Carhops

CARHOPS - Chapter 10

 

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Copyright 2017 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved. 

 

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School started the day after the Labor Day weekend, and with it was the football season. Henry and I had turned fifteen in July and were now in high school. Although we were only freshmen, we were both on the team. Henry was a part of the secondary squad and would surely be seeing some time on the field. As the team manager, I would be sweeping the floor and doing the laundry. Not exactly equal in terms of glory, but it meant that I would be sitting with the team, water bottle in hand. 

 

Our first game was with Turner on Friday evening at home. The stadium was packed. Coach Thompson and Coach Walker worked the team hard and felt we were as ready as we could be. Before the game, we assembled in the locker room for a pep talk.  Coach Thompson asked for silence and had a final word.

 

"Gentlemen, I want to compliment you for all your hard work. Although a win is always a good thing, we are not so much concerned about who wins this game tonight, as we are in seeing how well you work together. This team is an experiment in bringing together athletes from all parts of our town. I am very pleased with how well you have worked together. It speaks well of not only your ability on the football field but of your character. I am extremely proud of all of you. 

 

“But before we take the field, I want to remind you that the team we will play tonight has not had the advantage of your experience over this past summer. The schools in Turner are still divided by race, and I will be surprised if there are no unpleasant incidents tonight. I expect that there will be rude comments directed at you both on the field and from the stands. I regret to say that I anticipate that there will be some personal fouls and abuse directed at you during the game. 

 

"The worst thing you can do is to allow this to provoke you to retaliate. If you are fouled, cursed or even spit upon, you are to endure this embarrassment with dignity and rely on the referee to levy the appropriate penalty. Do not get in the gutter with them. Coach Walker and I have spoken with the officials for tonight's game and made our concerns very clear. We have been assured that this game will be fairly officiated. Other than that, all you can do is to play hard and fair and conduct yourselves as gentlemen. Now get out on the field, do your very best and make Watalekee proud of you!"

 

The team huddled in a circle with their hands clasped above their heads and gave a great cheer. Then they ran out on the field to the roar of the crowd.

 

When I looked up into the bleachers from my position next to the water cooler, there were few empty spaces. The people from Henry's part of town were all together on one end of the stands, and they were there in force. From the group of fans from Turner, there was mostly silence and a few boos. It was not a good sign.

 

The team captains flipped a coin, Turner won the toss and elected to receive. The ball was kicked, and the game began.

 

Turner first tried a ground game and made it only forty yards before they ran out of downs and had to punt. The Tigers received the ball on their thirty-yard line and were brought down quickly. After a few short runs, they took to the air. 

 

Eddie was the Tiger quarterback and one of three black starters at the team. He was very quick and had an arm like a cannon. His first pass connected and resulted in a twenty-five yard gain. His second pass was dropped when the receiver was hit as he went up for the ball. No foul was called. Another pass was thrown which slipped through the receiver's hands. On the third down, Eddie dropped back as if to pass then handed off for a short run. Not enough for another first down and we were forced to punt. 

 

The game went back and forth like this, and at the end of the first quarter, there was no score. Turner's strength was in its running game, mainly because they were weak in passing. They were a big team for high school boys, bigger than Watalekee at least. When the teams swapped ends for the second quarter, things started to get a little rougher. The blocking got more physical and involved more pushing and shoving. Some racial epithets were muttered during the lineups, and tempers began to flare. The shout of 'get them niggers' was heard from the Turner side of the field. It looked like it might get ugly.

 

Coaches Thompson and Walker put their heads together.

 

“I want to put Henry in and try for some long passes,” Walker said.

 

“He's just a freshman. Do you think he can do it?” Thompson asked.

 

 “Let's give him a chance and see what happens,” Walker said.

 

“OK. Do it.”

 

A timeout was called by Watalekee, and Henry was brought in to play. Eddie dropped back to pass and Henry took off like a rocket. The ball arched far out over the field and Henry snatched it out of the air twenty yards past the Turner defense and ran across the goal line without ever breaking stride.

 

I was jumping up and down cheering as the stands erupted with surprise. Turner never saw it coming. The Tigers kicked for the extra point and the scoreless game was now 7 and 0. The result was electric. Turner took a long huddle then tried for a pass. It fell short of the receiver and they went back to their ground game, running well and making a first down, then a series of short plays for another. It was beginning to be a ball game.

