Hometown Favorite: A Novel (45 page)

Dewayne watched as the nurse wrapped his blue teddy bear
in protective plastic before reentering the operating room and
setting it on top of one of the monitors.

"It'll be here when you wake up;" she said, and Dewayne
nodded his approval.

His body was scrubbed and disinfected with some foulsmelling stuff that reminded him of the locker room, and he
began to imagine his teammates and coaches ... the stadium,
the fans, and the noise such a throng could produce ... the smell
of the grass on the field ... his running plays ... the quarterback
calling the signals ... the team spread across the scrimmage
line ... his legs carrying him at superhuman speed ... the ball
sailing overhead and his hands stretched out to receive it ...
Colby Stewart bowing in veneration as he ran past him into
the end zone ... the operating theater being on the fifty-yard
line and a stadium full of people hushed and watching. He
imagined his mother, his son, Bruce and Sabrina watching ...
Rosella, Jake, and Detective Hathaway pacing in his hospital
room. Just before the orderly had wheeled him away, Rosella
kissed him. He imagined the kiss, the moisture, the warmth.
He imagined the "I love you" he had heard her say as he rode
the gurney out the door.

He imagined her words on a continual loop before he imagined himself in peaceful sleep.

"Dewayne, heads-up;' Jake said.

Dewayne sat in the recliner in the living room. He twisted
his head from watching the Stars' first game of the season to
the direction of the voice coming from the kitchen. He caught
sight of the missile flying in his direction just as Rosella came
around the corner carrying a bowl of popcorn. She gasped and
almost dropped the bowl when she saw what Jake had done.

Without thought, without hesitation, and although without his former speed, Dewayne's left hand rose in the air and
stopped the ball in midflight. The nose of the ball smacked
into the palm of his hand, and Dewayne caught it off the
bounce, juggled it, but still held on. He had had several of
those catches in his football career. He stared at the ball in his
hands. He smelled the pigskin. He rubbed his fingertips over
the pebbly texture of the orb. He smelled it again. He tossed
the ball in the air above his head and caught it. He smelled it
again. He tossed the ball from hand to hand and smelled it
again. He tossed it back to Jake and returned to watching the
game without saying a word.

Seconds later, eyes still focused on the game, he raised his
hand in the air and snapped his fingers. Jake hurled the ball
again, and this time the catch was one-handed, no juggle, no bobble. He had not looked at the ball. He tucked the pass into
his side opposite the teddy bear.

"You're ready for a press conference;" Jake said. "I'm calling
Memphis."

The first operation had gone better than expected, and instead
of waiting several weeks for the second phase, Dr. Macy pushed
up the time frame to burn out remaining cancerous cells around
the edges that might have escaped the primary heat blast.

Between the two operations, the reorganized family of three
had focused their efforts on rebuilding Dewayne's strength
and putting some weight on him. His appetite had begun to
return, and though he could not eat big meals, he ate three or
four small meals a day.

Once released after the first surgery, Jake and Rosella drove
him back to Memphis every other day to monitor his condition. This process was exhausting but preferable to staying in
the hospital, and for Dewayne, being out in the world even
on this limited basis was a boost to his well-being. After the
second operation, Dr. Macy told him he could have ten days
off before the next visit.

"Jake, are you sure he's ready to talk to reporters?" Rosella
asked.

"Doctors need a CAT scan. I've just had my proof."

Dewayne never took his eyes off the television, and when the
Stars scored their first touchdown, he flung the teddy bear in
the air while tightening his hold on the football and tucking it
deeper into his side.

Dr. Macy spent the first part of the press conference giving a
detailed description of the operations performed on Dewayne's
tumor, ending with the announcement that the CAT scans taken that morning showed no signs of cancerous cells in the
affected area. It was premature to say Dewayne was cancer free.
He would undergo scheduled examinations for an extended
period. Medical history, medical miracle, medical advancement
were terms Dr. Macy used in describing the success of this
operation, and given Dewayne's age and physical condition
prior to the onset of the tumor, Dr. Macy predicted he should
be able to resume a normal life in a short period of time.

"Does it mean he can play football again?" one reporter
blurted out.

"We have done our job in giving Mr. Jobe his opportunity to
play football or anything else he wants to do," Dr. Macy said.
"It's up to him to decide."

When Dr. Macy sat down, the room erupted with questions
for Dewayne. The media had come from all over the country,
and not just the usual suspects from the world of sports. Reporters who covered other areas of interest from the medical,
financial, political, and entertainment fields were present, eager
to make headlines for their readers.

Dewayne cast his eyes over the room in search of Winston
Garfield for the Springdale Leader. Amidst the waving arms, the
flashing camera lights, and the shouted demands for Dewayne's
attention, the gray-haired gentleman sat in the back smiling
at Springdale's favorite son. He did not need to ask a question.
He did not even have his hand raised. When Dewayne found
him, he smiled and nodded his head in Garfield's direction. Mr.
Garfield stood and waited for Dewayne to acknowledge him.

