The Freak Pt. 05 of 05

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If there's one lesson I've learned from my dad's business it's that there are always delays. I wasn't surprised that what we hoped would be done in a week actually took almost two to complete. Twice we had to delay furniture deliveries, but, by the second week in July we were actually able to sleep in our newly renovated home. Our driveway was ready to use and we'd added a space for me to park the jeep alongside the garage. The rear yard had been fenced and our furniture was delivered and installed. There were other things we wanted to do, but they could wait. New appliances in the kitchen and new paint on the ceilings, walls, and trim were the biggest items.

We loved the new refinished floors with their almost-white maple finish, but we also wanted area rugs for color and quiet. Finding what we wanted turned out to be a breeze. Installing them was not so easy, but we managed to get it done with the help of a few neighbors.

At first they were hesitant at the idea of having two teenagers living in their midst. However, a major thaw occurred at an afternoon party one neighbor had, supposedly to welcome us, but in reality to check us out. There was a keg and everyone helped themselves to plenty of beer--everyone except Barbara and me. When asked we simply explained that we weren't drinkers. We were serious students and I was a serious athlete. We weren't into parties although we might invite a few friends to visit--but only a few.

Of course, we were asked why we were married at such a young age so I asked if they had ever heard about St. Claudia's School in Yonkers. Apparently, they had because the conversation went from a dull roar to dead quiet in a second. One neighbor commented that he never did believe those allegations and he continued his comments until I excused myself so I could walk home, returning a few minutes later with the photos of Barbara's back. "Take a good look and tell me how this happened. These marks weren't self-inflicted. Barbara lived through this hell and I worked with the police to get them to admit their roles in the actual whipping and the cover-up conspiracy. They couldn't wait to brag about how they had beaten girls just to keep the others under control. And then there was the theft of girls' jewelry like Barbara's engagement ring that cost me more than $2500."

Then one of the women opened the envelope and when she looked at the first photo she fell to her knees, throwing up all of the beer she had consumed. Everyone stood stock still, shocked by what had happened, except me. I took three quick steps to help the woman who I barely knew to her feet, wiping her face with cold water from the ice-filled tub holding the keg. Her husband picked up the photos and returned them to the envelope. "You have to understand; we're all Catholic. It was hard for us to believe. The priests all said it was a bunch of lies."

"We do understand. It would have been hard for us to believe, too, except that we lived it. I married Barbara then so she could attend school with me. There was no way in hell that I would allow her to return to school there. Barbara's an orphan. Her foster parents didn't believe until they saw the photos either. They would have forced her to go back into that hellhole of a school. Would you want your wife to have to deal with something like that? I don't think so. You also know why we're Lutherans now."

I was ready to leave and I would have had two of the women not asked us to stay. "It's obvious that we all made a serious error of judgment. We hope you'll forgive us." Of course, we did. We stayed at the party and had a good time, but the photo envelope remained closed and the conversation never touched that subject again.

When asked about our new fence I explained that I planned to play both basketball and baseball at Harvard and that meant that I would be away for several nights during the season. I didn't want Barbara to be here alone. The choices for her protection were either a gun or a dog. The dog won. That led to a discussion of my athletic abilities. I said nothing about them. I didn't have to. Barbara was gushing, and the men joined her as soon as she said the words "All-American."

There are lots of animal shelters in the greater Boston area and we visited several during the following week before finding what we wanted--a female lab mix about a year old. This one had come from a home in which an elderly widow had passed away leaving the dog to be taken into the shelter. Her name was Kelly and she bonded almost immediately with Barbara, licking her hands and wagging her tail wildly. She was already more than forty pounds and she still had a long way to go. We took her to a vet to have her checked out and spayed then she became an integral part of our family.

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We had almost everything other than painting done by the third week in July so I mentioned to Barbara that I needed a workout at the Harvard gym. "I need to shoot once in a while to keep my skills sharp. Want to come and rebound for me?" Barbara bared her teeth and flexed her biceps as she agreed. I grabbed my ball and dressed a practice shirt, shorts and jock with a towel, socks and sneakers and head and wrist bands in my gym bag along with a tee, briefs, and shorts in case I could find a shower. We put Kelly out as we always did whenever we left the house and locked up once she was back in. We took the Jeep and fifteen minutes later we were parked and walking to the admissions office. I would have gone directly to the gym if only I had known where to go. Harvard is a big place and it's spread out in various areas of Cambridge.