 

Turner advanced down to the Watalekee twenty then ran out of gas. On the fourth down, they tried for a field goal and made it. Now the score was 7 and 3. They kicked off and the Tigers began another series. 

 

Now all eyes were on Henry. If he had not been noticed when he first took the field, he was now closely guarded. The ball was snapped, Henry ran long, and Eddie faked a pass, then ran for twenty yards before he was brought down by a host of defenders. While still on the ground, Eddie was punched in the gut and was slow to get up. A flag was thrown and all eyes were on the referee. True to their word, they were going to call a fair game, and called fifteen yards for a personal foul, making it a thirty-five yard gain. At this point, Turner was not sure what to expect.

 

If Eddie was hurt, he shook it off and called a quick huddle. They broke and lined up as if for a running play. Henry went out about ten yards, hooked right and took a short pass for a first down. Another quick huddle and a handoff for a short gain. Alternating between running and passing, Watalekee came within yards of the goal. 

 

By now, Henry was seen as a serious threat. He drew double coverage and was hit hard on every play. It appeared that Turner wanted him out of the game. When he cut to the corner for a pass in the end zone, he was clipped by a big Turner lineman and came up holding his side. Shaking it off, he lined up wide and ran for the far corner of the end zone while the Tiger fullback bulled his way over the goal line. The kick was good and now the score was 14 and 3.

 

Coach Walker called Henry off the field and sent in the starting end. 

 

“How are you, Henry? You took some good hits out there.”

 

"I'm OK," Henry grinned through clenched teeth. "I was just starting to have fun."

 

Thompson snorted, “You did fine, but why don't you take a break. We might need you again.”

 

Henry did go in later in the game and made yardage on several long passes, although he did not score again that night. He was no longer an unknown freshman. The final score was 34 and 10. The Tigers were off to a good start. They had played hard and held their temper against some name calling and abuse. It was not lost on either the team or the fans that the combination of two black players, Eddie and Henry, had brought the Tigers up to another level of play.

 

After the game, spirits were very high in the locker room. If there had been any misgivings about combining the teams, it was washed away in the flood of excitement. The players showered while I gathered up all the uniforms and piled them up to be washed on Saturday. By the time the locker room was swept and the towels were in the laundry, the place was deserted except for the coaches. We were concerned that there might be some trouble after the game. The Turner fans had not been pleased with the results of the game, although they had been beaten fair and square. 

 

Devon had a car, and Eddie and Henry had ridden with him to the game and returned home the same way. I scarcely had the chance to congratulate Henry before he showered and left but would see him the next day. When I finished my chores, the coaches were still sitting in their little office drawing plays on a tablet and making plans for the next game. It was dark and quiet outside when I rode my bike home. If there was trouble, I avoided it by taking back streets to the apartment.

 

Mom had attended the game and greeted me when I got home. “That was quite a game,” she said. “We are off to a great start, and your friend Henry was amazing. He's going to make quite a name for himself.” Of course, I agreed.

 

I went over to the stadium the next morning and attacked the mountain of stinky uniforms. After they had been washed and sorted, I rode over to Henry's house to check on him. He was stretched out on the sofa.

 

“How are you today?” I asked.

 

“Sore,” he replied with a smile.

 

“You did good. I bet you start for the next game.”

 

“I did OK, didn't I? It went better than I thought,” he admitted. “I'm sorry I didn't stick around and help you clean up, but I caught a ride with Devon.”

 

“Hey. You have your job and I have mine. It was cool to be able to be on the field with you guys. Besides, you didn't want to be riding your bike home with all those Turner kids cruising around after the game.”

 

“Did you have any trouble?” Henry asked with concern.

 

“No. The streets were pretty deserted by the time I left. It was fine,” I assured him. 

 

“The next game is away,” Henry reflected. “We'll have to bus over to Dooley on Friday. I guess you'll ride over with us.”

 

“Yeah. That'll be fun. I get to ride with the team.”

 

“Well, you're part of the team,” Henry reminded me. “You work as hard as anybody.”

 

Eunice came in and fussed over me. “I bet you're hungry, Jimmy. Let me fix you something.”

 

I protested feebly then accepted a ham sandwich and a glass of milk.

 

“How is your mother? Did she go to the game last night?” Eunice asked.

