23 - October 1974

If August 1974 was the time that Mrs. Johnson came to Erica’s aid and September was the month when Fitzie stood up for her (and against Mikey Langtree), then October ’74 was most definitely the month where I tried to be her knight in shining armor.

It all began at my thirteenth birthday party. My mother had enlisted a small troop of parents to plan an unforgettable party.

“What do you want to do at your party, dear?”

“Play baseball with the guys.”

“You’re not playing baseball at your thirteenth birthday. This is a once in a lifetime event.”

The way she spoke, it was as if she’d always wanted a daughter so she could throw elaborate parties. She invited my closest friends in addition to the entire 8^th grade class (including the kids I didn’t like). That led to siblings and friends of friends, and many of their parents. By the time she finished, she had to make a second set of arrangements just to accommodate the extra guests.

“I’ve hired a magician for your party.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I don’t like magicians.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, mom, I think they’re boring.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do.”

She arranged for a clown instead. When she told me, I was less than enthusiastic. I just wanted to hang out with the guys and play Wiffle Ball.

A variety of tables, big and small, were arranged haphazardly on the back lawn and a half circle of chairs marked the spot where the clown would perform.

Since Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Heinz had helped, Byron, Erica, and Lee were already there. Erica’s friend Barb was there. So, too, was Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

“Jake, can you help me set out the trays?”

“Trixie,” said my father, “let the boy be.”

“Alright, go have fun. I’ll see if Erica and her friend would like to help.”

The girls took over my helper duties and I was more than relieved. Meanwhile, there was still one thing we all wanted to know. Mrs. Heinz was the first to pose the question to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

“Where’s Andy?” asked Mrs. Heinz, “Is he at home?”

“Charlotte! Hush!” scolded Mrs. Johnson.

“It’s okay, Victoria. Andy’s staying with his father for the weekend.”

“How is that going?”

Mrs. Fitzpatrick let out a long, exasperated sigh. It had been common knowledge that ever since the Fitzpatricks split, it was a three-way tug-of-war between Andy and each of his parents. No matter who was bickering, Mrs. Fitzpatrick usually found herself at the losing end.

“Don’t worry,” said Mrs. Johnson, “it’ll get better. Just give it time.”

“I don’t know who is worse, Andy or Drew. Andy won’t co-operate at home and Drew isn’t any help since he moved out.”’

Tears welled up in Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s eyes as children gathered in our backyard. Mrs. Fitzpatrick only got worse when Mrs. Johnson tried to comfort her. They went to the master bedroom so Mrs. Fitzpatrick could get some privacy. Sometime later, Mrs. Johnson came out alone and sometime after that, Mrs. Fitzpatrick came out and slipped away when everyone else was out in the backyard. I didn’t see her or Andy for quite some time after that.

By that time, children had split off into their separate groups. Erica was with Barb and some of their friends on the patio, so I steered clear of that drama.

“Jacob, it’s time to open presents.”

I sat in a chair at center stage and opened presents. I received a whole host of things, including a set of lawn darts, a Hot Wheels track, and a brand new Dodger cap from mom. She made an announcement after I opened my gifts.

“Alright children, gather ‘round. It’s game time.”

Just like the clown, game time was one of those things that I really didn’t want at my party.

“First, we’ll break the Piñata,” announced my mother.

Everyone gathered around and excitement filled the air as children took turns waving a stick at a Paper Mache donkey.

 Kids started drifting off into smaller groups when my mom introduced a second game.

“Everyone take a balloon and blow it up. It doesn’t matter what color. If you need help, ask any one of the parents.”

Kids groaned and lost general interest. Still, the noise that erupted during the Piñata breaking had attracted unwanted attention.

“Nigger lovers!” came the shout from behind the row of Pine trees separating the Johnsons from the Langtrees. We knew, of course, the shout came from Todd, the youngest of the Langtree brothers.

We all stood in shock for a moment.

“Come on, children,” said Mrs. Heinz, “keep popping your balloons.”

A few of the children continued to play. However, most of the children were still in a state of shock as they looked to the stand of Pine trees.

The focus then changed from the Pine trees to the Johnsons, the only blacks at my party. Mrs. Johnson, however, would not be distracted by a few useless words.

“Byron! Erica! Come sit down!” ordered Mrs. Johnson. Erica started to join her, but when Byron shook his head no, she stared at her mother expectantly.

Erica stood between her mother and brother. She then looked to anyone for help..

My mother quickly got up and whispered to the clown. The clown nodded and they went inside. He stood next to her and waited while she filled out the check for his services.

 I ran to my bedroom and locked the door.

My mother and father both knocked on my door and ordered and then begged me to come out, but I’d have no part of it. As this dragged on, children began to leave. At first, it was parent-child pairs but quickly grew to small groups until my backyard was empty.

