say, ‘Thanks’. I talked to the coach the other day and let him know my plans. He understood completely.”

“And that’s without seeing Lani.”

“Exactly. Anyway, once I made the decision, and especially after spending Labor Day weekend there, I feel pretty good about it.”

“How about your dad? What did he say about it?”

“He said every man has to find his own path and if I’m happy with my decision, then so is he.”

We talked for a few minutes about his timeline and hung up. I called Allen back and relayed what Vince had told me. He seemed relieved and that he would be glad to get in the pool on Monday and get back to swimming. Too many variables in football. That done, I called Kim.

“Hey, Baby. What’s up?” I asked.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. Homecoming is in a couple of weeks.”

“I knew that. I’d ask you to the game but I have a hunch you’re already going.”

“Thanks, dufus. There’s a homecoming queen and a king, too.”

“Yeah?” I knew that.

“Miss Bentz gave me a heads up. Any senior or junior can be nominated and then it’s a popularity contest.”

“Right. I was going to say that I knew that but the truth is, I never gave any thought.”

“Well, you better start giving it some thought.” Oh, oh.

“Why’s that?”

“Miss Bentz is in charge of the whole thing. She has all the nominations and she calls them ahead of time, just to let them know, so it’s not a surprise on Monday.”

“And you’ve been nominated. Of course, you’ve been nominated. You’ll make a great homecoming queen. I don’t even know what that means. Will I be one of your subjects?” I joked.

“Probably not, Aquaman. Guess who’s been nominated for homecoming king.”

“No idea.”

“None?” she asked, and waited. “You, you dufus.”

“No, no, no. I don’t want any of that. What is it that I don’t want?”

“You don’t want to be the center of attention. Miss Bentz had to check with Mr. McClusky to see if you were technically eligible or not. He said you are.”

“What does that mean? What happens if we win?”

“We dress up for the football game, ride into the stadium in somebody’s convertible, wave to our adoring fans, and then get the first dance after the game. It’s just for fun.”

I thought about it for a minute. “Is that something that you would want to do?”

“It’s not in my top ten list of things to do.”

“Do you mind if I don’t? I can ask to have my name taken off the list, right?”

“You could. Then when I win, Jay Spencer will get the first dance with me,” she answered.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

“Yes. You don’t want to do it, right?”

“Not really. We’ve already had enough time in the spotlight. Limo for basketball, engaged. Let’s let somebody else do it. If that’s okay with you. If you want to do it, then I will.”

“Relax, Aquaman. I already told Miss Bentz that we’d take a pass on it.”

“Pretty predictable, huh?”

“In a good way, Aquaman. In a good way. Be careful driving around today.”

“What was that all about?” Mom asked.

“Nothing,” I said but it was obvious that wasn’t going to cut it. “Nothing. Kim was just giving me a heads up about something that isn’t going to happen.”

“Uh-huh. I gathered that much. Homecoming?”

That’s what I get for taking calls in the kitchen. “Kim said Miss Beltz gave her a heads up that the two of us had been nominated for homecoming king and queen. No thanks.”

“Aw. It would be fun,” she said, putting a plate of food on the table. A short stack of pancakes with a couple of over-easy eggs on top and a side of sausage looked good to me. I sat down and Dane sat across from me.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Dane said, looking at my plate.

“Okay, but I have to warn you, he can box and is learning Kung Fu,” she said sliding my plate across to Dane.

“Not funny,” we both said at the same time, and Dane slid my plate back. Mom started making him a plate.

“You might want to reconsider,” Dane said, reaching for one of my sausages. I smacked his hand and made fists to show him I was serious. He put his hands up in surrender. “When it’s time to apply to a college, they look at everything. You have great grades, and swimming and baseball certainly help. Being the homecoming king shows them something different.”

“That’s right, Honey. They want well-rounded people.”

“Winning a popularity contest shows them that?” I asked in disbelief. “I think if a college thinks that, then I’ve picked the wrong college.”

“Yes. No. It’s just that the greater variety your application demonstrates, the happier they are with your application. Drama, chess club, homecoming king all show that.”

I thought about that for a few minutes. Nope. “Got it. I understand the idea but I think I’ll look for a different way to show that I’m well-rounded. I bet helping with Habitat for Humanity would help, wouldn’t it? That has to be better than being a homecoming king.”

“He’s got a point, Christie.”