 

"Yes, ma'am. She was very impressed with Henry."

 

“Yes, He did fine, didn't he. We were proud of him too.”

 

“So, you were at the game?”

 

“Oh, yes. We were all there. We couldn't miss that,” she smiled proudly. “I saw you over there with the team. You were keeping busy.”

 

“I'm basically the janitor,” I laughed. “But it's fun to be part of the team.”

 

Mom came home from the restaurant after she got off work that night full of news.

 

“Everybody was talking about that football game today. They all had nice things to say about the colored boys on the team.”

 

“Really? That was the idea, I guess. For sure, they add to the team.”

 

“Yes they do,” she said, “and I know you are proud of your friend Henry. They were talking about him, too.”

 

Henry came over to the apartment Sunday afternoon. When in my bedroom, I asked him,” How are you feeling? You still sore from the game?”

 

Henry stretched out on my bed and sighed. “I'm better,” he said. “It's not that I worked all that hard. It's the hits. I have these bruises on my back that are tender. But I'm fine, really. I don't mean to whine.”

 

“Hey. If you hurt, you hurt. Besides, you can whine to me if you like. I'm on your side, Henry.”

 

“Well, there isn't much I can do about it,” Henry shrugged. “I'll get over it.”

 

"Actually, there is something you can do about it," I protested. "What you need is a therapeutic massage. If you rub those sore places in the right way, you can increase the blood flow and make them heal faster."

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“The library. I read. I'm a nerd, remember? There are books on this stuff.”

 

“I guess, but that doesn't mean you know how to do it.”

 

“I don't know. The book has pictures,” I said. “I could try.”

 

Henry laughed. “You're something else, Jimmy. Go ahead, if you think it will help.”

 

“OK. Take off your clothes and turn over.”

 

“Are you sure this is about massaging my sore back?”

 

“Yes, yes. Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you. Just turn over.”

 

I took the book on therapeutic massage I had checked out from the library and opened it to the right page. I put some hand lotion on Henry's back and began to slowly and gently press the heels of my hands down each side of his spine from his shoulders to his hips. He responded with a low moan. 

 

“Where does it hurt?” I asked.

 

“On my left side, mostly. A guy got me with his Helmet there. Can you see it?”

 

When I looked closely, I could tell that there was an area where Henry's dark skin had a purple cast to it. "Yeah, I can see that. Right here?" I pressed against the purple area. “Hmph! Yeah. Right there!”

 

“Hold still.” I put more lotion on my hands and stroked the bruise very gently, moving my hands from the center to the outside, trying to move the fluid in the swollen tissue. When Henry relaxed, I pressed a little harder, feeling the skin grow warmer under the friction of my hands.

 

“How's that feel?”

 

“Better. That might be helping. Keep it up,” Henry purred.

 

I put more lotion on his back, his hips, and down his legs, trying to relax him with long slow strokes that were intended to loosen the tight muscles and push fluid away from his center and move waste material into the lymphatic system. At least, that's what it said to do in the book. I went up onto his shoulders and down his arms, always pulling away from the center of his body to the perimeter using firm but gentle pressure. 

 

I let my hands grasp his muscles evenly, feeling them slide through my hands while I kept the pressure constant. It felt good to be connected to him this way, and I could tell it felt good to Henry, as he sighed and relaxed under my hands. I was aware of how strong he was, of how full his muscles felt over his bones and sinews. There was no fat on his body anywhere. I was tempted to ask him to roll over to see what effect this was having on the front of his body but did not want to introduce something that I knew would cause him to tense up. This was for Henry's benefit, not mine.

 

As the book suggested, I concluded the exercise by moving my hands over his shoulders out to his fingertips, then back to his neck, down across his back, over his hips and down his legs to his ankles, moving slowly with a light touch. The effect it had on me was to give me an erection. The effect on Henry was to leave him completely relaxed. I sat back and looked at my beautiful friend, covered him with the sheet and crept silently out of the room to let him sleep.

 

I went into the kitchen, fixed myself a sandwich then stretched out on the sofa so as not to disturb Henry. The plan to integrate the football team seemed to me to be a success so far. The players were getting along pretty well. There had been some griping when a few of last year's first string players had been moved to the second team, but it didn't seem to be so much a problem with race, as with the loss of their status. 

