No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story (15 page)

Now the applause was robust. Brandi was not the sort to tap-dance around the issues. Cody stood up and asked for quiet. The room hushed when he turned to face her again.

“So you’re speakin’ for me now?” Cody folded his arms. “Thank God. Somebody needs to.”

Rousing acclamation burst forth and continued as the two worked their way to the exit, shaking hands and thanking everyone.

Cody’s cell rang. “You guys were electric! Hey, slugger! What was the name of that Solomon song you told me about?” Derek was certain his strategy would work.

The couple was escorted back to their suite. The next few hours would reveal initial reactions to their first public appearance. Brandi dozed with Knoxi while Cody napped in the next room.

They were awake when it was time for the six o’clock news and were surprised to learn that the televised news conference had already created national headlines. Brandi’s stunning transparency, having exposed her personal struggle, trusting millions of viewers with her story, and Cody’s reaction, esteeming her to the world, had stirred thousands of grassroots Americans.

Ronald Kingsley of
Deep in The Heart
magazine told it best:

“
After Brandi had revealed all, killing us softly with a near fatal dose of bare reality, Cody took her hand and looked into her eyes. We, along with the rest of America, held our collective breath. Would he kiss her? Not one of us would have blamed him for loving her with all his soul.”

Sitting in their suite, Cody and Brandi watched the news story unfold in living color while nibbling at room service. Cody got up and paced. Brandi sat on the couch with arms folded.

“I don’t wanna see any more,” she said. “Just turn it off. They make us out to be two perfect people living in some sort of
la-la land.
Is this the way it’s gonna always be? Is this your agent’s brilliant plan? Armed bodyguards following us and standing outside our door? I feel shut in.”

Cody didn’t answer. Instead, he switched channels and sat back down. The televised Home Run Derby was in progress at the stadium. Baseball — his standard escape from troubling realities. The Derby is a popular event the night before the All-Star Game. Players with hefty home run totals are invited to participate. Cody had been asked, but had opted out because of exhaustion.

During breaks in the action, the network showed segments from the press conference along with highlights from Brandi’s basketball career and Cody’s baseball exploits.

The coverage of Brandi’s eighteenth-inning catch in Pittsburgh had spawned a life of its own. The spin was that Brandi had gone to the left-field pavilion to inspire Cody to hit a home run to her and win the game. Brandi’s one-handed catch above the bleachers completely overshadowed Cody’s improbable game-ending strikeout of Tanner McNair, one of the premiere hitters in baseball.

The media had now branded them the latest
hot couple
— two faultless people living the ultimate fantasy. Creating a fairy tale was the last thing they had wanted, and tonight they could think of nothing to say to each other.

Brandi now understood Cody’s last-minute reluctance to host a media conference, but she was troubled by his alternating explosive-reclusive behavior, and was uncomfortable with someone whose intentions she couldn’t read. He was charming, warm, and articulate but at times stiff and unknowable with a personality about as engaging as a chunk of Pennsylvania bituminous coal.

Soon, sitting on the sofa across from him, Brandi reached her limit. Stress, physical injuries, fatigue — she ached all over and wanted to excuse herself.

“You wanna keep Knoxi company while I bathe?” She winced after she had spoken. How would Cody fare alone with her toddler for the first time?

He nodded to her while he was glued to the screen watching the Derby. Tanner was taking his turn at the plate.

“Cody, did you understand what I just asked? Hello? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got this.”

“
You got this?
Is that
all
you can say? I’d really like to have a few minutes alone to relax. Are you okay being
totally
responsible for her?”

“I mean I got this. Go ahead.” He looked at the screen. “Attaboy, Sly!” He turned to Brandi. “Did you see that?”

“
Never mind!
I’ll just put her in the bath with me.” She attempted to pick up Knoxi, but the little scrambler ran toward Cody and clutched his pants leg.

The tiny girl flashed her huge eyes at Cody, who finally reached down and lifted her up. “See, I told you. We got this.” He looked at the toddler. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“Her name is Knoxi.” She put hands on hips and tapped her foot. “Now listen to me. If she cries or if she even —”

“What is it about ‘
I got this’
that you don’t get?”