“I still think it would be fun but it’s obviously up to you. Is that going to be enough?” she asked, as she set a plate in front of Dane.

“That’s for him?” I asked.

“Hush. I’ll make more if you want it.”

I looked at the clock. “No. Thanks, though. Franklin is supposed to be here in a couple of minutes. It was good,” I said, taking my plate to the sink. “Maybe another sausage.” I grabbed a couple out of the pan and waved as I left to get ready.

I got behind the wheel and Franklin and I took off, driving first, around the neighborhood. He pointed out the things I should look for in a residential area. Then we took the Cross-Town Connector to I26 and got on the freeway. No stop and go traffic and that was a plus. Merging and changing lanes was pretty easy. I decided that I liked the freeway. Franklin said I wouldn’t like it as much at rush hour. We went all the way north to Main Street in Summerville, then cut across to Bacons Bridge Road and then to the 61 and drove past Middleton Place and Magnolia Plantation. Huge live oak trees on either side of the road were beautiful but constantly driving in and out of their shadows was a bit distracting. Still, traffic was light and it was enjoyable.

We came full circle back to the Connector and took it into Historic King Street. I think it might be against the law to say King Street without putting the word ‘historic’ in front of it. It’s a one-way street that’s a nightmare for nervous drivers. There’s a lot of pedestrian traffic made up of shoppers, college students, and tourists. Franklin said it was okay to hit tourists but not college students or shoppers. When I told him I had a couple of tourists in my sights, he changed the rules and said I couldn’t hit them, either.

We made it all the way east to The Battery and circled back on East Bay Street. He had me turn in to the post office parking lot and put it in park. “Why don’t you take a breath? You’re doing fine. You haven’t hit anyone. You only scared four or five people and only two people have honked at you. That’s not bad. On top of that, I haven’t given you very much instruction, have I?”

“No. I don’t like yellow lights very much. I never know whether I should slow down or speed up.”

“That’s pretty normal, I think. It comes with practice. It’s a good idea to make sure no one’s riding your bumper before slowing down too fast. You’re doing fine. Ready to try parallel parking?”

“No!”

“Ha. We’ll do that in the neighborhood on another day. Let’s get some lunch.”

“Great. Where do you want to go?”

“You’re driving. You decide.” Whoo boy. I liked this.

Two hours later, we were back at my house with bellies full of Tandoori Chicken and naan. I parked and we went to the gym to go over our Wing Chun lesson from Thursday night. Twice through everything and we felt pretty good about it.

“Have you given some thought to his question?” Franklin asked.

“How do you take away an opponent’s desire to fight? Yeah. I have some ideas. They’re probably all wrong though.”

“Yeah. I kind of feel the same way. You did good. Looking forward to next Tuesday. Oh, and next time I’m driving, I might just stop for Indian. That was really good.”

“You should have seen the work crew when we all went there for lunch. They liked it, too, but they were pretty cautious, at least on the first trip through the buffet line.”

I thanked Franklin, then went in to work on homework. I was mostly finished and there was an hour until supper. I went for a swim. The pool had never seemed particularly short until I started swimming on the team. After a couple of laps underwater, I strapped on the tether belt and swam in place for a while. It was a good workout but I had no sense of how fast or slow I was going. I experimented on what I could work on while tethered and settled on breathing.

Without laps to mark my progress it was easy to lose track of time. I guess I’d done that when Mom hollered at me. “Going anyplace special? Supper’s ready.” I popped up, took off the tether, and went in. Swimming tethered wasn’t particularly satisfying. Maybe having a clock on the deck to keep track of my workout would help.

Dane was on call and had been called in for an emergency something or other so it was just Mom and me for supper. She asked about my day and week and I gave her a rundown.

“I spoke with Art McClusky yesterday. He asked how you were doing. Considering that you skipped a grade, then missed a week with measles, I think you’re doing pretty well.” She waited for my reaction.

“It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. The only thing I really had trouble catching up on was keyboarding but I’m back up with everyone else, now.”

“He asked about you and Kim, football, and the new kid you’ve been working with.”

“What did you tell him? This is really good, by the way,” I said, pointing at the stroganoff she’d made.

“I told him you and Kim seem to be doing just fine, you aren’t interested in football, and that he should ask you about the new kid.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Anything else going on up there,” she said, pointing to my head with a fork full of salad.

I thought about it for a minute. “I’ve spent the day apart from Kim. I needed that to realize that I miss some people.”

“Like who?”