 

Out of the roughly thirty boys on the Tiger squad, nine were black. Because of the way that the practices had been organized, race didn't have much to do with things. The black guys were pleased to be part of the larger program and did not appear to have any chips on their shoulders. The white guys could see that there was the potential for a better team and accepted the new members. It was working.

 

From what my mother had observed, there was generally a positive interest in the new arrangement within the community. At least that was reflected by the restaurant crowd. Maybe this was going to work. From a personal standpoint, I figured it would be an improvement not to have to sneak around to be friends with Henry, as long as the deeper nature of our relationship was not common knowledge. We had worked together at Sparky's. We were both freshmen. We were both on the football team, so what was the big deal?

 

An hour later, Henry wandered in from the bedroom. “What did you do to me?” he asked with a yawn. “I feel better.”

 

“Did that help?” I asked, pleasantly surprised.

 

“Yeah, it did. That bruised area is still a little tender if I mash on it, but it feels a lot better. You may be onto something. Thanks.”

 

“Good. A nap might have helped too. I just did what it said in that book.”

 

“If you can get all that out of a book, you could be really good if you had some training,” Henry suggested. “You might have discovered a new career path.”

 

I shrugged, not taking him all that seriously. Still, it was a thought.

 

On Wednesday after practice, Coach Walker called me over to where he and Coach Thompson were sitting in their little office. “If you have a minute, Jimmy, we would like to talk to you.”

 

“Yes, sir. What's up?”

 

“Henry tells us that you have a talent we might use,” he said. “What do you know about sports massage?”

 

"Not much, but I found a book on it in the library," I admitted.

 

Coach Walker smiled. "According to Henry, you're good at it. He said you helped him with some minor injuries he had after the last game."

 

“I just tried what was in the book. I'm glad if it helped.”

 

“I took some courses in physical therapy when I was in college,” Walker said. “I wonder if I might work with you a little. That could be helpful to the team. We have no way to hire anyone to do that sort of thing for us, but if you have a talent for it, we might be able to use you.”

 

“Sure. That would be cool. I could do a better job if I knew what I was doing. I'd like that.”

 

“You are already doing a lot as the team manager,” Coach Thompson said. “If you can fill in as a volunteer trainer, we would get someone else to take over your manager duties. Would you be interested in that?”

 

“I would. That sounds like a promotion. You could double my pay.”

 

“But, we aren't paying you anything,” Thompson reminded me.

 

“Right” I grinned. 

 

Thompson smiled and nodded. “Another thing, Jimmy. I know that you and Henry worked together last summer and it seems that you two are friends. Is that right?”

 

“Uh, yes, sir,” I acknowledged, wondering where this was going.

 

"Well, here's the thing. The integration of the football team is an experiment of sorts. It appears that everyone is getting along well enough during practice and the game went very well, but we are a little concerned about the bus trip to the away games. We would rather not have any awkwardness on the bus. Specifically, we don't want any back of the bus stuff for the colored boys. It would be healthy if the seating were mixed. If you are comfortable sitting with Henry, that would be a good thing. We will try to facilitate that for all the former Panther players. Are you OK with that?"

 

I felt a wave of relief. “Sure thing, sir. I would be fine with that.”

 

“Good, good,” Coach Thompson smiled. “Now if you can work with Coach Walker on the physical therapy, I think we can make better use of your talents.”

 

I left the locker room walking on air. On Friday after school, we loaded our equipment into the back of the bus and set off for Dooley. I sat with Henry, the other colored guys sat with other white guys, and we were mixed on the bus just as we were on the team. What started out as feeling a little awkward, felt more comfortable by the time we got down to the game. On the way home, we kicked back, laughed and joked as if we had always done this. The comfort level was raised considerably by the fact that we won the game.

 

That night, to no one's surprise, Henry was a starter and caught two touchdown passes. If there were rude remarks from the stands and unsportsmanlike conduct from a couple of Dooley players, we shook it off. We knew who we were, and outplayed them all night. I thought it might even make some of these rednecks think twice about the divided teams in their own communities.

 

The next week, it took a few days to find a replacement to serve in the prestigious position of team manager and one day for me to train him. Coach Walker started spending some time with me after practice to make a trainer out of me. I showed him the book I got from the library, and he gave me a better one. He gave me a basic understanding of physiology, and some practical training using some freshmen as Guinea pigs. 

