I caught the football.
I know I did because I still had a death grip on it when I opened my eyes. I was lying on a hospital bed and my best friend Jim-Bob Wheaten was standing by my side, looking concerned. He told me later that when the Dixon County linebacker hit me at the goal line, everybody thought I was dead. Still, there was celebrating in the stands because the first pass I caught all season resulted in a touchdown and a win over arch rival Dixon County. People in Wolf County, Texas love football even if it sometimes means sacrificing the lives of their young men.
"You're a hero, Longfellow," Jim-Bob told me excitedly. "They're talking about giving you the keys to the city."
"That would be great," I said, "but there aren't that many doors in Last Chance."
"Huh?" Jim-Bob said.
I had grown up in the area around the town of Last Chance, Texas. Years ago Last Chance had a Sears store but it had closed and now it pretty much consisted of the Alamo Café, a dollar store, a feed store, and a closed-up topless bar. It was once said that Charlie Goodnight watered cattle near Last Chance but if he did, the cattle drank all the water. It was also rumored that during the turbulent years of raids across the border, even the Apaches avoided Last Chance because it was too damn depressing.
"I don't even think the doors have locks," I said.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jim-Bob asked. "They keys to the city are symbolic. They're not real. And why are you talking so funny?"
I wasn't sure what I was saying myself, and I knew I sounded funny. My voice sounded a little like the deep, subdued cadence of the local Methodist Pastor, and not like an eighteen year old high school senior. And all my thoughts were jumbled around in my head along with flashes of memory of the biggest, ugliest human being I had ever seen in a football uniform rushing at me like a freight train. I vaguely remembered thinking the last thing on earth I would ever do was catch a football as the perfectly thrown spiral hit me in the chest at almost the same time as the linebacker.
"You doctor's down the hall talking to your Dad," Jim-Bob said. "He says you're going to be okay but he wants to keep you for observation overnight. "
"I've got to take the train in the morning," I said.
"Huh," Jim-Bob said again.
"Yeah, I hear it coming around the bend," I said.
"Oh hell," Jim-Bob said.
I still sounded like a preacher or a college professor and Jim-Bob looked even more concerned. He left the room hurriedly and returned with a tall, skinny man who looked about fifteen years old and had a stethoscope. There was a man in overalls behind him.
"Jim-Bob tells me you think you're Johnny Cash," the man with the stethoscope said.
"Who's Johnny Cash," I said.
He didn't answer me but he put a light in my eyes, my ears and mouth, and then he listened to my heartbeat with his stethoscope. I still thought he looked fifteen. Also his nose looked too big for his face. I told him so. The doctor shook his head.
"I thought you said he would be fine," the man in overalls said.
"He will be. Physically, he's fine. There's some heavy bruising but nothing broken, but he suffered a pretty bad concussion and right now the sedative the paramedics gave him and the concussion are working together to confuse his thoughts. He's probably going to have a really bad headache when the sedative wears off but the confusion will clear up. Right now it's a little bit like he's had a stroke and he's liable to say anything that comes to mind. He'll be okay in the morning and we'll keep a close eye on him tonight."
"How much is this going to cost, doctor," the man in overalls said.
"School insurance will pay all the bills, don't worry about that."
I wondered who the man was and why he was worried about bills. He walked to my bedside and put a hand on my shoulder. His fingers gripped like iron. He looked as tough as a Texas cactus. When he left, I asked Jim-Bob who he was.
"You don't recognize your own Dad," Jim-Bob said, alarm in his voice. "Doctor, he doesn't know his Dad."
"Get a grip," the doctor said. "He's going to be fine. I understand some of your teammates are over celebrating at the Alamo Café. You should join them. Wolf County hasn't won a football game this year and there might be some appreciative cheerleaders hanging around."
At the thought of appreciative cheerleaders Jim-Bob's look brightened. He did give me one more sympathetic nod but appreciative cheerleaders win over childhood friendships every time. He was gone almost before the doctor finished speaking.
"Now I want you to try and get some rest," the doctor told me.
"Who the hell is Johnny Cash," I said, and he left... laughing.
Hospitals are places where they wake you up to give you pills to put you to sleep. I still had confusing thoughts when I opened my eyes again. This time a woman was leaning over me. She had a name tag that read Dixie. It was very near my nose, along with her enormous breasts.
"You have breasts," I said.
She jumped back from the bed a little and her face burned bright red.
"Of course I do," she said. "Girls have breasts."
"Not like yours," I said. "Those are huge."
"Men," she said. "Even with a concussion."
"And you smell like vanilla," I said.
"You never mind how I smell," she said. She giggled like a teenage girl. The giggle was irritating but I looked over it given the fact she was a petite woman with breasts that were too big for her frame stuffed into a starched white uniform that seemed a size too small. When she moved down to the end of the bed to pour water from a plastic container into a plastic glass, I noticed the other side of her looked nice too.
"Now drink some water and take these pills," she said. "The doctor said it will help your headache."
'I have a headache?" I questioned.