“Like Mrs. Diedrich, Art and the crew, and Vince. I guess that’s about it.”

“And Sally?”

“Goes without saying. I miss her all the time. I’m just glad she and her dad got things straightened out. I miss Timex but Seiko seems to be pretty good.”

“Seiko?”

“Sifu Chen. Timex nicknamed him Seiko. Seiko is Japanese but Sifu Chen is Chinese. It’s their inside joke.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes and then, Mom said, “You know, for someone as analytical as you are, you sure develop some strong emotional ties.” I didn’t say anything. What could I say? “That’s not a bad thing. Just an observation.”

“I guess. I mean, it’s just normal for me. There’s a kid, I think he’s in sixth grade, who has Aspergers. He’s really analytical and he doesn’t seem to have emotional ties to anything.”

“Aspergers is a form of autism, I think. He’s on the spectrum. That’s how they say it.”

“Well, maybe I’m on the other end of the spectrum. I don’t even know what that means.”

“You’re not autistic but I know what you mean.”

“I guess what I meant was, that not having emotional ties is normal for him. It’s just the way he is. I’ve heard that he’s really smart. Strange.” It was quiet for a few minutes as we finished. When we got up to clear the table, Mom gave me a hug. It felt pretty good, and for some reason, I needed it.

“Call her,” she said, and I knew she meant Sally. I called Sally. We talked about nothing for two hours. Her life was going well. Her dad was acting suspiciously like a dad should. School was going great and her sweetheart was still her sweetheart. She asked for my update and I gave it.

It seemed like we were about to hang up when she said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Guess who came into Merrill’s Ranch while I was playing last week.”

“I have no idea. Being in the heart of Nashville, it could have been just about anyone.”

“That’s just it, Aquaman. If I’d been doing the same thing in Charleston, there’s no way Dolly Parton would hear me play.”

“No way. Even I know who Dolly Parton is. Did you meet her?”

“She and her husband were leaving and she stopped to talk for a minute. She asked how old I was and told me I was a natural.”

“That’s amazing.”

“What’s amazing is that I didn’t have a camera with me and didn’t take her picture or, better yet, a picture of the two of us and I didn’t get her autograph.”

“You got something better. She heard you play and you got her compliment. That’s pretty amazing. That’s exciting, Sally. I’ve never met anyone famous before. At least, I don’t think so. Not really famous, at any rate. She was in Nine to Five and why am I telling you? You already know all about her, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I knew there was something going on while I was playing but I didn’t know what. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t or I might have done something stupid like try to play one of her songs that I don’t know very well.”

“She heard you play what you love to play and she liked it. Maybe she’ll come back.”

“Maybe. I’m taking a camera with me to work from now on.”

“You never know who’s going to come through that door,” I said. “We’ve been talking all this time and you save that until the end?”

“I knew if I started with that, it would be all I wanted to talk about.”

“You’re just floating, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, so how does that change anything? Or does it change anything?”

“Definitely. I’m learning a lot of new songs. I want to broaden my repertoire. If Kenny Rogers came in and said, I want to sing Tennessee Bottle. If you can play it, I’ll sing it. Well, I want to be able to.”

“Haha. How many songs are you going to have to learn?”

“About a million. It’s impossible. But I want to try to learn the chart toppers because you never know.”

“You’re going to be a chart-topper,” I said.

“One can dream.”

“Are you having fun?”

“I am. More than I ever thought. I was so, so down when we first moved here. I still miss you, but I am having fun.”

“I’m super happy about that, Sally. Super happy.” We talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. Wow. If Dolly Parton heard Sally play and that made her happy, then I was a Dolly Parton fan. Sally was happy. Really happy and that made me happy. Talk about a pick-me-up.

I found Mom in the library, reading, and told her about my conversation with Sally, and, oh, by the way, Dolly Parton said she was a natural. Mom doesn’t swear. Ronnie didn’t and that was one of the things he hammered home. It was unprofessional and serves no good purpose. But when I told Mom, I think he would have excused her reaction.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Mom.”

“Sorry. You’re not kidding, are you?” I shook my head. “That’s awesome. She’s really happy about that, too, isn’t she?”

“Cloud nine. And what’s amazing is that she managed to save that little tidbit until the end of the conversation.”

“She’s happy, and now you’re happy, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Go do some box jumps.”

“Really?”

“You’re all wound up. Go burn off some energy and do some good. You know I’m right. Go do them until you wish you’d brought your pillow out there with you.”