 

It seemed to come naturally to me and I caught on quickly. Because I was so interested in learning, he continued to work with me. I needed to understand how to treat sprains and strains, how to use ice and stretching techniques so I could help during the games. It gave me something that was more useful to the team than washing towels, and I really enjoyed it. Henry was proud of me.

 

Life fell into a kind of routine for us. We attended our separate schools each day, came together for football practice after school then returned to our respective homes. On Saturday, I usually went over to see Henry at his house and on Sunday afternoons he came by my apartment after my mother left for work. We got to see each other almost every day, but Sundays were the only time we were able to be alone together. We treasured Sunday afternoons.

 

Coach Walker knew a lot about Sports Medicine and was able to teach me a quite a bit. He found a folding table for me to use. If someone needed attention during practice or a game, I was able to use ice, stretching or massage to provide some relief for minor injuries. Of course, if it was anything more serious it would have been beyond my ability, but I was doing something very useful, and it felt good.

 

What was rewarding to me was that the players began to see me as someone useful, and I was accepted as a real member of the team. The job of the manager is important, but nobody sees what is done behind the scenes. What I was doing now was visible to everybody and it was appreciated. That really felt good. 

 

Even though Henry was a freshman, he became something of a hero. With Eddie as the quarterback, Henry averaged two hundred yards per game. He made spectacular catches, leaping high and snaring balls that should have been out of reach, running and zig-zagging through defenders for yardage, and doing it all with a kind of classy demeanor that won the admiration of even those who were not keen on the mixing of races on the team. When he was asked about his success, he invariably pointed to the other members of the team as the ones who made this possible.  

 

Add to this the fact that, as was typical for small schools at the time, there were no separate offensive and defensive squads, no special teams. The starting players tended to play most of the game. When someone was shaken up or became exhausted, a secondary player would be sent in to substitute for a time. If the Tigers were able to run up a good lead, then the secondary guys would be sent in to give them some game experience. While the coaches shifted some guys between the first and second squads as the season went along, once Henry was made a starter, he stayed there. This meant that Henry played most of each game, both offense and defense. As a defensive player, his speed ran down many of the opposing runners. He intercepted passes and broke up key plays. He was an excellent all-around player. 

 

The most surprising thing that happened that season was when we were returning from one of the away games. Henry had played very hard and took a vicious hit. Coach Thompson pulled him out and substituted for him which gave me a chance to put him on my table and work on his back a little. From the way he stiffened up when I tried to stretch him out, I could tell that he was hurting. He insisted that he was fine, went back in, and continued to play at a high level. However, when we got on the bus to return home, he was clearly exhausted. As usual, we sat together. I sat next to the window and Henry quickly fell asleep, slumping against my shoulder. To make him more comfortable, I put my arm around him, pulled him close to let him sleep. It was rather a tender moment I suppose. 

 

On the way back, Coach Walker made his way down the aisle of the bus, chatting with the players and complimenting them on a good game. He paused when he came to us, and gave me a strange smile. He moved on without speaking, and I didn't think much about it at the time. But the next week, Coach Walker asked me to stay after practice. We were alone. He called me into the office and paused, then cleared his throat. 

 

“I don't mean to pry into something personal, but it seems that you and Henry are rather close. I want you to know that I don't have a problem with that, but you need to be very careful.”

 

I didn't know how to respond, hesitated and said, “I've known Henry for a long time, sir. We worked together summer before last and I do admire him.”

 

“I understand that, Jimmy. Henry is an outstanding athlete and an unusually fine person. I'm just telling you that you should be careful. That's all I have to say.” 

 

He looked at me with an expression of concern and waited to see if I wanted to respond. When I did not, he leaned back and said. “You're doing a great job as our trainer, Jimmy. I want to thank you. OK?”

 

"Thank you, sir. Is that all?" I replied.

 

“That's all. Just be careful.” He stood and I left, not sure what to make of our brief conversation.

 

The next time I had the chance to speak privately with Henry, I told him about my conversation with Coach Walker. “I don't know what to make of that. What was he saying? Does he suspect something?”

 

Henry thought for a minute. “You know that Coach Walker is a single guy, right?”

 

“I never thought about it. Why?”

