After Life (4 page)

It felt so warm, he thought the man was feverish.

Pick it up there, Dyes, Henry Young coached. This isn't a Sunday-school

picnic. He laughed and started away. Lee turned back to game.

Dyes took the ball and began dribbling awkwardly down the court. The

boy guarding him charged forward, stabbing at the ball. Dyes turned his

back and tried to dribble in another direction, but the boy shot to his

right quickly to block him. The other members of Dyes's team were

shouting at him to pass. He stopped dribbling and searched frantically

for an open member of the squad. The boy guarding him was all over him,

waving his arms frantically. Lee thought he was doing a very good job

and started to make note of him on his tablet when suddenly Dyes snapped

the ball directly at the boy's face. It struck him smack at the bridge

of his nose and sent him backward, sitting him down sharply on his ass.

Blood spurted from his nostrils. Instantly a number of his fellow

teammates began to laugh. What the hell Lee ran out to the middle of

the court. As he did so he could see Henry Young standing in the gym

doorway, What the hell did you do that for, Dyes? Lee cried.

I was just trying' to pass, Coach, and he got in the way, Dyes said,

making a weak attempt at denial.

Like hell he did, Lee said, kneeling beside the stunned boy. He

examined his nose bone quickly. It's not broken. Go into the locker

room and get some tissues Hold them tight with your head back Gilmore,

Lee ordered, go with him and help.

Aw, Coach, let him go to the school nurse.

Lee looked toward the doorway and saw that the principal had left

without even checking to see if the boy was seriously injured.

The nurse is gone for the day, Lee said.

So? Gilmore said sullenly. It's just a damn bloody nose.

He's a member of your team, Lee said, helping the boy to his feet, and

you're supposed to be the captain.

Know what that means?

Means shit, Gilmore mumbled.

What was that?

Nothing', the boy said sullenly. come on asshole.

Next time learn to duck.

Lee watched them go off. Then he turned to Dyes.

This sort of stuff doesn't go with me, Dyes. It's a cheap shot. Take

ten laps.

Huh?

You heard me, run around the gym ten times, he ordered.

He does that, Coach, Benson said, and he'll drop dead. Everyone smiled;

Hodes laughed.

If he can't do that, he can't be on my team, Lee said. That goes for

everyone here, he added, spinning on them sharply. Some still held

their smiles. Physical conditioning is essential. I don't even want to

hear about any of you smoking, understand. Starting tomorrow, we begin

each practice with twenty laps and we finish with twenty.

There was a chorus of groans.

Dyes?

The overweight boy looked ready to lunge at him. He turned toward Hodes

and Lee thought he saw a slight nod. Then Dyes lowered his head and

started to run, mumbling obscenities under his breath. All right, Lee

said, releasing his breath. Back to the scrimmage. So far I haven't

seen anything to lead me to believe you guys have a chance to beat the

girls' team in my last school. Hodes, take it out.

Lee returned to his bench and watched. Dyes ran with his arms against

his sides as if he had to hold in his stomach, but Lee noticed he had

his middle finger on both hands extended in silent, profane defiance.

The other boys noticed, too, and some smiled.

Gilmore returned and took his position, the injured boy behind him

walking with tissues in his nose.

You okay? Lee asked him. The boy nodded. When Dyes ran by, he glared

at him hatefully and the boy cowered and retreated to another, more

out-of-the-way place on the bench. The scrimmage continued until Lee

saw Hodes jab his elbow into another boy's face causing him to bleed at

the mouth. Lee blew his whistle and called them to gather in a circle

before him I wonder, he said slowly, if you guys ever heard about

something called personal fouls.

Ain't that something that happens when you get caught, Benson quipped.

There was a short burst of tittering.

From now on, Lee said, ignoring it, whenever we scrimmage, everyone has

the same limit we have in a game. Then you're out.

Shit, we all be out then, Gilmore said, and the boys laughed again.

Then you'll all be out, Lee said as nonchalantly as he could. He

perused the squad. To a man they were glaring back at him, and for the

first time since he had begun his initial practice with his squad, he

understood what was giving him this sense of foreboding.

The team, his team, looked more like a pack of rabid dogs panting as

they stood there staring back hatefully at him than they did a group of

teenage boys training to compete in a civilized sport.

Jessie paused in her preparations of the meat loaf she and Lee were to

have for dinner. She held her breath and listened again. It was the

oddest sound and it came from above. from old man Carter's apartment.

It sounded like some sort of steel-toothed creature gnawing away at the

floor. The crunch, crunch sound was followed by a soft gasp. It gave

her the chills. She embraced herself and waited. After another series

of crunching and another gasp, it ended. She heard footsteps. Then she

heard the door of the upstairs apartment open and close. She moved

toward the front of their apartment to hear even better.

Someone, obviously much younger than the aged tenant above, was coming

down the stairs quickly. His steps pounded with a firmness and an

authority old man Carter's lacked. The heavy oak outside door opened

and closed and the footsteps continued over the loose slats of the porch

floor and down the stone stairway. Jessie went to a slightly opened

front window and continued to listen. The sounds trickled away as

whoever it was continued rapidly over the fieldstone walk.