She was right. I went for a run first, then did box jumps. When I climbed into bed, the only thing on my mind was sleep.

I was rested when I woke up, but when I tried to stand, my legs complained. That was new. I stood and then tried doing some deep squats. I got down about halfway when I decided to rethink it. Holy crap. I finally managed to do some deep squats but it took some work. Showered and dressed, I went looking for breakfast.

What I found instead was Dane and Dr. Legare sitting at the dining room table talking about a UCL reconstruction surgery Dr. Legare was going to assist with that week. I listened for a while and then pulled up a seat. They were talking about a college baseball player and focusing on ways to minimize recovery time. Dane mentioned my experience with swimming and videotaping. He suggested they video his range of motion before the surgery to have a comparison for after. Dr. Legare seemed to think that was a fine idea. I listened in silence for quite a while when curiosity got the best of me.

“What’s a UCL reconstruction?” I asked.

“UCL reconstruction surgery repairs a torn ulnar collateral ligament inside the elbow. You replace a tendon with a tendon from elsewhere in the body,” Doctor Legare said.

“When it works properly, the patient ends up with full range of motion, minimal inflammation and pain. I bet you’ve heard of it before. Tommy John surgery,” Dane said.

“Pitcher for the Dodgers,” I said.

“He was,” Dr. Legare said. “Now, he’s a Yankee, a disgusting turn of events.” Dane rolled his eyes.

“Tommy John was the first pitcher to have that surgery done and then go back to playing again. I think we’re going to see a lot more of it. Hate to see it on someone so young,” Dane said.

“Where do you get a new tendon from?” I asked.

“Forearm, usually,” Dr. Legare said. “Maybe the hamstring.”

“You don’t usually do this, do you?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, I do it too often. I prefer to assist as others have more current experience. This is the son of a friend. Actually, he’s a coach at USC who asked me to help them with their gym and training regimen many years ago. We’ve stayed in touch.”

“You know a lot of athletes and coaches, don’t you?” I asked.

“I guess I do.”

“Good people?”

“Good attitudes, in general. I like people with drive and ambition. I like you, young man, but I hope to never see you in the OR.”

“Maybe when you’re testing some new piece of equipment I invented.”

“I like that. Invent artificial tendons while you’re at it so we don’t have to do two surgeries.”

“Is that even possible?” I asked.

“Highly unlikely,” he said, really drawing it out. “I believe the designer has retained patent rights.”

“I don’t know, Hank. Artificial hearts. Artificial hips. Who knows?”

“I bet Evel Knievel knows,” I said.

“I think that man has broken every bone in his body that isn’t a part of his middle ear. I, for one, am glad I am not his physician,” Dr. Legare said.

“Job security,” Dane said.

“You know, part of the reason I want to become a biomedical engineer is to get rid of the emotional drama. But I think I’ll just be one step removed from it. You’re talking about this guy’s future.”

“We are,” Dr. Legare said.

“How does that not mess with you?”

“I had a healthy young patient die on the operating table once. It was totally unexpected. We did everything right but he died anyway. Nothing in med school could have prepared me for that.”

“How do you deal with it?” I asked.

“You do the best that you can and you don’t worry about the things you can’t control.”

“Have you ever messed up the things you could control?”

“Oh, yes. But never to the point where the effects were fatal, or even long-lasting. I can’t imagine a surgeon not wishing a second chance every now and then,” Dr. Legare said.

“I think I’d prefer that once-removed sort of aspect of designing stuff. I mean, it would definitely be cool to cure someone or heal them or whatever, but messing something up would be pretty bad.”

“There are fields and procedures where the success rate is extremely high,” Dane said.

“If you were one of those peculiar types that disappointment doesn’t bother, the oncology department wants you,” Dr. Legare said. I couldn’t remember what oncology meant and it must have shown on my face. “Cancer.”

My shoulders must have dropped about six inches. I couldn’t imagine. “What has to happen to cure cancer?” I asked.

“We have made more progress reducing cancer deaths by discouraging smoking than anything we’ve done to cure it,” Dr. Legare said. “You can lump causes of death into a couple of broad categories. Heart disease is the biggest killer. Proper diet and exercise are far more potent than any surgeon’s scalpel.” I looked at Dane and he nodded in agreement.

“What are the others?”

