Chapter 27: After Effects

September 7, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

When I stopped home just before 8:00pm on my way back to McKinley, I found my dad alone in the living room, sitting in his easy chair, drinking Scotch on the rocks.

"Hi, Dad. Where's Mom?"

"Sleeping. She's completely worn out by last night and today. I'm surprised you're not."

"I'll crash when I get back to my dorm. How did it go?"

He held up his glass, "Third one. How do you think?"

I slumped down onto the couch.

"Not good," I sighed.

He took a long drink from his glass, then stared into it for a moment.

"She was fine until they went to take her into the facility. She cried and begged us not to leave her, promising she'd be good. Mike, she called us 'Mommy' and 'Daddy', and she hasn't done that in years. Your mom lost it at that point. And you can see where I am."

He held up the glass, then drained it.

"What can I do?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Go back to school. I'll take care of your mom. That's my job. The doctors will take care of Liz. That's their job. You take care of you, that's your job."

"But..."

"No, Mike. This is a horrible situation already. Don't make it worse by messing up your life, too. Liz knew what was going to happen. That's why she told you to go see Tasha and Emmy. I could never have resisted both you and your mom demanding we not put Liz in that place."

"Mom changed her mind?"

"I had to be the strong one, for once. You know your mom is the rock in this family. I found my balls today. I guess you found yours last night, which is a hell of a lot better than finding them at forty-two."

"I guess so. Do you blame yourself for what happened?"

He shrugged, "How can I not?"

"You two were good parents," I said.

"Not good enough, obviously."

I had no idea what to say to that, but I realized that Liz wasn't the only one who was going to need counseling. My parents were. Heck, I probably was going to need some as well. I blamed myself for what happened to Liz.

"What about counseling?" I asked.

He nodded, "Already in the works. We'll be going to Columbus one night a week. And when she's healthy enough, we'll have sessions with Liz, too. If you need to talk to someone, the county's health insurance will cover it."

"Probably," I said. "I can't help but feel guilty."

"That's normal, Son."

"I hate to do this, but can I dump something on you?"

"If you feel you need to. I'm your dad, after all."

"I know. I usually go to Mom, but I think this one is for you."

"What?"

"I told you about Clark the night they moved him in. Well, I mentioned it to Emmy, and she nearly had kittens. She said her dad would lose his mind if he found out. When I tried to ask her about it, she insisted I stop talking about it because otherwise, he'd make her break up with me. I don't get it."

"Now I need another drink," my dad sighed, pouring more from the bottle on the table next to him.

"Sorry," I said.

He took a swig from the glass, "I've known Lenny and Agnes since I moved here. She's a real sweetheart, and your mom hung out with her some in Junior High. Then Agnes hooked up with Len and his buddies the Summer before your mom's Senior year. Your mom didn't like Lenny much, and she certainly didn't like his dad's politics. I suppose the simplest thing to say is she told me he had a 'George Wallace for President' sign in his yard."

"The segregationist?" I asked.

"You're smart, Mike. Put two and two together."

"The Klan," I breathed.

"The one and the same. Now, Lenny isn't a Klan member as far as I know because the federal government pretty much ran the Klan to ground here by the mid-70s. They were active at places like University of Akron, and there were problems in Cleveland and in Michigan. Anyway, Lenny adopted his dad's political leanings, much the same way I adopted my dad's. Lenny was never quite as extreme as his dad.

"But there were two incidents. The first one was around 1971 or so. A black family bought a house about a mile from where the Nelsons lived. They were harassed until they finally moved. Not with burning crosses or things like that, but with their house being egged, their cars keyed, dog poop left on the porch, that kind of thing. It was Lenny and his buddies who did that. A bunch of them got either tickets or misdemeanor charges, but nothing serious.

"The second one was similar. In 1974, the High School hired a black teacher. Lenny and his buddies flipped out and intimidated the school board into canceling the man's contract. Your mom and I spoke up for the man. You never knew about it because we didn't talk about it around you or Liz. There STILL isn't a minority teacher in the school district."