Lee had done a good job describing the structure and the grounds, so she

could easily imagine someone moving about out there. But whoever it was

didn't get into an automobile and drive off as she was anticipating.

Instead he turned to the right and walked toward the cemetery, the

footsteps becoming different. Jessie listened until the sound ceased.

How odd, she thought. She knew that by this time of day, the late fall

twilight had set in and it must be rather dark outside. Lee had

described the street, so she knew there were no streetlights to push

away the heavy, black curtain of night. Who was this person? Where was

he going in the dark?

For a moment she didn't move. She waited to hear old man Carter above,

but there was only a deep, ominous silence. Just as she turned to go

back to the kitchen, she caught a whiff of some putrid odor slipping

under the front door of their apartment. It was so rancid and foul, she

imagined some field animal had come into the house and died in the

entryway. Perhaps it was a poisoned rat.

The stench made her gag. She retreated quickly to the kitchen and got

herself a cold glass of water. The cool liquid bubbled when it hit her

stomach, but it seemed to clear away the stench that had lingered in her

nostrils and throat.

Poor Lee, she thought. He's going to walk right into that, whatever it

was. She felt for the clock with the raised numbers and confirmed that

he wouldn't be home for at least another hour or so. Then she returned

to her dinner preparations, but kept a keen ear out for sounds of Lee's

return. She was surprised when she heard him pull his car into the

shale-stone driveway beside the house only fifteen minutes later.

That was one thing they would definitely miss, she thought, a garage.

This old house didn't even have a carport. Then she remembered that Lee

had told her that old man Carter, although easily a man in his late

eighties, still drove his 72 Chevy. He claims he's had that car for

nearly twenty years, Lee had said, and never parked it in a garage. Of

course, all he has on it is thirteen thousand miles. He only uses it to

go to get what he needs. Can you imagine?

The inside's immaculate, but the outside's quite rusted and faded. No

dents or bumps to speak of, however. And the engine sounds like it will

go on for another twenty years. Just like him, Lee had added, and

Jessie had thought, Yes. Her initial meeting with the old man had left

her confused. Lee had introduced her to him the morning after she had

sensed they were living adjacent to a cemetery. The cemetery

caretaker's voice cracked with age, and the skin around his hand felt

wrinkled and dry, but he had La youthful firmness in his grip and she

heard Something underneath the cracking, something buried just under the

croaking, rasping voice that to her suggested youth.

It was only one of those incomprehensible, intuitive things that Lee

thought were symptoms of some mental disturbance lingering from the

accident. Maybe he was right. She certainly couldn't put her feelings

about old man Carter into words.

Jessie had the table in the dining room set and every thing warmed and

waiting in the kitchen when Lee entered the house. She turned toward

the front door as soon as she heard him insert his key in their

apartment door.

Hi, he called out. She moved quickly to greet him.

She had remained at the rear of the house ever since she had heard the

footsteps and smelled that horrible stench, but as she made her way

toward Lee she didn't smell it anymore. Lee embraced and kissed her.

Something smells great, he said. You didn't smell anything horrible on

the way in, then? she asked. Horrible? No. Why? She told him, the

two of them still holding on to each other.

No, he said again. Nothing like that. Maybe the old man had an

exterminator in and they caught whatever it was and that was what you

caught a whiff of. This house is probably old enough for that kind of

problem. Don't forget, we're out in the country.

I know. You told me the nearest neighbor was at least a good half mile

away in either direction. But why would an exterminator park his

vehicle so far from the house? I don't know, honey. Maybe you just

didn't hear him get into the truck, Lee said, and released a heavy

breath of stored tension from his lungs. She sensed it in the tightness

of his muscles and even heard it in his voice.

You don't sound as if you had a good day, Lee, she said when he released

her and started toward their bedroom to change for dinner.

I'll tell you all about it after I get out of these clothes.

Why didn't you shower and change at school like you used to? she asked.

I don't know. I just felt like getting out of there quickly today. I'll

just be a few minutes, he added quickly, and continued on to the

bedroom. She listened after him.

Strange how she had come to be able to sense his mood even in the way he

walked. But then again, she could tell a great deal about someone from

the way they walked. Heavy ponderous steps conjured up the image of a

big person or someone with a lot on his mind. Light tread was carefree,

young. She could sense age, temperament, confusion, firmness, and

determination just from the sounds of footsteps.

That's what made those footsteps she had heard before so confusing, she

thought, now that she recalled them more thoughtfully. They were fast,

energetic, but there was an intermittent shuffle, especially after

whoever it was went out of the house.

Yes, she thought, almost crying out, the dying away of sounds it didn't

come because of distance it came because the footsteps changed until it

sounded more like the individual was dragging himself or herself over

the walk. How odd, she thought, but she put her confusion aside for the

moment and went into the kitchen to get the dinner on the table.

Lee's mood was dramatically changed when he returned from his quick

shower. It was as if the water had washed away the turmoil that had

somehow formed a crust of depression over him.

I am hungry, he announced, slapping his hands together, and this does

look great. I don't know how you do it.

From memory mostly, she said. Don't forget, I did a lot of cooking for

my mother before I met you.

Well, remind me to thank her for being so lazy, Lee quipped, and

laughed.

You want to talk about your day now or wait until after we eat? Jessie

asked.