Byron and Lee stood outside my door.

“Come on out, Jake!”

“No!”

“Come on, it’s just us!”

I stood next to the door.

“Everybody left?” I whispered.

“Everyone but us and our parents.”

I slowly opened the door and peeked out. Indeed, it was the same handful of people who were there before the party started.

“Jake?” said my mother. She held a yellow Wiffle Ball bat in one hand and a Wiffle ball in the other as a peace offering.

“It’s okay…really.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too.”

“Play ball!” said dad.

“Hold on one second,” I said.

I fetched my baseball cap, in faded Dodger blue, and pulled it tightly over my head. Then, I ran out to the backyard and played baseball with the guys as the parents sat on the patio and watched. Then, Erica and Barb joined and we all played as Mr. Johnson manned the grill,.

“Who’s hungry?”

We were all hungry.

“What does everyone want on their hot dogs?”

Mr. Johnson, Mr. Heinz, and my father formed a hot dog assembly line, cooking everything to order. We took a break just long enough to eat and then returned to baseball. This time, though, the parents joined in and played against the children. Funny thing was, it was obvious that all the parents were just playing.

Well, all the parents were playing except one.

Mr. Johnson competed.

He hopped fences with a single hand and shagged flies off the roof, sometimes reaching up to make sure they didn’t get caught in the gutter, because a ball caught in the gutter was a foul ball and not an out.

That, however, wasn’t the worst of it.

Lee hit a grounder towards third where my father grabbed it. My father threw it to Mr. Johnson. Mr. Johnson called “Out!” and Lee called “Safe!”

Lee stood at first.

“You’re out,” said Mr. Johnson.

“I am?”

Mr. Johnson nodded. Lee glanced around.

“Runners get the tie,” said Mr. Heinz.

“But it wasn’t a tie. I clearly said “out!” first.

“Come on, Robert,” said Mrs. Johnson.

“What?”

“Robert…”

Mr. Johnson pursed his lips as he stared at his wife. Then, he motioned Lee to head back to first base.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you, Lee. It must’ve been a tie.”

We played until we could hardly see the ball. Then, we sat on the patio as it got colder and darker.

“I’m going inside,” said my mother.

The women joined her, which meant the girls joined them, too. Our fathers, however, stayed outside, drank, and enjoyed each other’s company. We stayed outside with our fathers.

“We don’t have to stop playing just because the girls don’t want to play.”

“Yeah,” said my father.

We tried playing for a short bit, but it was too dark to see the Wiffle Ball. However, my father had another genius idea.

“What other games did you get for your birthday?”

I shrugged.

He sorted through the gifts until he came upon a long rectangular cardboard box that said ‘Jarts’ on the outside.

“Why don’t we play Jarts?”

For the uninformed, a Jart was more literally a form of giant lawn dart with a plastic shaft approximately ten inches long with a three-piece spinner fin ad one end and a heavy metal point at the other. Players placed two plastic rings at separate ends of the lawn and teams of two stood beside one of the rings, horseshoes-style, and tossed the Jarts towards the other ring. There were six of us, so there were two teams and two extras.

“Jake, you’re the birthday boy, so you can play on my team,” said Mr. Johnson.

“What about us?” asked Lee.

“You and Byron can be the team captains.”

“Great! What do we do?”

“You can provide the lighting. Craig, do you have flashlights?”

My father fished around in the garage and returned with only one.

“What do we do now?”

“You’ll have to stand in the middle of the yard and take turns directing the light.”

So Byron and Lee picked a spot halfway between the two Jart rings and stood there. We tossed the Jarts back and forth for about twenty minutes until Mrs. Johnson came outside to check on us.

“Robert! What the hell?”

“What?”

“You’re throwing darts around the kids!”

“It’s okay, we’re being safe.”

“Are you men drunk or just idiots? Byron! Lee! Come here at once! You, too, Jake!”

All of us on the back lawn immediately obeyed Mrs. Johnson. By the time we got to the screen door, all the women were looking out the back window.

“I guess it’s time to call it a night,” said my mom. Everyone agreed and we parted ways. Nobody got hurt, so the party ended on a pretty good note. I helped mom collect my gifts and piled them on the kitchen table before heading to bed.

She was already cleaning the backyard by the time anyone else got out of bed the next morning. I rose late, but still in time to help, if even just to haul the trash bags to the side of of the house. My father rose soon after that and we ate pancakes together.

“I’m sorry about your party.”

“It was fun.”

“You didn’t want a clown…or a magician…or a piñata.”

“I had a good time.”

“Trix,” interrupted my father, “if you’d just planned a baseball game, how would it have been different from every other summer day? We had an angry clown, children making a fuss, and parents playing Wiffle Ball. If things always turned out perfectly, what kind of life would that be? We had a good time.”

