30 - July 11, 1977

Fitzie, Lee, and me: we sat one-two-three on the dugout bench waiting for practice to begin. The weather was hot and sticky. In fact, it was so hot and sticky it felt like we were in the Deep South. The only thing setting it apart was the frequent gusts of wind. Dust blew up from the ground and got into our eyes, almost as if to spite our being there. All in all, it was a crappy day. Still, it was a perfect day for baseball.

Fitzie bent forward and peered past Lee. He looked me over, sideways, up, and down with a knowing look on his face.

“You know the difference between a game of kissy-face and pussy-footing around right?”

I shook my head.

“If you don’t know, I ain’t gonna tell you.”

“Maybe Coach Klein will tell you in Health Class,” added Lee.

“Shut up, you guys.”

They continued poking fun at me while we sat in the dugout, waiting for Coach Klein. Byron was leaning against the dugout wall with his arms crossed and his gaze fixed down upon me. He just stood there, quietly taking it all in. He looked just like his father used to when he coached us in the Babe Ruth League at Tall Oaks.

What both Fitzie and Lee were referring to (and Byron was simmering about) was the night before, when Coach Klein caught me fooling around with Byron’s little sister.

While the boys’ traveling team practiced on one diamond, the girls’ softball team practiced on the other. During the week following the Fourth of July, Erica and I managed to carve out more and more time to be together. It started with a late Friday, where we met up at the Swim Club and shared the blanket that separated the guys and me from her and the girls.

“How was practice?” she asked.

“You know, same ole same ole.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “kind of boring.”

“Not boring, just practice, you know.”

“You want to go to the Game Room or play basketball?”

I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

“I feel like I’m boring you.”

“No, no, not at all.”

It was funny, because our conversations never got anywhere up to that point. We were still fumbling around with our words. All of our teenage angst only made it worse.

“The Fourth was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was good.”

We sat again, our conversation was a collection of silences waiting to be interrupted with some sort of sound – any sound, really.

“You want a soda?”

“I’m not really thirsty.”

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head and we sat in silence. It was okay, though. We filled the awkwardness by moving closer to one another physically. One or the other would get up and do something with our group of friends. Then, we’d return to the blanket and sit closer to each other than the time before. This continued until 10 o’clock, when the last announcement came across the P.A. system.

“Attention Swim Club members and their guests, we’re glad you could join us for a fun-filled day of swimming and other activities at Mt. Adams’ premier swimming area.. It is now 10 P.M. and the pool is closed. We invite you to return tomorrow when we will be open at 7 o’clock sharp. Until then, take care and happy trails to you.”

Everyone filtered out through the front gates while our group of friends waited just outside near the bike racks. After approximately ten minutes, we were ushered back inside by Fitzie and his friends.

We returned to our same area near the diving area and sat with our friends. When someone set up the volleyball net in the shallow area of the pool, we all jumped in. The boys played against the girls for awhile. Then the game fizzled as people lost interest one-by-one. Finally, both Erica and I decided to jump out, too.

“Want to go play basketball?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Come on, I bet I can beat you in a game of one-on-one.”

“Ha! I seriously doubt that.”

We grabbed a basketball from the front desk and ran over to the court. We had the whole area all to ourselves.

There were no overhead lights for the basketball court, only the mercury-tinted security lights near the Game Room and the bright overhead lights that surrounded the Diving Area. Unfortunately, a pair of giant oak trees stood between the pool and the courts. This left the court covered in shadows.

We played for a bit, but the low light made it too hard to enjoy playing basketball. Instead, we sat at the bench parked at the end of the kiddie pool.

Erica sat right next to me, her leg pressed against mine. He skin was cold and clammy, covered in goose bumps. Her teeth chattered as I wrapped my beach towel around the two of us.

“I can’t believe I’m still cold,” she said.

“Me neither.”

She pressed her lips against mine and locked herself to me. Her big brown eyes were fixed on mine as we stared at each other. It was a strange little kiss that lasted and lasted until we heard Barb’s voice from the Game Room. We immediately separated and did not say another thing to each other for the remainder of the night.

The next morning, I was over at Byron’s bright and early. I rotated turns at the Jugs machine with Erica, while Byron crouched behind home plate the entire time.

“Why don’t you run the machine?” said Erica.

“I don’t have to, you or Jake can do it.”

“You’re hogging it.”

“Dad got the Jugs machine for me, just like when he first practiced catching with me when you weren’t even interested in baseball.”

“It’s selfish,” said Erica.

She fed the last of the tennis balls into the hopper and returned to the porch. I followed her to the picnic bench.

“Jake, why don’t you work the Jugs machine for a bit?”

I shrugged.

“I think I’m going to the roller rink this afternoon before practice,” said Erica, “Does anyone want to go with me?”

