That Was Then - Chapter 1

A Story by RyanRey

Jake finds himself in court and faces a very difficult decision.

A few days after the wreck, I made a mistake. That’s how the nurse phrased it after waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to a bed. A mistake. My forehead was burning, and the pressure in my skull made everything sound as though we were underwater. The nurse spoke in long, drawn out syllables. “You shouldn’t pick at them them.” She said, handing me a mirror. There were ten stitches above my eye, sewn into a bruise that was every color except that of my skin.

The stitches pulled my skin so tight that every time I blinked, my left eyebrow refused to move. So when the nurse took back the mirror and gave me a funny look, I didn’t even ask. Before she left the room, I asked what had happened the night before. Without looking at me, she pointed at the man sitting in the corner of the room. “Ask him.” She said. The man was slouched in his chair, reading a newspaper. His eyelids were dark and heavy, his hair all knots and grease. When he turned the page, I noticed the gun and badge, and it all came back to me. My question was answered.

In a small town like Desmond, word of mouth is the preferred source of news - the fastest too. Before the paper even reaches the doorstep, most people already know what it’s going to say. Around here, your business is everyone’s business. That’s why Judge Roberts never sent me to prison: She knew about the wreck. Plus, she and my mom are in the same Bible study group, and one can only imagine how awkward that would make church every Sunday.

She gave me a choice at the hearing. There were two deals. The first involved therapy and an extensive amount of community service. Two thousand hours. Other than sleeping, it’s safe to say I’ve never completed two thousand hours of anything, so when that number came out of her mouth her intention was obvious. She wanted me to take the second deal. The deal that took community service off the table and cut the amount of therapy in half. The deal my mom put her up to. The only condition, she said, was to accept the football scholarship.

It was my first time in court. The ceilings were lower than any court room I had seen on television, and everything was made out of a dark brown wood that was so chipped and splintered, it reminded me of a haunted house. Other than a few small lamps, the window to my left was the only source of light - but even then, the blinds were closed.

A security guard blocked the only exit, and every couple minutes he would let out a small sigh, like a child waiting to be let out of timeout. And for over an hour, the bailiff had a look on his face that said he was desperate to use the bathroom. No one wanted to be there any more than I did.

“It wouldn’t be right to accept the scholarship, Ma’am.”

“You made a mistake, son. These kinds of things happen.” The word made me flinch.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?” She replied.

“My family needs me home right now.”

“You do realize that this is your family’s idea, don’t you?” she said, pointing over my shoulder.

My mother whispered something from behind me, but I pretended not to hear. “Jake, please.” She said.

“College can always wait.”

“With your grades not many colleges will wait. Football is your best chance at getting a good education. Maybe your only chance.” She leaned forward on the bench and looked at me over the the brim of her glasses. Her voice began to soften and for a second she reminded me of somebody else. “Don’t throw your life away because of what happened to your brother.”

While she waited for my final answer, the room fell silent, and for a moment everything changed. The cuffs on my wrists disappeared, the court room faded away, and the blinds on the window had opened up. Outside it was snowing.

It was Christmas Eve, and Jessie was opening the first gift of the season. He tore away the wrapping paper, throwing each little piece behind him as he went. By the time he took the top off, the floor was a sea of confetti. He pulled out a gameboy and suddenly his energy disappeared. My parents exchanged a worried look, but before they could look back at him, he was already wrapped around my dad’s waist, saying they were the best parents in the world. His head barely reached my dad’s bellybutton, and I wasn’t much taller myself.

Then it was my turn. “I can pick any of them?” I asked. My mom smiled. “Of course you can.” I chose the gift with brightest wrapping paper. A junior sized football. My hand just big enough to hold it by the laces. My dad took it with two hands and spiraled it into the air. “How about tomorrow I show you how to throw it?”

“Can we open another?” Jessie asked. “Only one tonight,” my mom said, “This is going to be our new tradition.”

“Jake, what is it going to be?”

After we opened a present, we would paint glass ornaments, and listen to christmas records while my mom cooked dinner. Over time, the ornaments accumulated, and eventually we had to start cutting down bigger trees just to make room for them all. It was our only family tradition, and we stuck to it every year. Every year except for one.

“Jake?”

It was starting to rain outside.

A few weeks before the hearing my mom and I went to the mall and bought Jessie these really expensive paints. We didn’t know a thing about art, but the owner of the store was a friend of Jessie’s, and she said he would love them. The paint bottles were only a few inches tall, but my mom wrapped them in a huge box and set it at the front of the tree because she wanted Jessie to choose the paints as his one gift for the night.

My mom was priming the ornaments, getting them ready to paint, when I broke the news to her. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but Jessie and I were on the phone when it happened. When the car hit his, there was a sound of broken glass, like a chandelier shattering. Then there were voices. A girl’s voice first, and then a man’s. He was screaming at her to get back in the car.

“Son, I don’t have all day.”

Judge Roberts wasn’t going to wait any longer. She was frustrated. She needed a final answer, and I didn’t have one. Despite what she thought, no one wanted me to accept the scholarship more than I did. A football scholarship had always been the goal, and declining it would mean letting everyone down everyone who helped me earn it. Including myself.

Mom wanted me to accept. She felt the same way about living in Des that I did. She knew that, to me, football was nothing more than a way out. But that’s what she wanted for me. For her, accepting would mean living alone. The only times I could visit would be Holidays and maybe a few weekends in the off season. I just couldn’t figure things out in my head.

I thought about next Christmas, when it would be only the two of us - and about Jessie and all the things he said to me on the night he died. I thought about how he shouldn’t have been driving - he should have been at home - and if we just stuck to the tradition like we always did, he’d still be alive. And then I thought about Jessie and that big, unopened box of paints, and how my dad never did teach me to throw that damn football.

“Jake, I’m not going to ask you again.” She hit her gavel against the bench three times. The sound brought me back to the court room. I looked from the window, to Judge Roberts, and then back to the window again. The blinds were closed.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll take the community service.”

© 2013 RyanRey

Author's Note

I would like to know your first impression. Are you interested in learning more about the events that have put Jake in his current situation? Would you be interested in reading more?

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Featured Review

HobbyWriter

This is phenomenal writing. I think the intro is strong, and the beginning lines really pulled me into the story. Waiting for Jake to answer the Judge while he thinks about the past is a good use of suspense, and I definitely got caught by your proverbial "hook". When Jake finally answers my attention turned from the past to the present. How will he cope? What will the community service entail in his nosy community? I'm still wondering what he did to earn the stitches. Did he make small town enemies in his escapades?

The only problem with this piece is that I WANT TO READ THE REST OF THE STORY!!!