The smallest of smiles emerged from my mother’s lips as my father took a bite of his pancakes and gave her a wink.

“We had a great time, didn’t we?”

My father and I nodded in agreement and that was good enough for my mother. She cleared the plates and life in the Jolley house went back to life as usual.

On Monday, the trauma of having clowns and piñatas and childish games at thirteenth birthday party was far behind me. A few of the kids said they were upset that they didn’t play ‘pop the balloon’. Some of the kids who left early said they’d had a good time and wished they hadn’t caved in to their friends. By the time I started home, I’d forgotten about the weekend completely – except for the part where Erica ignored me.

I decided to fix it by staying behind at the middle school until Erica got out of class. When I did, however, she was less than enthusiastic about seeing me.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied.

Then, there was silence.

“I’ve gotta catch my bus,” said Barb.

“I’ll wait with you,” said Erica.

I watched as Erica pulled her books to her chest and turned her back to me. I stood outside the Home Economics class where I ran into Erica as a parade of other kids passed me by; they were all headed towards the busses, too. I waited for a short while. Then, I just turned around and walked the other way, because Erica did not even turn around and look my direction – and that was that.

I went to Byron’s house and pitched the baseball to him until my arm was tired. Then, I fed baseballs into the Jugs machine while he practiced his catching.

“Jake?” called Mrs. Johnson, “would you like to eat dinner with us?”

“Sure!”

I made the necessary call home, but when it was time for dinner, Erica wasn’t there. She came home while I was in the backyard with Byron.

That night, she ate dinner at Barb’s house.

I came straight home after school the next day. Maybe that was the day I should’ve waited for Erica.

She started home alone (as she always did), only to run into Todd Langtree and his friends. They rode, as a pack of snot-nosed kids on tricked-out BMX bikes.

“Come on!” he shouted, “Let’s get her!”

Todd’s bravado had increased ten-fold without Byron or any of us to protect Erica.

At first, they gained on her, but the fact she was on foot and they had their bikes ended up working in her favor as she crossed the footbridge that passed over a small ravine near her house.

For four nights in a row, Todd and his friends chased Erica through the woods after school, only to lose her at the footbridge. For for nights, she also refused to tell anyone about Todd and his friends. She was resolved to fight her own battles. Luckily, the fifth day started a long weekend.

However, by the time the next Monday rolled around, Erica had completely forgotten about the past week. Todd had not.

While he and his friends chased her through the maze of mobile homes that sat halfway between the middle school and her house, a pair of boys went directly to the footbridge.

“We’ve got her now!” shouted one of the boys.

She threw her schoolbooks down and cut between two houses near the ravine and hopped a fence. The boys swarmed the side yard as Erica climbed the fence. Todd snagged her schoolbooks as Erica hopped the fence and began banging on the front door of the stranger’s house.

When nobody answered, she began running again, sneaking through backyards and hiding behind bushes until she found her way home.

“What happened to you?” said her mother.

“Nothing…”

“Were you playing baseball in that brand new dress?”

Erica’s little green dress suit was stained with mud and grass. Mrs. Johnson went over and looked Erica up and down.

“Change into play clothes and bring that dress back to me immediately so I can rub some detergent into those stains. Go on…right now.”

Erica scampered to her room and changed. Before she could return, she was in tears.

“Come on, Erica, I don’t want those stains to set. They’ll never come out.”

Erica opened her bedroom door the slightest bit before handing the little green dress to her mother through the gap. Her mother, however, placed a foot against the door and pried it open.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you all teary eyed?”

“Please, mommy.”

Mrs. Johnson slowly opened the door and sat next to her daughter, who was curled in bed.

“Todd Langtree and his friends chased me home.”

Mrs. Johnson patted her daughter on the head and silently walked through the house to the back door. She stood there for a moment, watching the guys play Wiffle Ball.

The thought of talking to either of Todd’s parents wheeled through her mind. She knew that would be useless. Mr. Langtree was a drunken slob and Mrs. Langtree was self-righteous pain in the ass. She wasn’t about to talk to Robert about it, either. Her solution came another way as she walked

“Byron,” she called out as she approached us, “can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.”

 “I need you to look after Erica for a little while.”

“Like babysitting?”

Mrs. Johnson shook her head, “more like walking her home from school.”

“I’ve got responsibilities after school.”

“She’ll just have to wait.”

“I could help,” I offered.

“I don’t think so, Jake.”

“Maybe I could take her home when Byron’s busy.”

“Okay, you can walk her home when Byron’s busy at the high school.”

The next morning, I went to school as usual. Erica, however, was running late. To save time, she rode her bike. All of the horrors of the previous week hit her immediately when she approached the bike rack at school.