We spoke to Mrs. Atkins who told us to go to the Stadium to see the Athletic Director. She produced another map and circled the location. It wasn't far so ten minutes later we walked into the office. I saw the secretary so Barbara and I walked up to the desk. "Hi, I'm Jack French."

"Who?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You know I could have gone to Notre Dame or Stanford and I kind of suspect they'd know who I am, but I guess not at Harvard."

Just then a silver-haired man who looked fit in spite of his age walked out from the inner office. "You're Jack French? Great to meet you; ignore Irene, she's a great secretary, but she doesn't know much about sports." That's how I met the Athletic Director. I introduced him to Barbara then he led us into his office.

I explained why we were here, asking about getting my ankles taped, too. He volunteered to show us where to go, saying that there were trainers working in the stadium now because some of the football players were working out on the field during the summer. He also suggested that I use the Hemenway Gym if I wanted to work out. It was only a few minutes before he had walked us into the trainers' room adjacent to the men's locker room. I wasn't surprised to see two trainers working there--one male and one female. He introduced me and told them to tape me or provide whatever services I needed whenever I asked. After shaking hands he was gone and I climbed onto a padded table. They taped me exactly the way I wanted, and much tighter than I could do on my own. Megan, the female trainer showed us a shorter way to the parking lot and I followed the directions to the gym on what the locals called "Mass Ave."

There were four guys playing two-on-two at one end of the court so I led Barbara to the opposite end. I did some stretching exercises to loosen up then I started with some layups and short shots, rebounding any misses or just tipping them in. After almost ten minutes I started to shoot from farther out with Barbara catching the balls that went through the net and passing them out to me.

I had really warmed up, hitting twelve in a row when I heard one of the guys say that he had to go to work. I was asked if I'd fill in and agreed, meeting my soon-to-be teammate Ryan and opponents Phil and Mike. We started play and I had a problem almost immediately with Phil. I had taken a jump shot and as I did he jabbed me in the stomach. He didn't hurt me, but I've seen guys lose their balance from such tactics, injuring an ankle or a knee or even their back by falling. I made the shot so I told him, "Don't do that again."

"Oh yeah; what are you going to do about it?" I let it slide then, but he did it three more times even though I repeatedly told him not to. In fact, he became more aggressive, bordering on arrogant, almost punching my stomach the last time. I'd had enough.

I set up on the left side low post, signaling my teammate for the ball. Head faking right, I took one dribble followed by a single long stride across the lane, the ball secure in my huge hand. Rather than take the hook shot I moved the ball along in a graceful arc, my right hand moving rapidly across the lane as I pivoted and brought the ball up even with the height of the basket. I'd made this move and taken this shot hundreds of times so I knew there was no way to block it, but that didn't stop Phil from jabbing me once again. This time I was ready and as I finished the pivot I brought my left elbow forcefully into his solar plexus. He grunted, totally out of breath, as he fell back hard on his ass. I leaned down, whispering as I did, "I guess you now know what I'll do about it, don't you?" I thanked the others for the game and walked off the court to Barbara.

"What was that all about, Jack?"

"He was jabbing me in the gut every time I shot the ball and he refused to stop. I've seen guys get hurt from that. They lose their balance and fall. It's a dangerous play...dirty, too. He asked what I'd do about it."

"I think he knows now, doesn't he?"

I kissed Barbara as we stepped outside. "Yes," I said. "I think he does."

I returned to the training room again two days later and I wasn't at all surprised when the AD strode in while I was being taped. "One question, Jack; are you a dirty player?"

"If I had to guess I'd say you were speaking with Phil about his badly bruised chest."

"Indeed I was. He's a starting forward on our varsity."