When she said ‘anyone’, she only meant me. She did it mostly to dig at her older brother’s nerves. It left me in middle ground, having to choose between one sibling and the other.

“Jake? Do you like roller skating?”

I glanced over at her.

“Well, do you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I like it.”

“Then maybe you and I should go together this afternoon. What do you say?”

“Okay.”

“Then it’s a date.”

I went home for lunch and returned a little while later. When I rang the doorbell and Byron answered, he didn’t even get halfway to the door before calling out to his sister.

“Erica! Get the door.”

She ran up and greeted me with a bear hug. I must admit, I was a little embarrassed.

“Your face is beet red,” she said, “you ready to go?”

I nodded.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

She turned towards the interior of the hosue and gave a parting shot.

“Mom, Jake and I are going to Skatetown and afterwards I have practice. I won’t be back until later!”

“Okay, dear, be safe!”

Skatetown was empty for most of the afternoon, so we practically had the whole rink to ourselves. It was even funnier when the DJ put on a little Wild Cherry with “Play that Fujnky Music” and announced over the microphone in his low, husky voice, “Now it’s ‘All Skate Backwards’.”

We switched directions, skating counter-clockwise for the next song. It seemed sort of stupid, since there were just four of us on the floor. While Erica skated footloose and fancy free, I struggled to keep a steady pace.

It was me and Erica and an old couple who also performed in the roller disco competitions all the time. His name was Roy, but I don’t recall hers. Roy watched me skate and came up to help.

“Consider each skate like a blade. You want to push off on one and slide on the other, sort of like a herringbone pattern.”

I followed his advice. My skating stroke improved slowly, but surely.

“Don’t talk to him,” said Erica, “nobody here really likes him. He’s a bit of a showoff.”

“He’s nice enough to me.”

“That’s because he wants to act important.”

“Okay,” I said. I really didn’t get why she was so bothered by Roy, but I left it alone, ignoring him fro the remainder of the afternoon.

We biked up to the high school diamonds when it was time for practice. When that ended, we carried on where we left off, spending all our time together.

 That night we began sneaking onto school buses for some alone time. We’d also taken more risks, peeling clothes off of one another and getting more and more intimate. At some point, it would have to fall apart.

On our last night sneaking around together, we snuck onto one of the busses just as we always had. This time, however, we’d gotten too comfortable in our new spot and took fewer precautions. We quit scouting out the area. We quit picking the bus farthest from prying eyes. We also quit closing the bus doors so nobody could tell we were there.

About an hour after we snuck onto the bus, Coach Klein emerged from his office at the end of a long day. He cut through the parking lot on the way to his car when he overheard noises coming from our bus.

He carefully circled around behind the bus and peered through the emergency door. He plainly saw two half-clothed teenagers in the back seat, making out. When he knocked on the window, it took us by complete surprise.

Shirts and pants flew around as we rushed to get dressed. Meanwhile, Coach Klein walked to the front of the bus and climbed to the top step.

“Hello?” he called out.

We froze in place, crouched between the seats. A hot, white beam shot from his flashlight and lit the back half of the bus. Coach Klein waited until our heads popped over the edge of the green leather seat back. Then, his voice filled the bus just as the light did. Surprisingly, it was calm and clear.

“Is that you, Jake?”

I nodded.

“And is that Erica Johnson?”

“Yessir.”

“Alright, when you two finish getting dressed, come on outside.”

Coach Klein stepped off the bus and waited for us. We spoke in hushed tones as we got dressed.

“What do you think he’ll do?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Do you think we’re in trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s your coach. What do you think he’ll do?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be quiet.”

We slowly walked toward the front of the bus. Our heads hung low as we faced Coach Klein. Neither of us made eye contact with him as he spoke.

“I’d ask you what you were doing, but that’s pretty obvious. The bigger question is why did you think it was okay to do it here?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Well,” he sighed, “I don’t know either. You’ve put me in a tough situation, kids; especially you, Jake. Even though it’s summer, I’m still your coach and I’m responsible for you from the moment you arrive on school grounds until you leave at night.”

“Are we in trouble?” asked Erica.

“You two get on home and let me think about that. I’ll talk to both of you tomorrow.”

The next day, I was anxious to receive that call. When it never came, I headed to practice. I sat on the bench between Lee and Fitzie, waiting to find out what would happen to me.

“Jake!” called out Coach Klein.

Coach Klein motioned me behind the row of bleachers, just out of range of the rest of the team, although I was still in full view of everyone.

“I talked to Principal Hoffman and he’s called both your parents.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Well, yes and no. Since school’s out, there’s nothing we can really do other than ban you from the team and I’m not doing that. So, I just called your parents.”

“Oh.”

Honestly, I would’ve preferred to get in trouble with the school. I wasn’t so worried about my parents as I was worried about Erica’s father.