 

“He coached the Panthers last year. He grew up over in our part of town and a lot of people remember him from when he was in high school,” Henry recalled. “You know that there is always a lot of interest in a guy like that. He's pretty well respected, but I've heard that when he was in high school, he never dated much. Like, maybe he never really had a girlfriend. People wonder about that sort of thing, especially in our part of town where it isn't all that unusual for guys to have a lot of experience with girls.”

 

“What are you saying? I asked. “You thinking he's queer?”

 

Henry shook his head. “I never heard anybody suggest that, but who knows? If he's not but thinks we are, then maybe he's trying to give us a head's up. If he is, maybe he's speaking from experience. In any case, I'd have to say that he's trying to look after us.”

 

“I don't know if I should be scared, or grateful.”

 

“Maybe both,” Henry said. “I do wonder what brought that on.”

 

“I think I know,” I told him. “Coming back from the game last Friday, you fell asleep on my shoulder and I had my arm around you. I guess he noticed.”

 

“I was pretty beat up after that game. It was innocent enough, but I guess he was afraid somebody would make something out of it.”

 

“I was just trying to make you comfortable so you could sleep.”

 

“I know, and maybe he knew that, but wondered a little. What he said to you could have been taken either way,” Henry said.

 

“If he noticed that it looked funny, maybe somebody else might too,” I said. “He's right about one thing. We need to be careful not to give the wrong impression.”

 

“Or the right impression. Maybe we shouldn't sit next to each other,” Henry suggested.

 

I sighed, “Why does life have to be so complicated?”

 

“Well,” Henry smiled. “We always have Sunday afternoons.”

 

So, we were careful. Football season was over, and after that was basketball season. It was no surprise to anyone that Henry was good at that too. He played well enough as a freshman to make the team, and I served as the trainer. The sport changed, but our routine didn't. Later, Henry played baseball and we kept things going. 

 

By the next year, Henry had grown much taller and picked up even more muscle. He was six foot five inches tall and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. He was a force to be reckoned with. I grew too, but at five foot ten, I was a head shorter than Henry. 

 

Now that we were sophomores, other things changed. The schools integrated, and problems were less than expected. After cheering for integrated teams, the path had been smoothed for integrating the schools. Henry and I celebrated our sixteenth birthdays with a combined birthday party, this time at my mother's apartment. Shortly after that, I got my driver's license, and on condition that I kept my grades up, Mom started letting me use her old Chevrolet. This simplified a lot of things.

 

By the time we were juniors, Henry was already getting some attention from university recruiters. His options for college looked very solid. The Tulsa World wrote an article highlighting him as one of Oklahoma's most promising athletes. He brushed it off with his usual modesty but bought a dozen copies of the paper which he placed in a box under his bed. I taped the article to the wall over my bed.

 

“Where are you planning to go to college?” I asked Henry one Sunday afternoon.

 

“I don't know,” he said. “That's a long time off.”

 

“It's not that far. You'll be a senior next year. I guess you'll major in football.”

 

“You can't just major in a sport. I'd have to major in a real subject of some kind,” he told me. “Coach Walker suggested that I might major in Physical Education and be a coach somewhere. I guess that would be the easy thing to do. It sounds kind of pud though.”

 

“Why not? You'll probably end up playing pro ball anyway.”

 

“I don't know that I'd want to do that. I don't want to be one of those guys who ends up all busted up with no real job after a few years.  I want to do more than that.”

 

“You'd make a good coach.”

 

“Maybe I might. That's a long way down the road.” Henry shrugged. “What about you? Have you made any plans?”

 

“Well, I'm not going to get an athletic scholarship, but I might be able to get a scholarship based on academics. I was talking to Coach Walker about that. Did you know that more people go to college on academic scholarships than athletic scholarships?”

 

“You make straight A's. I wouldn't be surprised that you can. What are you thinking about?”

 

“I'm not sure,” I said, “but I've really enjoyed my job as a trainer. Coach Walker suggested that I think about becoming a physical therapist.”

 

Henry nodded. “Walker is looking out for both of us, isn't he?”

 

And, he was. Tyrone Walker quietly guided both of us through our senior year. Henry was offered scholarships from several universities. Perhaps really not by chance, one of the most attractive came from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. It was a full ride, books, tuition, and housing. Henry was excited. We talked about it on Sunday afternoon.