“Cancer. Don’t smoke. Proper diet and exercise reduce your risk by a considerable amount. Don’t smoke, limit your alcohol, and don’t live in Los Angeles, are all helpful. Not all cancer has causes we understand.”

“None of those are medical,” I said.

“They are not. Current medical practices are far more concerned with treating disease than preventing it,” Dr. Legare said.

“Seems backward, especially if prevention can work.”

“Ayup. It is a peculiar approach.”

“What has to change?” I asked.

“Insurance,” Dane said. “When health insurance will begin to cover preventive measures, people might be more inclined. Education. I think most people have no idea how much control they have over their own health.”

“We launched a space shuttle last spring. Huge rocket,” Dr. Legare said. “With the wrong fuel, it never would have made it off the ground, let alone into space. Put the wrong fuel in your car and it will tell you about that mistake. If the prospect of working in oncology depresses you, go to the grocery store and look at the fuel people are putting in their carts.”

“What do you eat, Dr. Legare? What kind of fuel do you use?”

“Hmmm. I eat a lot of fish for protein. I have a freezer full of venison. Some chicken, lean beef, and very rarely pork. I eat a lot of eggs and a lot of vegetables. I eat very little bread, rice, or pasta.”

“What about dessert? Do you treat yourself ever?”

“Oh, yes. I have blueberries growing wild in the backyard and they make a wonderful treat. I wish we could grow more fruit here. I have a peach tree and a nectarine that do well. I wish we could grow mangos.”

“I’ve seen you eat pizza and all kinds of stuff when you’re here. Splurging is okay now and then?”

“A wise fitness guru once said that our bodies are like a checking account. If you make regular deposits to their health, you can make withdrawals on occasion. You simply have to deposit more than you withdraw.”

“I know who that is. Jack Lalanne, the leotard guy on TV.”

“I’ll have you know that Jack LaLanne once performed one thousand pushups and one thousand pull-ups in ninety minutes. He exercised two hours a day and much of that was swimming. He was ahead of his time and responsible for a great number of people exercising and eating properly. I’m certain he’s done more for the health of Americans than Dane and I will ever do.”

“Wow. I just thought he had a funky TV show.”

“No, he is the real thing.”

“Lots of swimming, too. That’s kind of cool,” I said.

“He swam from Alcatraz to Fisherman’s Wharf in handcuffs one year. I believe it was on his birthday.”

“Okay. That’s kind of weird. Impressive, but weird. Why would he do the crazy stuff? Just to do it? Guinness Book of World Records?”

“Perhaps, but I believe it was for publicity, not for himself but for fitness. Your mom has a poster of Rachel McLish in the gym. Inspirational. How much has she contributed to the fitness of Americans?” he asked.

“She makes me want to work out,” I said.

“Me too,” Dane added.

“Ayup. Very, ah, inspirational,” Dr. Legare said.

“She has certain feminine charms,” I said.

“She does, indeed.”

“Dr. Legare, what do you think about kung fu?” I asked, changing the subject. I wanted to get his input but I knew I’d interrupted them.

“I know a bit about it. I’ve worked with a few martial artists. From what I can ascertain, it could be very beneficial. Much better, in the long run, than boxing. I know some practitioners in their eighties. I don’t know anyone that old that boxes. I believe taking that into account is of value. I cannot speak to its efficacy as a means of self-defense. I will leave that to the experts. Phil would be better able to address that issue.”

“Dr. Timmerman,” I said and he nodded. “Franklin and I had our first lesson with Sifu Chen last week and it was interesting.”

“Seiko!” he said, loudly. “I have not seen him in quite some time. Glad to hear he is still at it.”

“You know Sifu Chen, and I know you know Timex. Do you know how he got the nickname Seiko?”

“Yes,” he said and stopped. “No, no. Best you hear it from him and don’t spread it around. Very few know it. Timex, on the other hand, is very well known by his nickname.”

I had a sudden feeling the Sifu Chen was older than I had first thought. “Do you know how old Sifu Chen is?”

“I’m sure he’s closing in on seventy.”

“Seventy? Really? I thought he was more like forty.”

“No, no. I think he began teaching here around 1955 or 1960. It was probably 1960. Very few people were teaching any sort of Chinese boxing back then. Not in America. I think he moved here because he wanted to teach and there were very few Chinese here. They didn’t like anyone giving away the secrets of kung fu. Of course, it’s very popular now. Back then, it was very secretive. Of course, that changed when The Green Hornet aired in 1967 or so.”