"But you let Liz spend time with Emmy and at their house."

"As I said, Agnes is a sweetheart, and Emmy is a good kid. Liz met her when she was six or seven, I guess, and your mom and I could tell Emmy was like her mom, not like her dad. How much would it help Emmy if we kept Liz away from her for that reason? Even after everything that happened, I think Emmy is a sweet girl. She did her best to help her friend and just didn't understand what was going on. Do you think she's a racist?"

"It didn't sound like she agreed with her dad, just that she was afraid of him, especially about this topic. It's funny, two of Clark's friends who are from Cleveland warned me about people like Mr. Nelson, and I was really surprised."

"You don't have the personality," Dad said, taking a swig from his glass. "But there are plenty of kids at your High School who have the same opinion."

"One of the guys, Carter, said racism had to be taught."

My dad nodded, "I think so, or at least it has to be absorbed from the environment."

"So what do I do?" I asked.

"Do you think Emmy should be punished for her dad's views?"

"Of course not!"

"Then just avoid the topic completely. How would he find out unless you or Emmy told him?"

"I guess he couldn't. I don't expect Mr. Nelson to come to McKinley. But what if I want to invite Clark here?"

"He's welcome. Just remember it might be the end for you and Emmy."

"That sucks," I said.

"Sometimes you have to do the right thing even when it hurts a lot."

"You're talking about Liz, aren't you?"

"Yes," my dad said, looking grim.

"I need to get going. You should probably put that bottle away and go to bed."

"Yeah, I probably should."

"Thanks for talking to me, Dad."

"I hope I did a credible job. Your mom was always better at talking to you."

"Maybe, but I think I need to learn to be a man. I realized the last few days I don't know how."

"You're a good boy, Mike. You'll learn. I'm not necessarily the best example."

"Don't sell yourself short, Dad. You've loved Mom and us, and you've provided a house, food, and clothing. And you came to every single event, even those chess matches that had to be boring as heck to watch."

"They were, but you were playing, and that was all that mattered."

"I'd say that right there made you a good dad, even if I never said it before."

"Go back to school, Mike. Make us all proud. Especially your sister."

"I will."

September 7, 1981, McKinley, Ohio

"I see you finally dragged your dead white ass back to school!" Clark said when I walked into the room.

"And your black ass is exactly where it was when I left!"

"I did get up to eat, use the shitter, and chase some slash!"

"If you're trying to provoke me, you're an amateur. My sister holds the championship medal for that one!"

"Mine too!" he laughed. "Sorry, I keep forgetting you don't assume I'm a lazy, good-for-nothing gang member."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Which time?" he asked.

"Want a Coke? I have some in my fridge."

"Don't mind if I do!"

I got two Cokes and sat down in one of the chairs in our room.

"So, what happened?"

"It started when I was thirteen. My dad and my uncle took me and my cousin to a Reds game. Great seats; loved watching those guys — Rose, Morgan, Bench, Foster, and Griffey. My cousin and I started talking to these really cute girls in the row in front of us. I mean, fine-looking specimens, at least as far as thirteen-year-olds go! The problem? They were white, and we were black. Their dad called the usher and complained we were being 'sexually suggestive' and had us kicked out. Man, I didn't even know what sex WAS at thirteen. Well, OK, not really, but you know what I mean. We were just talking to two cute girls who happened to be white.

"Then, when I was fifteen, there was a liquor store robbery about a mile from our house. A white dude owned the store. I was rousted by the cops, and he fingered me as the guy with the shotgun. At fifteen, I couldn't tell you which end of a gun was which! I'd never seen one except in the hands of white cops! I had an ironclad alibi — I was in school! But the cops didn't care. It took a week before they finally dropped the charges, despite having a teacher and the principal give statements. White cops. White store owner. Black teacher and black principal.