She spent the whole day thinking about the trip home, even though she knew I would be there for her. Still, the thought of Todd’s friends made her sick to her stomach. Just after lunch, she stopped at the nurse’s office. When the nurse spoke to Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson confided in the nurse and told her that Erica would just have to ‘tough it out’ until the end of school.

I met her outside the cafeteria, where she had her last class: study hall. When I walked her to her out to the bike rack, she remained as aloof as she had been a week before.

“I can walk beside you,” I said.

“Thanks.”

Todd and his friends left us alone as I walked her home. They left us alone for the next few weeks until Todd enlisted the help of his brother Mikey.

“Hey, turds,” said Mikey. He was seated on Erica’s bike, even though it was still locked to the rack.

“Get up,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Mikey.”

Mikey just shook his head. Todd stepped towards me and Mikey nodded. Todd let loose with a weak punch. Mikey looked me over before nodding to one of his friends. Mikey grabbed me by the head and one of his friends grabbed me by the legs. They stretched me out on the concrete.

“Get him, Todd.”

Todd leaned down and punched me in the arm. It didn’t hurt one bit.

“Again!”

Todd began punching me in the ribs as Mikey and his friends pinned me down. Then, Mikey began scraping my head back and forth on the concrete.

“Let him go!” shrieked Erica. One of the boys pushed her to the ground. After that, I didn’t see what happened to her. I was busy fighting off Mikey and his friends.

A crowd of kids gathered, soon followed by Mr. Miller, the gym teacher. By the time he came over, my nose had bled all over my shirt. He took me to the nurse’s office to stop the nosebleed.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“Todd Langtree’s been chasing Erica home from school.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll take care of it.”

Mr. Miller made the call to the Johnson house and informed Mrs. Johnson of the afternoon’s excitement. Then, he loaded Erica’s bike into the back of his station wagon and took us home.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’ll be fine.”

Mr. Miller spoke at length with Mrs. Johnson as I sat out on the back porch with Erica.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded.

“Todd got a lot of hits in on you.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t hurt.”

Truth was, even though he’d punched me quite a bit and my nose had bled, it had bled for no reason at all – probably just excitement and nerves. Still, I got scraped up pretty bad. That earned me bonus points with the entire Johnson family, especially Mrs. Johnson.

She came out a little later with a hot washcloth in hand. She wiped the dried blood from my nose and elbows.

“This shirt’s a mess,” she said, “go to Byron’s room and put a fresh shirt on.”

I shook my head. It was one of my Dodgers’ tees.

“Suit yourself, you look a mess.”

I thanked her and then went home. By the time I arrived at home, Mr. Miller had already briefed my mother.

“Give me that shirt,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll save it. Go clean up before your father gets home.”

A knock came at the bathroom door soon after I got into the shower.

“What is it?” I shouted.

“Hurry up, Erica’s gone to the hospital.”

I cut my shower short and immediately got dressed. Mrs. Johnson was sitting in the waiting room when we arrived at the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. She had trouble breathing so I brought her here.”

 It turned out that symptoms of Erica’s Acute Chest Syndrome had lingered after she’d been allowed to leave the hospital. Tiny fibroid tears were forming along the lining of her aorta, disturbing her heartbeat and breathing. In addition to the rigorous exercise she’d gotten from being chased, the added stresses were piling up, too. Finally, the doctors readmitted Erica to the Intensive Care Unit.

There would be a repeat of all the same old blood tests and medicinal cocktails. It was back to business as usual for Erica.

Meanwhile, the 1974 World Series had already gotten underway. It was my L.A. Dodgers versus the two-time world champion Oakland A’s. The A’s won game one on Saturday, and the Dodgers won game two. With all the commotion, I’d forgotten all about that night’s game.

Erica, however, did not.

It was the first time I visited Erica in the hospital. I went with Byron. Since I was underage and not one of Erica’s relatives, Mrs. Johnson had to escort us to her room.

It was a scary and new for me, since tubes were fed into both of Erica’s arms and an oxygen mask covered her face. Still, she was glad to have us there.

“Hi!” she wheezed.

“Hey,” said Byron. His voice was low and soothing.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, “but aren’t you missing the Dodgers? We can watch the game if you want.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“But it’s the World Series.”

“I swear I’m okay.”

Erica grabbed the remote and turned on the game anyway. None of us talked very much as we rooted for the Dodgers that night. Unfortunately, the Dodgers would lose that game. They’d end up losing the Series, too.

That didn’t really matter to me. I don’t even remember that World Series at all. I do remember, however, how we hovered over Byron’s little sister, helping to keep her spirits up. Funny thing was, she didn’t need the help at all – but it sure seemed like the rest of us did.

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