"Then he should know better than to jab an opponent's abdomen when he takes a shot. Not only is that a foul, but it's a great way to really hurt someone. I'm not a dirty player, Sir, but I also won't allow myself to be abused. He jabbed me four times and four times I told him not to do it again. His response was, 'what are you going to do about it?' Now he knows, except the next time I won't allow him to do it four times before I retaliate. By the way, I doubt he would have made my high school varsity--definitely not as a starter. I hope the rest of the team is better."

"Not surprisingly he left his part out of it. I told him I'd speak with you and I have. I promise you I'll speak with him, too." I shrugged my shoulders. I really didn't care. Barbara and I had the gym to ourselves and I spent a good hour dribbling and shooting with both hands. I finished by doing some line drills. Most players hate line drills, but they're a great way to get into shape for the season. I also resolved to do some serious running before school started.

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I had never realized how much we would need when we bought the house. Besides furniture we needed sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, dishes, glasses, pots and pans, ice trays--just to name a few. It seemed that we went shopping almost every day that first month. But that stopped the last week in July. I had promised Carole that she could come for a visit and that time was now.

My mother had driven Carole, now all of nine, to the Islip MacArthur Airport for a flight to Boston's Logan Field. We were waiting at the gate when the plane began to empty. After talking to the gate staff I knew that she would be among the last to leave the plane and that she would be accompanied by one of the stewardesses. Sure enough, Carole walked up the gangway dragging her suitcase in the company of a beautiful woman and I would have been tempted had I not found Barbara. I showed my passport as a formality even as Carole was hugging Barbara and we left, walking slowly as the Big C told us all about her incredible flight.

"What are we going to do first, J.J.?"

"Well...I think we need to get some lunch and then we'll take you to our home to meet Kelly."

"Who's Kelly?"

"She's the latest member of our family."

"Barbara had a baby?"

I couldn't help myself. I laughed my ass off. "No, Big C...that takes a bit more than a month or two. You'll see. We want it to be a surprise." We left the airport a few minutes later and drove all the way to Somerville where we stopped at a sub shop where I ordered one large Italian sub, asking for one of the usual three parts to be cut in half. These were big--really big--subs; almost three feet long with Italian cold cuts and provolone cheese, lettuce and tomato and onion, oil and vinegar, oregano and salt and pepper. They actually tasted even better than they looked. We sat at one of the small tables with sodas and our sandwiches. This was one of the first places we'd found after moving in and it was one of the best, too.

We left with half of Carole's sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap and drove home. "I think you need to stay here on the lawn," I told Carole, "and let Kelly come to you." Kelly bolted from the door with her usual greeting until she saw Carole then she ran up to sniff her. Carole was ecstatic. She had wanted a dog, but Mom had always said no. She held her hand out. There were dogs in our neighborhood so she knew what to do. A minute later she was hugging and petting Kelly like they were old friends

We showed Carole to our guest room with Kelly on our heels then we let Carole go out into the back yard to play with Kelly and her ball. I made her stop an hour later so Kelly could rest and have a healthy drink of water. Then we went inside to relax and watch some TV.

We spent the week of Carole's visit doing just about everything we could in the Boston area. Carole may have been about to enter fourth grade, but she was a very bright girl who loved to learn. She enjoyed walking the Freedom Trail, checking out the tombstones at the Old North Church. I wasn't at all surprised that she knew just about every one of the patriots buried there. We went to see the USS Constitution--Old Ironsides--but I stayed on deck while Barbara and Carole went below. Those lower decks weren't built for someone with my height.

We spent a day checking out several museums in the city along with the Mapparium in the Mary Baker Eddy Library. The Mapparium is a large globe of the earth in 1935 made of stained glass. What is truly unique is that you can walk through the interior of the globe and the acoustics are incredible. I whispered at one end of the walkway and everything I said could be clearly heard at the other end. Carole was amazed. So was Barbara, for that matter. The next day we drove to Plymouth to see the Mayflower recreation and Plimouth Plantation, a recreation of the Pilgrims' original settlement.