"After that, I was constantly rousted by white cops no matter what I did. I could be walking down the street minding my own business, and a squad car would pull over, and two white cops would jump out and start asking all kinds of questions. I couldn't even walk home from the grocery store with a bag without getting stopped to make sure I hadn't robbed the place. It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but at least once a week, some asshole cop would decide I was too black for whatever the situation was and harass me."

I shook my head, "I'm so clueless. I talked to my dad before I drove back and found out my girlfriend's grandfather was in the Klan. I had NO idea."

"Southern Ohio might as well be in the Confederacy. Well, at least parts of it. And Carter and Larry didn't have it nearly so bad up north in Cleveland."

"How did I miss all this?"

"A white, middle-class kid from a family that seems like they have their shit together? Easily. I don't blame you, man. You didn't do anything to me. And you were cool with me from the start. Carter gave me a ton of shit about my attitude towards you."

"Why?"

"He said if I piss all over white dudes who don't care about skin color, no white dudes are EVER going to treat me right."

"I think we both have a lot to learn. I'm willing if you are."

"What the fuck? What's the worst thing that can happen? I discover not all white folks are racist motherfuckers? I suppose I can live with that."

"You could have a friend," I suggested.

Clark laughed, "Now you're pushing your luck, Whitey!"

"So, when do we clip the teacher? And will you help me have sex with twelve girls?"

"If you think I'm letting you interfere with ME having sex with twelve girls, you're dumber than any cracker I ever met in my life!"

I held up my bottle of Coke. We clinked them together in a toast and drank.

September 11, 1981, McKinley, Ohio

"What are we doing tonight?" I asked.

"How about we fly to Vegas?" Nancy suggested. "We can go to one of those chapels where the preacher dresses like Elvis, get married, and fly back!"

"What?!"

"Jeez, Mike!" she laughed. "You look like you saw a ghost! I'm obviously teasing! I'm only seventeen!"

"Sorry," I chuckled. "You just sounded so serious when you said it."

"Uh-oh! Is sarcasm lost on you?"

"Given that this past week has shown me how utterly clueless I actually am? Probably."

"What happened? I noticed something was bugging you at work on Tuesday, but you didn't say anything, so I let it go."

"The biggest thing is that my little sister is having some serious problems. But I've received a full course in racism this week, too."

"You seemed pretty happy when I saw you on Thursday but still not quite yourself."

"That was because I'd heard from Jocelyn. She's home now, and I'll get to see her tomorrow. But the stuff with my sister is really weighing on me."

"Have you talked to someone? Like your pastor or whatever they have at your church?"

"No. Maybe I'll talk to the priest back home. I know my parents will have talked to him about my little sister."

"What happened?"

"I can't really talk about it. I promised my parents. So what do you want to do after dinner?"

"There is still nothing at the movies, and we already saw Twelfth Night. Why don't you decide? I promise I'll do anything you want and not complain."

I heard Jocelyn's voice in my head telling me to lighten up, and I felt I could joke a bit with Nancy without getting into too much trouble.

I chuckled, "Talk about risky statements!"

"Not really. I think I know you well enough you won't ask me to do anything out of line."

"You're sure about that?" I grinned.

"Positive."

"And you'll do anything I ask. With no complaints."

"Yes."

"Cool. After dinner, we'll go to my dorm and make love."

"OK."

"OK?" I gasped. "Seriously?"

"Were YOU serious?"

I chuckled, "No, of course not."

"And don't you think I knew that?"

"Sure. But you could have been horribly wrong!"

"And I still have my palm and knee. Not to mention, I have no intention of going up to your room with you."

"Oh."

"I do like teasing, so long as everyone knows it's teasing."

"I do have a serious question about that. How do I know when you AREN'T teasing?"

"You'll know," Nancy replied. "I promise. We're not there yet."

"Yet?"

"Isn't that always the expected destination? I mean, it might involve rings, a church, and a marriage certificate, but that is the destination. Otherwise, why date?"