Brandi was quiet. Indecision was written on every centimeter of her face. He toned it down. “I can handle it, okay? We’ll do fine.” He offered her a confident smile.

“All right. But you come get me if anything…I mean, just knock on the door, o
kay?”

Brandi hesitated, then disappeared into the bathroom. Knoxi was crazy about Cody, but he seemed disinterested. Would her daughter eventually get her heart broken? Would Knoxi cry as soon as she realized her mother had departed the room? She left the bathroom door open about an inch — a tiny space through which any sound of travail could make its way to her attentive ears.

Something was certain to go wrong. Cody could handle himself with bad guys and ballplayers, but little girls didn’t seem to be his specialty.
I have a bad feeling about this.

But when she slipped into the whirlpool, she lost herself in the soothing bubbles and soft currents. Time spent alone was rare for a caring single mom. She would wash her hair, do her nails, and thank God for a few moments during which she could be caressed by the water and pamper herself.

In the next room, Knoxi yawned. Cody quietly took her into the adjoining bed chamber, sat down on the bed, and placed her on his lap. He put her head on his shoulder in an awkward attempt to get her to sleep, but she was more fascinated by his nose and wanted to squeeze it with her fingers.

Finally, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote this for you after the news conference today. This will be
our
secret, okay?”

The feisty girl displayed the peaches-and-cream dimples that she had inherited from her mother. Her wide eyes fixated upon his hands as he unfolded the paper and began to read.

His raspy voice made her smile. She placed her hand on his mouth and wrapped her fingers inside his lower lip as if to absorb through her touch the words he had written.

“Hey there, beautiful.

Did you notice that you leave me breathless?

Joy by surprise

Looking straight into my eyes.

And you’re so beautiful.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you

All the days, all the days of your life.

There’ll be no mountain so high

That you cannot one day climb

For you are the apple of the Father’s eye.

Hey there, beautiful

Here’s to you, my little princess.

May the echoes of today

Love’s promise softly light your way.

Hey there, beautiful, hey, hey.”

When he had finished, she was asleep, her head on his shoulder.

He placed her on the bed and covered her. “You never know,” he said quietly. “One of these days, you’re gonna talk so much you won’t know when to shut up,
just like your mom.”

Then he turned and saw Brandi standing in the doorway. Dripping wet hair, glassy eyes, and wearing a full-length kimono, her delicately-drawn smile left no doubt — she had heard every word. He folded the poem and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

Like a pawn in the presence of a queen he stepped softly toward her. “I…didn’t mean that like it —” He paused. “Uh, did you know that Albert Einstein's mom thought he was retarded cuz it took him several years to learn how to talk?”

Brandi stared at him like a calf looks at a new gate. Her lips spoke not a word. She fashioned a dry towel around her head to cover her just-washed hair and never took her eyes off him.

Cody hung his thumbs on his front pockets. “Uh, how long have you been standing there?” He waited. Would she at least make a sound?

Sheepishly he dropped his eyes toward the floor. The ends of her wet hair had dripped onto the carpet, leaving a trail behind her all the way to the bathroom. Her slender pink toes, with newly polished
Tangerette Pearl
nails, peeked out from below the hem of her robe. A scab that reminded him of a saddle rode atop her left big toe, courtesy of her Friday-night tormentors.

At last, she focused on the folded paper in his breast pocket, held out her palm, and snapped her fingers. He handed it over.

Brandi opened it and silently stared at the crumpled page. Her ocean-blue eyes became moist, her nose blush red.

Finally, she looked up. “What planet are you from, Cody Musket? You may be a son of the thunder where you came from, but not in my world. You don’t fool me for a second, but I still can’t figure you out.” She tilted her head. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No sense at all,” he said. “But I prefer
your
world.”

“Good night, man of steel.” She stepped aside to let him through the door and then caught his arm as he passed. Her wistful eyes blinked twice like a puppy dog pleading to be held. “Cody, I —” She never finished.