“If you want, you can go home right now.”

“I think I should. It’s better to get it over with anyway.”

“Don’t worry, I know your dad, you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about my dad.”

Coach Klein patted me on the back. My head was spinning with all the things that could possibly happen the next time I saw Erica or her father.

I imagined Mr. Johnson would…well, I really didn’t know what to imagine. Whether he was angry or happy, there was still a certain veneer to his outlook and attitude. Back then, I saw him as this emotionless and uncaring authority figure.

“Hello,” I announced to my house as I dropped my baseball gear on the living room couch. Nobody was home. However, there was a note on the kitchen table.

“Jake – stay here until we get home – Dad.”

I fixed myself a sandwich and cherry punch and headed to the back porch. As I glanced across Mrs. Larinov’s back yard, she was there, tending to her flowerpots. Erica was sitting on the picnic bench in her backyard reading a book. Both women were oblivious to my presence, so I cleared my throat to get their attention. Mrs. Larinov looked up first.

“Why hello, Jacob! How are you doing this afternoon?”

“I’m okay, I guess.”

“Just okay? It’s a perfect Summer day. You should be having fun.”

“I know, but there are things going on…”

“Don’t worry, it’ll all work out in the end. It always does.”

Mrs. Larinov returned to her garden as I returned to the porch and sat down. Erica and I locked eyes momentarily. Mrs. Larinov glanced up and smiled. Then, she just returned to her work. It wasn’t long until I heard my father’s car pull up in our driveway. I went inside to receive my punishment.

“Jake, I don’t know what to say. Don’t you care for her?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why did you disrespect her like that?”

“I didn’t think I…”

“No, you didn’t think. Although she’s a young girl, she’s also a lady and you have to treat her like one, no matter what.”

“I know.”

“No matter what. I think it would be a good idea if you apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, too.”

I nodded as my shoulders slumped; I was crest-fallen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side.”

It was supposed to be encouraging, but I didn’t know if I wanted to face that many adults at that time. It only got worse as we approached their front door. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were waiting for me. Mr. Johnson held the screen door open as he greeted me.

“Come in, Mr. Jolley”

Mr. Johnson, of course, was referring to me and not my father. However, my father’s guiding hand led me to the living room couch. He sat to one side while Mr. Johnson sat on the other. Meanwhile, Erica was seated on Mr. Johnson’s recliner while Mrs. Johnson stood behind her.

Mr. Johnson let go of a heavy sigh as he shook his head at me disapprovingly. Then, he took another deep breath.

“Jacob, you are a young man. You know this right?”

I nodded.

“Along with that title there come a lot of new responsibilities. Among them come the courting rituals of the young adult.”

I nodded, still not sure what he was getting at.

“Unfortunately, you’re still a child and my daughter is still a child, too. You should be saving your expressions of deeper love for when you’re married and not a moment sooner. Anything less than that means you’re disrespecting Erica which means you’re disrespecting her mother and me, too. Do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

Truly, I never felt like I disrespected Erica at all. We were curious and young. Neither of us owned a car, so there was only a limited number of places we could be alone. When we found the school busses, we’d hit the jackpot. Every day after school, we managed to sneak some alone time. In fact, it would’ve been lots worse had Coach Klein been a minute later.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Erica.”

“I’m sorry.”

The living room fell silent as Erica simply nodded. After a few moments of additional silence, Mr. Johnson sent me and my father away.

Again, I wasn’t punished at all compared to Erica. My mother and father let my guilt be my guide. Erica was confined to her room and I wasn’t allowed to visit the Johnson house. I neither saw nor heard from her during the following week. When I did, the two of us were sitting in our respective backyards and that was only when Mr. Johnson wasn’t home.

Late one evening while I played Wiffle Ball in the backyard with Fitzie, Lee, and Byron, Mrs. Johnson came out back.

“Byron, come home quick.”

He dropped his bat and hurried over to his house while the rest of us followed along behind. Erica was laying on the living room floor, her hands clenched at her chest. Meanwhile, Mrs. Johnson hovered over her.

“Mom, is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep a lookout for the ambulance.”

Mr. Johnson’s car pulled into the drive and he rushed to Erica’s side, too, and he was only moments ahead of the ambulance. The paramedics came in and carried Erica away.

“Do you want me to go with her or you?”

“I’ll go,” said Mr. Johnson, “you take the boys.”

“Jake, you go tell your parents. Anyone else who wants to go has to call their parents first.

“Do you want me to take you?” asked my mom.

“Nah, Mrs. Johnson’s taking us.”

“Send my regards and I’ll come a little later with your father.”

I rushed back to the Johnson’s house and away we went. Erica was already in the Emergency Room by the time we arrived. We stopped in the waiting room while Erica was carted to the Cardiology unit. I paced back and forth through the waiting room. Then, I did laps around the first floor, moving from the gift shop to the information desk to the waiting area, cutting between the people sitting in chairs watching television while they passed the time.