 

"This is fantastic!" Henry told me. "I'm going to get to go to a good college. I never let myself imagine that this would actually happen. This will change my life."

 

“It's not a gift,” I reminded him. “You worked hard for this and you deserve it. Lots of schools would be proud to have you.”

 

"It's just hard for me to believe this is real. My parents want all of us kids to go to college. George and William are both over at Langston now. They got some scholarships, but it doesn't cover everything. They're both working while they go to school and my folks are helping as best they can, but with two other kids already in college, there is nothing left for me. A full scholarship is just unbelievable."

 

“You're going to be a long way from home.”

 

“Yeah, I know. That's a big campus. It will be a lot different from living here. I'll be lost up there.”

 

“I will miss you, that's for sure,” I said wistfully.

 

“I'll miss you too,” Henry said. “That may be the worst thing about this.”

 

“You'll be busy. You won't have time to miss me all that much. We can write to each other. You have to do this, Henry. It's too good to pass up.”

 

“I know, but it's kind of scary.”

 

"Henry. You've never been scared of anything. You'll be all right," I laughed. 

 

“What about you?” Henry asked. “Where will you go?”

 

“I've been looking around. I can get an academic scholarship to Northeastern over in Tahlequah. They have a school for Physical Therapy. I'm checking that out.”

 

“Have you ever been over there? I understand that it's a nice campus.”

 

“Mom and I are going to drive over there and look it over. It's not that far away.”

 

“We will graduate from high school in two weeks,” Henry said. “If I accept the offer I will have to go up there for orientation the second week of July. Summer practice will start as soon as I get there. We don't have much time left.”

 

“If you accept? You mean you haven't already accepted?”

 

Henry shrugged. “Yes. I signed the papers two weeks ago. I guess I'm committed. I just hated to tell you.”

 

“Don't feel that way. I'm happy for you. I'll miss you, and you would be stupid if you passed on that.”

 

Henry stretched out on the bed and covered his face with his arm. “I can't tell you how much I'll miss you, Jimmy. We have had this special thing ever since that summer we worked as carhops at Sparky's. You're the only guy I have ever been with like that. I can't imagine that there will ever be another like you. I'm not sure what I'm going to do.”

 

I put my arms around my friend. “You are the only one for me too, Henry. This will be hard for both of us, but it had to happen sometime. We will never forget the time we had together. I know I won't. Let's make the best of what time we have left. I have no regrets, and neither should you.”

 

We held each other tight and made long sweet love together. We repeated this activity as often as we could before it was time for Henry to take a bus up to his new school. On the day he left we cried and promised to keep in touch, to write letters and talk on the telephone as often as we could. Henry promised that he would see me when he came home on school breaks. He told me that he loved me, and I said I loved him. It was sad and sweet at the same time.

 

There were a lot of people at the bus station when he got on board. Coach Thompson and Coach Walker were there along with most of the football team. Henry's mother and father stood with my mom and Penelope and we all waved to him as the bus rode away. I watched until the bus disappeared out of sight.

 

We wrote for awhile, and Henry called me at Christmas. He had played some during the first season, but he was competing with a lot more talent than when he was in our little school. Henry had hopes that he would play more the next year. He sounded kind of discouraged. He said his classes were going fine, his grades were good. That wasn't a problem. I told him that I liked it over in Tahlequah. I was doing fine. I didn't ask him if he had found another special friend, and he didn't ask me. We didn't seem to have a lot to say. 

 

When he came home for a visit at the first of the summer, we saw each other, pretended that everything was cool, but it was all over. No hard feelings, of course, it was just over. The earth had turned and things had changed.

 

The next year, Henry did play a lot. By his junior year, he was making the headlines. He was talented and worked hard. He got offers from the pros, but he wanted to graduate, so he stayed until he got his degree. He went to play for the Rams for a season then decided it wasn't for him. The last I heard he was coaching at a junior college in northern California. 

 

I liked it at Northeastern. I came home as often as I could to look in on my mother. I met a friend at the school, an art major from Tulsa who was a nice guy. I found that I liked physical therapy, stayed for a master's degree then went to work in a clinic in Eureka Springs. I made lots of friends there.

 

I always wondered what happened to Henry. I hoped he was happy. He was the nicest guy I ever knew.

 

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THE END.

 

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