LEN BIAS: CROSSOVER
A novel
By: Michael D. McClellan | September 19, 2010
Why are you doing this?
"Me moving back to Apple Creek, Mark introducing us on that Amish country tour in Berlin - how cheesy was that? The train ride? Remember that? We were the youngest people on that train, everybody else onboard was silver-haired and ready for the nursing home."
You're not going to make me think I'm crazy no matter how much you mess with my mind. I'm Leonard Kevin Bias, I'm just back from the NBA Draft in New York City. I've just talked with Reebok about a multimillion dollar shoe contract. I don't know you, I don't know anything about you!
A voice in the doorway: "Hey, Em. How's he doing?"
"John! It's so good to see you, come in." The tall, slender man in the doorway enters the room. He's wearing a pair of blue dress pants, white shirt, red bow tie, houndstooth jacket. He gives Emily a big hug, all the while staring at me as if he's just seen a ghost.
"Any change?"
"He's improving. It's slow, but it's something."
"How about you? How are you holding up?"
"It's hard," she says, and then she breaks down. John holds her, let's her cry. After a few minutes she takes a deep breath and steps away. John gives her the handkerchief in his pocket. "I'm scared, John. For Jason. For both of us. There's so much left for us to do...it wasn't supposed to be like this."
"Hey, he's in very good hands here."
"I know, and I'm thankful for that, I really am. But there's still so much we don't know. The recovery, where this is all going to end up, what we're going to have left...it's in God's hands now, it's really up to Him."
"Jason's a fighter, we both know that. He's not going to let something like this keep him down. He'll be out riding his tractor before you know it, coaching the kids, getting ready to run that marathon in Seattle next year."
"I hope so."
"How's his head?"
"The doctors say he's making very good progress. The pressures are way down and he's up two points on the Glasgow.
That's right on the threshold of elevating the injury into the mild range. So we're cautiously optimistic. We pray and we wait."
John offers another hug. "And we pray and wait with you."
"Thank you. Thanks for coming."
"I'm just sorry it's taken so long to get here."
"You were in Australia, it's not like you could stop what you were doing and just show up. When did you get in?"
"Almost midnight last night. I had to meet with a client this morning and tie up some loose ends. I'm free now, and Abbey is on her way over to see you. Is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything you need?"
"No, I'm fine. I just want my husband back."
"He looks a lot more bruised up than I'd imagined."
"The bruising has gone down quite a bit since the accident. You should have seen him a couple of days ago. Doctor Smithson says that it looks worse than it really is, but that's a lot easier to say from his perspective."
"What's the latest on his other injuries?"
Emily takes a deep breath and exhales deeply. She grips the bed rail, her eyes never leaving mine. "A broken nose, two broken ribs, a compound fracture of the right leg. The doctors here have done a great job with Jason, and from the beginning they've said they don't expect any problems long term. It could have been a lot worse. Thank God he's a strong man - thank God the impact wasn't any worse than it was."
"And the other driver?"
"Her funeral was Tuesday."
My head is spinning. Tripping. Everything in the room suddenly feels like it's closing in around me, pressing against my body, forming to it, smothering me. Like the frigid water that day at Hunting Creek Lake.
"Jason's a lucky man," John says. "He's lucky to be alive right now."
"The witness said it happened so fast - the car veered into his lane at the last moment. Jason locked up the Honda. It helped, probably saved his life. That, and the seatbelt."
"Em, if you need anything - my time, money..."
"We're going to be fine."
"I'm just saying-"
"We have good insurance, the farmhouse is paid for, the school has already been in touch to assure us that Jason's job is safe."
"You're family - he's my brother. You know I'm going to be right here with you through this."
"I know, thank you."
"What about your job?"
"I'm using sick days right now, I have vacation time that I'll take if I need to. Thank you for letting me use your home to get cleaned up and get some rest. It's been a blessing having you here, so close to the hospital."
The phone rings. Emily answers it, makes small talk, promises to call if she needs anything, says she's fine and not to worry, understands that Tulsa is halfway across the country, appreciates the thoughts and prayers, hangs up. A nurse appears; she checks vitals and IVs, and then disappears almost as quickly as she had come. John and Emily talk about the business trip to Australia, John's successful law firm in Cleveland, Abbey and the kids, the vacation homes in Aspen and Key West, the upcoming hunting excursion to Canada. They sit together in silence for long stretches. The phone rings constantly, one concerned family member or close friend after another. Cousins, colleagues, former teammates, neighbors, church members. Emily steps out at one point, takes a walk, comes back holding a Diet Coke. John excuses himself to call a client. More nurses. Through it all I'm the center of attention, discussed in great detail at some points and ignored completely at others, the heavy weight of my situation never far away.