"An interesting perspective," I said.

"You're being very careful with your words."

"On this topic? I think it pays to be. The last thing I want to do is upset you, and girls are VERY particular about how guys handle themselves. I don't think I need to remind you about the implied threat of palm and knee. In fact, it wasn't implied; it was a clear threat."

Nancy sighed, "Maybe I was a bit too forceful. You were teasing, and then you asked a serious question, and all I could see were the jocks. I'm sorry. You aren't anything like them, and I couldn't imagine needing to slap you or knee you."

"It's OK. I was out of line, really."

"No, you weren't! You even said sarcasm was lost on you, and I played it sarcastically to get a reaction out of you. I'm sorry."

"How about we rewind and start over?" I asked.

"Deal. So, what do you want to do?"

"Is there a football game?"

"Yes."

"If you want to go, I'll take you."

"Cool!"

September 12, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

"So, how does it feel to be home?" I asked.

"Good," Jocelyn said. "But I'm not allowed to use the stairs for quite some time. I have to sleep on the sleeper sofa."

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Let's just sit here and talk. Are you seeing Emmy tonight?"

"Yes, but not until 8:00pm. Your mom told me 7:00pm was the cutoff when I had to leave."

"The warden of this prison is strict," Jocelyn sighed. "But the doctor was adamant about me getting twelve hours of sleep. And I have physical therapy tomorrow morning at 9:00am."

"Wait, if you can't go upstairs, what about a shower?"

"Dad solved that this week. He had a plumber completely reconfigure the bathroom that's off the kitchen. It now has a tile floor and a handheld showerhead. I can sit on the closed toilet and shower. They had to tear up the floor to get the drain hooked into the basement, but it works."

"Cool. So, what's the scoop with the catheter? I thought everything was OK."

"Nerve-wise, it is. But the muscle damage was pretty extensive, and it hasn't completely healed, so I, uh, leak. They gave me the option of the catheter or what amounts to diapers. It's only a couple of weeks, and I do NOT want to wet myself like a baby. Not to mention that would mean my mom would have to help change my diapers."

"Uh, yeah, I think I'd opt for a catheter at that point, too."

"Don't worry, Mike. They said everything is healing properly. I may have a slight limp, but it won't be terrible. That's one thing the therapy is trying to prevent, but given how badly things were broken and the hardware they put in, it might not be possible to avoid."

"So, besides the physical therapist?"

"Once a week, I have to visit an orthopedist in Rutherford to check on things. But otherwise, I'm good. I'm not allowed to stand up by myself yet, and you can see the walker over there. My great-grandmother uses one and was teasing me about it."

I chuckled, "I bet. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. About the accident?"

"No, about me. Am I 'sarcasm challenged' or 'humor challenged'?"

Jocelyn laughed, "That's putting it mildly! Our little trio never really got into sarcasm or a lot of teasing. Mostly, that was because I shut you and Dale down hard when you were teasing about sex. So, in the end, there wasn't much of that, and who did you really hang out with except us? Dale and I are the same way, I'm sure. Remember, I didn't really tease you; I just explained what you needed to do."

"True."

"Why are you asking?"

"Nancy, that's the girl I've been going out with on Fridays, is really sarcastic, and I guess I got my nose a bit out of joint. You told me to lighten up, but it's not that easy."

"I think part of it is your naturally serious demeanor. It's been like that since we were little. In fact, I don't remember a time when you weren't like that. I'm kind of like that. Dale wasn't."

"No kidding! I mean, I did make some jokes with other people occasionally, but not all that much."

"Well, if she knows, she'll clue you in, and you can learn. I need to do the same thing, really. Oh! I forgot to ask — how is your sister?"

"I have no idea, really. All the clinic said was that she's 'on plan', whatever that means. We can't talk to her until some future date when they feel she's ready. And I have to talk to someone there on Monday at lunchtime and tell them what I know. I do not relish that."