LEN BIAS: CROSSOVER
A novel
By: Michael D. McClellan | September 19, 2010
Emily reaches into her purse and returns with a small electronic device. It's thin, black, sleek. She presses a button and the glass screen lights up. She touches the screen several times and the images on the glass change. A numeric keypad appears, and below it a green CALL button. She hands it to me.
"What's this?"
"My smartphone. You have one just like it. You don't remember?"
"No, I've never seen anything like this before."
"Just touch the numbers on the screen and press CALL. Another screen will appear with a speaker button. Press that so we can both hear the conversation on the other end."
I tap out the numbers, amazed. There is a brief delay, and then the sound of the phone ringing on the other end. Once, twice. three times. Four.
"Hello?"
The voice on the speaker is female, young, white. A stranger's voice.
"Hello?" the stranger repeats.
Emily nods in my direction. Go ahead, she mouths silently. Talk.
"Yes, I'm trying to reach James or Lonise Bias."
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
"Isn't this 301-691-1591?"
"Yes, but there's no one at this residence by that name."
"Have I reached 745 Franklin Street? Landover, Maryland?"
"I'm not giving you my address, but this isn't Franklin Street."
"There has to be some kind of mistake."
"Goodbye."
"Wait-"
The phone goes silent. "Do you see what I mean, Jason? That person didn't know you. She'd never heard of James or Lonise Bias."
"No, this isn't right. Something's wrong. Dial the number again. Dial it from the phone on the table."
"We can't dial long distance from your room, Jason."
"Dial it!"
Emily jumps. The strength in my voice - his voice - surprises me. I slam my left fist down onto the mattress, and it's everything I can do to keep from slinging her phone across the room. Fresh pain erupts all over. I moan. My head pounds from front to back and feels like it's about to explode.
A tinge of guilt catches me just then, but something inside me swats it down before it can grow any larger. Never mind that Emily is on the verge of tears. I'm the desperate one here. This is about me. Me!
Out of nowhere, my mother's voice: Leonard, she didn't deserve that. Desperate or not, you're better than that. Your mother taught you to respect women, not raise your voice - or anything else - in anger. You should be ashamed of yourself. There are other ways.
"Emily, I'm sorry-"
"No, the doctors said that there would be times like these. They just didn't say they would happen so soon."
"That's no excuse."
"It's okay, just please try to stay calm - that's why they don't want you watching TV or using the phone or the Internet right now. Just because you're out of the coma and your pressures are good doesn't mean you can't do something to hurt your recovery."
I close my eyes and fight the pain and wonder what the Internet is. Emily makes small talk and tries to move the subject away from the throbbing inside my head. The Schuler Family Reunion has been cancelled this year after all. A no-brainer as far as she is concerned. John is reaching out to everyone, promising that they'll be the first to know when visitors are allowed to see me. Another update on Reggie Fitzgerald - the Cleveland Plain Dealer has him listed as the top high school prospect in the country. A six-eight man-child who averaged 36 points and 22 rebounds for Waynedale last season. Unlimited potential, possibly the next Michael Jordan. Always Jordan.
A nurse enters the room and introduces herself as Claire. She checks the dressing on my leg, checks the IV line feeding antibiotics into my system to prevent infection, and tells us that everything looks good so far. Dr. Abraham will be by later in the afternoon. She finishes her work leaves. I stare at the wristband on my right arm: JASON A. SCHULER. DOB: 12/17/1971. ALLERGY: NONE.
"232-75-8764."
"What?"
"That's my Social Security number. November 18,1963 - my birthday. Jay, Eric and Michelle - my brothers and sister. Do you want their birthdays, too? I can do this all day long, Emily. You can believe what you want but there's something wrong here. How can I wake from a coma and know everything about Len Bias and nothing about Jason Schuler?"
"You missed on the phone number," she says softly. "Your mind is playing tricks on you, Jason. You may not be able to see it now, but what you're saying just doesn't happen in real life. Movies and books, maybe, but not in the real world. People just don't trade places with other people like that."
"I know how crazy it sounds but I'm not making this up. I know who I am."