"Mr. Garfield, thank you for coming," Dewayne said. "What's
your question?"

"Mr. Jobe, you have been through a great ordeal in recent
months," Mr. Garfield said. "You seem to be coming out on the
other side. As a survivor, what are your thoughts?"

Dewayne looked at Dr. Macy. He looked at Rosella and Jake
standing by the door. He lowered his head, reached inside his
sport coat, and removed the teddy bear. He set it on the edge of
the table in front of him but did not let go of it. He looked again at
Rosella. Her smile helped him release this prized possession.

"It was my son's. It goes everywhere with me. It reminds me
of my loss. I never want to forget all that I have lost. A little
over a month ago I came in to see Dr. Macy in a wheelchair. I
was a broken man. Today I was able to walk into the hospital
under my own power, on my own two legs, but the truth is,
I'm still a broken man. In some ways, I guess I'll always be
broken. I cannot fathom the mysteries of God. They are deeper
... deeper than the grave that cradles my son. Could I blame
God? Yes. Could I reject him? Yes. Could I curse him and die?
Yes. There were times when dying would have been the easiest
thing to do. But I'm still here.

"Before this time I thought I was powerful, but human power
is nothing. I cannot give you an explanation as to what I have
survived. No account would do it justice. And I don't have a
tangible or logical answer about why. I will never know why.
I'm not sure I want to know. I do know were it not for Detective
John Hathaway, my friend Jake Hopper, Dr. Macy and his team,
and my wife, Rosella, I would never have made it. But beyond
the support of these people, there was something that held on
to me, something that carried me, something that would not
let me go when I was at my lowest point, begging for my life
to be over. I don't know what else to call it but a hope that God
would not abandon me, a hope that even though I longed to
die, I should still trust in him. What I have survived, I wish on
no one, and I don't know why I'm still here, but I am. I choose
to live, to live the best I can, holding on to my hope in God"

Except for the resonance of dozens of human beings shifting their bodies in a cramped room, there was no other sound.
No camera lights flashing, no conversing, no verbal claims for
Dewayne's notice. Mr. Garfield remained standing.

"A follow-up question, Mr. Jobe, if I may," Mr. Garfield said, and
Dewayne nodded his permission. "If Dr. Macy says you can play
football again, is it possible you might return to the game?"

Dewayne chuckled, causing a slight tremor in his body. He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the smell of the football Jake had passed to him in the living room still a poignant
memory. He opened his eyes and studied his hands, watching
his long fingers contract and release, then he focused his attention on Winston Garfield.

"With God all things are possible"

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you leave
here?" another reporter shouted, unwilling to wait for Dewayne's
acknowledgment.

"Go visit the grave of my son"

Franklin and Joella remained at the car while Dewayne and
Rosella walked through the cemetery toward the graves of Sabrina, Bruce, and Robert Dewayne Jobe III. The ride from the
airport had been solemn. When they got out of the car at the
cemetery, Franklin and Joella exited with them. They poured
their hearts out to Dewayne and Rosella, begging Dewayne's
forgiveness for thinking him a monster. Three grandchildren
had unexpectedly come into their lives, and just as the bonds
were forming and they were solidifying their roles as grandparents, life cruelly took those children from them. As for Bonita,
they had no idea where she was. Once she learned what had
happened, she disappeared, and no amount of searching had
brought her back to them. It was just the four of them left. This was the last of their family, and they would do anything they
could to preserve it.

Rosella laid the bouquet of flowers at the base of the headstone. "Robert Dewayne Jobe III. Resting in God's hands"

"I'm trying to remember the last time I held him in my
arms;" Dewayne said. "And I can't. I can't."

He had not cried so hard since the day in the glass booth when
Rosella hurled the rings at him and fled the room. Everything
came back. Everything flowed through him. He felt himself the
conduit for all the sorrow of the world, for his world lay shattered
and buried at his feet. Exhaustion and anguish brought him to
his knees, and Rosella knelt beside him. Franklin and Joella
turned their backs to the scene, unable to watch their son-inlaw's grief, their own grief still too raw to absorb another's.

He apologized. Repeatedly, he apologized to the children.
Over and over again, he asked for their forgiveness. Over and
over again, he pleaded for strength just to inhale. Over and over
again, he swore he would never forget them; he would carry
their memories with him until he joined them. Over and over
again, he begged for the mercy he felt had been so elusive.

When he had spent himself, Rosella helped him to his feet.
They looked at the three headstones, the representations of
their shared loss, and the empty vessel that was Dewayne Jobe
began to fill up.