“I know." He nodded. "Good night, Brandi Barnes.”

*     *     *

Cody awoke before dawn. The digital clock beside his bed told him it was 0530. He turned over. Just then, he was startled to hear a child screaming. The sound was bloodcurdling. At first it was far away, and then close — in the hallway outside his room.

He tried to kick the covers off and run to the door, but he couldn’t move. Suddenly, he heard a crash. Three men wearing turbans had burst into the room. They smelled like burning flesh.

They pulled him from the bed and dragged him to the door. He looked out and saw at least five hundred people standing in the hallway of the Marriott with raised arms shouting,
“
Death to America! Death to Americans!”

He was on fire. His body felt the sting of ten thousand whips, though no one had touched him. His lower right leg was burned beyond recognition. He could see cuts and burns all over his body. His thirst was unbearable.

Then he looked down to discover that the hallway had morphed into a dusty gravel road — the only passage through a small village — the same street in which the goats and fowl defecated.

The crowd moved back as his abductors threw him into the dirt. Hundreds of voices screamed in a dialect he had never heard. The howling mob was feeding off the collective rage. He would surely be torn apart within moments.

They dragged him through the filth and gravel toward a structure on the other side of the street. He heard the sorrowful sobs of children but couldn’t see them.

Just then, a terrified teenage girl was dragged before him. She was screaming, crying, naked, staring through gray eyes nearly swollen shut, abandoned to evil with none to deliver her. He reached his hand toward her. She should at least know someone felt her pain. They threw her upon him. Suddenly, hatred and rage overtook him. He was the target of a thousand curses, but he lifted his voice and wailed.

“Oh, God, don’t let me die this way! Help me save the kids! Send in the SEALs!”

His words rang through the village and echoed off the walls of his twentieth-floor suite. Brandi sat straight up. She flew out of the bed and ran into his room. He lay underneath the coffee table in a fetal position, his hands covering his ears.

“Cody! Cody, can you hear me? You’re having a bad dream
. Wake up!"

“You heard me, Sergeant! Get those kids outta there!”

Then he screamed like a scalded beast and clutched his left knee. He tried to rise but banged his head on the underside of the table. He fell back to the floor and then crawled away, dragging his left leg as the table fell in the opposite direction. He collapsed temporarily, writhing and coughing.

Brandi wanted to run to the other room and get her phone to call Tanner, but she dare not leave Cody alone. She couldn’t control the shaking of her hands and thus doubted she could even manage a call.

Cody began to sob. He moaned out chilling words. “Pleeeese, God. No. Pleeeese, God. I gotta end their misery.
Noooooo
!”

She despaired.
Oh, God, what can I do?
She remembered what Julia had said to her —
“He stopped himself because you were the one holding on to him.”

Something evil was in the air. It smelled like a burning, rotting carcass. Brandi fought the panic as she knelt and spoke tenderly. “Cody? It’s Brandi. Cody? I’m here.” She wrapped her tremoring arms around his midsection as he crawled again. His shirt was soaked. He stopped when his head bumped into the kitchenette wall, then sat up and looked at her.

His eyes were tearful, wild, distant. “
Brandi?”

He reached out and clung to her like a drowning man clutching a float. In a few seconds, he leaned back against the wall and rubbed his eyes.

“How long have you been here? Is Knoxi okay?” His breathing was labored, his speech slurred.

“Cody, how often does this happen?”

“How bad was it?” he asked, holding his hand over his forehead.

“How bad? Your head is bleeding if that’s any indication. Have you sought help for this?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He lowered his hand, now bloody from touching his forehead. “I recognize your shirt — ‘I Love The Son.’”

“Let me help you back to bed and clean up your head. I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”

The stench was gone. In a few moments, Cody was asleep again. She went to her room, checked on Knoxi, got dressed, and returned. She dozed in the recliner beside his bed until he awoke at 9:00 a.m.

When he finally opened his eyelids, Knoxi had wandered into the room and had climbed into her mother’s lap.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Good to see — Uh, what’re y’all doin here?”

“How much do you remember?” she asked.