Our final day was spent at Fenway, sitting in the right field bleachers and cheering for the Yankees. We weren't alone. There seemed to be as many New York fans as there were for Boston. That was the year of the M and M boys--Mantle and Maris--and their chase to beat the Babe's home run record. Personally, I thought the Mick would do it. He was ahead of Maris with 54 homers when he was injured early in September. Too soon it was time for the Big C to fly home, but we did promise to visit in Long Island over the Labor Day weekend. We had some business to attend to.

My friend Wilson had an older sister who had married a highly regarded contractor. I had spoken to him several times on the phone about building a home for us on our lot on the bluff. He promised to have several house plans for us to look at while we were there.

We drove south on the Tuesday before Labor Day, catching the ferry at Mystic, Connecticut to Orient Point at the very end of the North Shore of Long Island. From there the ride was just about an hour long. Traveling with a dog was a bit different--we stopped once on the road south and again once we were in Orient Point.

Kelly was a big hit on the ferry where she was approached by every kid on board. A few were initially afraid, but warmed up to her once I jammed my arm into her mouth to prove she wouldn't bite. I always held her tightly by the collar even though I knew the kids were perfectly safe. Once I had driven off the ferry, we stopped by the side of the road so I could take Kelly for a brief walk. I carried a small garden trowel and a brown paper lunch bag, just in case she left a mess.

The roads in this part of the Island are narrow two-lane secondary roads with low speed limits and frequent no-passing zones, but the traffic is typically light. I headed west until I ran into Route 25A. It runs along the North Shore all the way from Queens to Riverhead, the Suffolk County seat. From Riverhead the bungalow was only a half-hour away. There was no driveway so I drove onto the lawn, parking next to Mom's car, just before lunch. Carole and my other sisters ran out to see us and Kelly was excited to see them, as well. All the same, I slipped her leash onto the collar before letting her out. She sniffed Marie and Angela then licked Carole's face as I handed her the leash's handle. She ran off, leading our pet into the house. Barbara was laughing. "Quite a welcome, eh?"

"Pretty much what I expected; they've wanted a dog for years, but my mom always said no. Maybe she'll change her mind one of these days." I leaned across the seat and we kissed. Unfortunately, that was all we'd be able to do over the next week unless we walked down to the beach late at night, maybe for an evening swim. Hmmm, that was a really good idea.

I carried our suitcase and Kelly's bed into the house while Barbara handled her food and bowls. I dumped the bottle of water that we'd brought for her onto the lawn after closing up the car. We never locked anything here, not even the front door when we left for the beach or shopping. I dropped everything in what used to be my room while Barbara set up Kelly's bowls in the kitchen.

We changed into our suits and walked down to the beach after lunch. Mom was really old-school, insisting that none of us swim for at least an hour after eating even though I had debunked that as an old wives tale for years. Once again, my experiences at the public library had proven fruitful. My research had turned up more than a dozen articles--some scholarly--on the subject and all were contrary to the idea that digesting food could lead to a fatal "stomach cramp." Barbara and I joked with my sisters as we strolled down the path.

Our first trip to the beach had been in late March when the weather was cool. Today the temperature was in the mid-to-high eighties with only a light breeze. It was Barbara's first opportunity to see the beach's real appeal. Looking to the left and right from the bottom of the steps we couldn't see another living soul for almost a mile. The water was glass flat and the tide was coming in. I liked low tide for snorkeling and spear-fishing, but there were lots of rocks--some as big as a foot across only eight to ten feet from shore at low tide. There were only tiny pebbles and sand to walk on at high tide. However, I knew from experience that stepping on those tiny objects would hurt like hell once our feet were wet and the skin was soft. That's why I had told Barbara to wear flip-flops to and from the water.

We had just placed the blanket onto the sand when Barbara smiled at me and said, "I can see why you love it here, Jack. I can't believe that the water is so clear and clean."

"It should be exactly like this every day unless the wind shifts and we get a nor'easter. Then the water will be rough and cloudy for a day or two. I'd have to say that high tide will be around four today. That means it will be later at night by the weekend. We can come down after dinner and go for a swim. It's only safe at high tide because of the rocks. Of course, there are other things we could do here on the beach...alone...together...in the dark."