“Jake, come here a moment,” called my mother.

“Yeah?”

“Just have a seat.”

“I’m too nervous.”

“I know, but you’re making me nervous, too. “

I sat down for a while, but was still full of nervous energy. I enlisted the help of Fitzie to help pass the time, but Byron and Lee joined, too. The four of us headed down to the cafeteria. It was just after midnight, so the steel doors that led to the serving area were shut tight. The only food available came from the wide array of food service machines. We grabbed frozen pizzas and nuked them in the brand new microwave ovens.

“Are these safe?” I asked, referring to the row of brand new microwaves situated near the vending machines. Up to that point, nobody owned personal microwaves. In fact, they were something of a mystery, just like a holistic approach to treating Sickle Cell.

“Of course they’re safe, it’s a hospital.”

And, of course, with all of Byron’s forethought, he was right and that, as always, was Byron’s way.

The four of us remained in the cafeteria for another hour or so, wiling away the time; we knew that when we returned to the waiting room, we’d be returning to bad news.  

.The usual run of tests were thrown aside as doctors tended to Erica’s imminent needs: she was stroking out.

The left side of her face twitched uncontrollably. Her left hand cramped into an unusable hook. Her tongue rolled around inside her mouth, just out of reach of her chomping teeth.

The doctors put a bite guard in first. Then, they restrained her while they inserted a needle and intubated her. A dose of fluids and a fresh supply of blood eased her pains, but it did not stop the interactions between the heart-shaped blood cells and her arteries. Organs were starving and the only way they knew how to cope was to shut down, one-by-one.

The elevator bell rang and my father emerged from its opening doors.

“Byron, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Byron got up from his seat as we all fell silent. My father propped his left arm on Byron’s shoulder as they spoke. Mostly, my father talked and Byron just nodded. After a few tense moments, my father approached our cafeteria table.

“Erica’s in critical condition and the doctors are moving her into surgery. She’s going to be here all night, so I talked with Mr. Johnson. I’m going to take you kids home.”

We all followed my dad to the elevator and took it to the first floor. Byron spoke with his mother and we all said our good-byes before heading home. Byron went with us.

My father turned on the radio. The Reds game was on and we listened for a little while. Then, Byron spun the volume button to the left, snapping off the power. Nobody interrupted him. We just sat and listened to the traffic passing us by as we made the rounds through Mt. Adams before stopping at home.

“Oh, hello, dear, dear child,” said my mother as she greeted us at the front door. She took Byron under her wings and led him to the kitchen.

“I made a pot of chili and some cornbread, if you’d like.”

Byron just shook his head and returned to the living room. My father sat in his recliner, but didn’t even turn on the television. He just opened that morning’s Cincy Enquirer and began reading. Byron flicked off his shoes and spread himself out on the couch. I sat on the carpet at the far end, near his feet. When I heard him begin to snore, I just headed upstairs as mom draped a quilt over his body.

Instead of going to bed, I passed time the only way I could whenever too many thoughts swam through my head: I took a long, hot shower.

I stood there, leaning my hands against the tile walls and staring down at the drain.

The greasy old pizza churned in my stomach with a glass of orange juice, a cup of coffee, a cup of milk, and a handful of potato chips I’d stolen from Lee when we were sitting in the hospital cafeteria.

That odd cocktail of breakfast drinks, mixed with salty potato chips and microwave pizza, could’ve, maybe even would’ve stayed put had I not had so much spinning around my head at the same time.

The thought of Erica in the hospital was driving me nuts. The last time I saw her, she was absolutely fine. In fact, she was nearly perfect, sitting at the picnic table as she had done a hundred times before, perfectly calm, perfectly ordinary.

I’d been through it before, as had all of us. This time, though, it was different. Byron was different. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were different, too. Not one of them cried. Not one. Mr. Johnson’s lower lip, though.

It did something it had never even hinted at doing before. As we watched Byron say goodbye to him, Mr. Johnson’s mouth opened just the slightest bit. Then, that lower lip went slack. It quivered like a bowl of cherry-flavored hospital Jell-O, unable to stop under its own power. Mr. Johnson put his right hand to his face and pressed it against that jaw, forcing it to stop. My father just shooed us towards the exit and advised us not to look back.

But I looked back.

A violent stew of anxiety and stomach acids collided. A clump of frozen pizza shot up through my esophagus and out through my mouth. It landed in a liquid heap at my feet and gathered at the bathtub drain. I stood there for a moment, hoping it would go down. That wasn’t going to happen at all.

I kneeled down, still naked, and scooped the vomit in my hand and flung it into the toilet. With a fast flush, all of that mess was washed away.

At least something was going right for once.

.