LEN BIAS: CROSSOVER
A novel
By: Michael D. McClellan | September 19, 2010
"What happened to me?"
Emily closes the clam shell mirror, places it on the window sill. "You were in St. Louis, working a summer camp at the St. Louis Basketball Academy. It's the third year that you've worked it. Your best friend Aaron Clemens runs the academy. The two of you were teammates at The College of Wooster. Do you remember Aaron?"
I shake my head, numb.
"You worked the camp for the extra money and a chance to visit your friend. The plane ticket was paid for, and you stayed with Aaron, his wife and their two daughters. You stayed a few extra days after the camp was over, so that they two of you could hike and fish. Then you flew back to Ohio on June 15th."
"That's not right, but go on."
"Your plane landed at Wayne County Airport on that Wednesday afternoon. The Honda was parked at the airport. You called me from your phone when you landed, and said that you were on your way home. Do you remember any of this?"
"No."
Emily closes her eyes and rubs her temples. She takes a deep breath. Exhales. "The airport is eight miles from our farmhouse in Apple Creek, four miles from Wooster. You were driving south on 585 between Smithville and Wooster. Sherri Ferguson had just left town and was driving north on 585. She was a student at Wooster, twenty-two years old, a political science major. She was texting on her smartphone and not watching the road. A witness said that the car she was driving veered off the road and onto the berm, and that she overcorrected by whipping the car back onto the road and into the southbound lane. She hit you head on and died instantly."
Silence falls between us. Emily puts my hand in hers and pulls it up to her lips. She closes her eyes. Tears squeeze out and run down her cheeks.
"The emergency response reached the scene in less than five minutes, which is what saved your life. They had to cut you out of the Honda. Your body was in shock. Your brain was bleeding. They airlifted you here for emergency treatment."
"Where is here?"
"Cleveland Clinic."
"As in Cleveland, Ohio?"
"Yes."
"This isn't Leland Memorial?"
"No it's not. Why would you say that? I've never heard of Leland Memorial."
"It's in Riverdale, Maryland."
"Why Leland Memorial? Why Maryland?"
"Emily, what has happened to me? Please, you've got to tell me what's going on."
"I just told you, Jason, I-"
A heavyset nurse enters the room, announcing that she's here to draw blood, check vitals and schedule my first dosage of oral medication. Progress. She checks my dressings and makes notes. She asks me how I'm doing. About the pain. About my memory. She asks follow-up questions and makes more notes. She tells me that Dr. Smithson is on the floor. He's making his rounds and should be stopping by shortly. Emily jokes that shortly means three hours. They share a laugh. They share a hug. Finally, we're alone again.
I grip Emily's wrist, pull her close. "I'm not Jason Schuler. I don't live in Ohio, I live in Landover, Maryland. Something has happened to me, I don't know what, and I'm not talking about a car wreck."
"You're scaring me. Where is all of this coming from?"
"You think you're scared? You didn't wake up in a strange place, in a roomful of strangers, and in another person's mangled body."
"I think I should go get the doctor."
"Please, listen to me. I know this is confusing. Do you know who Len Bias is?"
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I'd never heard that name until you said it yesterday."
"He's an All-American basketball player. He just finished his senior season at the University of Maryland. He was just drafted by the Boston Celtics. Emily, that person is me. Me. I'm Len Bias."
Emily gathers herself, takes time to let the full effect of my words soak in. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Doesn't take her eyes off of mine.
"Your name is Jason Schuler. You grew up in the same farmhouse you live in now. You played high school basketball for Waynedale, you played college basketball for Wooster. You were twenty-four when we met, I was twenty-one. I moved away, you stayed put. I ended up getting married to a very insecure man who tried to control every facet of my life. You married the game of basketball and took the head coaching job at your college alma mater. My husband beat me, I escaped and ended up moving back home to take care of aging parents. Basketball tried to beat you - you were fired as the coach at Wooster, so you took the head coaching job at Waynedale High School and you've been there ever since. My brother Mark thought we'd hit it off, so he plotted and schemed and finally figured out a way to get us both on that Amish country tour, sticking us together on that train for nearly two hours. We fell in love that afternoon. You proposed three months later, and we loved each other so much that we were married a month after that. We live in that old farmhouse, we have a golden retriever named Marcellus, and on August 1st we'll celebrate our six year anniversary. I love you more than anything in this world, Jason Schuler, and you've loved me since the moment we met. So no, I don't know who Len Bias is, and I don't care. All I care about is that you're alive. You're going to get better, and I'm going to help you."
