Chapter 17

 

I loved basketball. Back at Howes Bluff, I regularly played a game of one-on-one with Jimmy, a young friend of mine. He was so darn quick and fast. Why he deigned to play with me was beyond my comprehension, but play he did, and made a better man out of my old alcoholic self. What with all the problems in Fire Bay, I had forgotten about the good times basketball had given me. So when one of the employees mentioned a basketball game that very night, I thought, why the hell not? It was to be the Alumni against the high school team. Although it was way early in the season, the idea was to give the high school team experience for the coming regular season. Besting the Alumni team was considered a good omen.

High school gyms and courts are all pretty much alike, but that’s what makes it good in these old United States. What makes Alaskan games different from Midwest games is that because of the distances involved, the home bleachers are chock full while the visitor side is, well . . .sparse. It makes one wonder why the building doesn’t tip over.

Come seven p.m. I sat about halfway up in a bleacher seat, bag of popcorn, Coke, and Babe Ruth candy bar at the ready. The candy bar was to be used only for an emergency, like if the visitors, meaning the Alumni were five points ahead, a real disaster if there ever was one. I sat there happy as a clam, munching away, when I heard a familiar Southern accent.

“Why, hi, Leo, you mind if I sit here?”

I groaned inwardly. I had hoped this night would be a one-man show, with maybe a late-night call to Jeanette. But it was not to be; instead I put on a fake smile, and said, “Sure, Ashley. Sit down. Want some popcorn?”

“Why thank you, Leo.” She took all of five kernels in her lily-white hands with their bright red fingernails. “Don’t you love to watch all this energy? All these young men running back and forth are enough to tire a person out.”

I munched and mumbled a reply as we watched the players warming up. If she kept this up, she’d have me thinking that basketball was as ridiculous as football. 

It was then I saw an interesting sight. It was Chief Wattle pushing a wheelchair ahead of him with a small boy in it, looking for a front row seat. He found one when a home player scooted over to let the boy sit with him on the home bench. 

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know the chief had a son.”

“Yes, isn’t it a shame? I understand the medical bills are just horrendous for the poor chief. His son was injured when a car ran right over him.”

“Do tell,” I replied, and wondered how she knew that, since she was new in town.

“Yes, they’ve had banquets and various fund raising events, trying to pay the medical bills. The insurance just isn’t enough.”

As if sensing we were talking about him, the chief looked up into the crowd and waved at us. I waved back and tried to smile. I felt for him. Being the parent of such a child couldn’t be easy. Ashley gave an enthusiastic wave and a big “hi!” The chief, for his part, gave me a bemused smile and a raised eyebrow. Or was that a smirk I saw? 

I looked around to see if anyone else noticed, and it was then I saw Ms. Emily Jems just two rows back and a couple of seats over. She was dressed in her black-striped business suit and had her notepad out. I wondered which column I would be in when the weekly came out. Her black eyes caught me looking, and a small smile formed around her teeth. What the smile said, I had no idea. I turned around with a sigh and wished mightily that I was in my room reading a book.

The game was definitely not boring. By halftime, I was nearly exhausted from yelling. Ashley went berserk from time to time. She yelled at the referees with total abandonment. She was now eating my popcorn by the greedy handful. I was not so involved in the game that I didn’t notice a few looks of what I took to be amusement at this Southern newcomer. 

“Y’all can’t do that!” came through loud and clear. A couple of the refs cast an inquiring eye up into the stands a number of times. She was not hard to spot—hands on hips with that petulant little-girl look. On impulse, I turned to look up at Ms. Jems in her business suit. Her smile was now wider. Somehow, I knew there would be a comment in the local paper about the newcomer’s rowdy behavior at the Friday night game.

Halftime came and I got up to stretch my legs and to get some more popcorn. Ashley made noises about talking to some friends, which was just fine with me. I could only hope the second half would be quieter. I had no desire to be cast as the town’s bad boy. By the time I got to the restroom though, I could see that the reputation of the local Postal Service employees was already made. Winks and headshakes abounded. What the hell was Ashley trying to prove? 

On my way back to the stands, I purchased some more popcorn and another Coke. Maybe keeping her mouth full would slow her down a little. I found her back already in our seats. I took a deep breath, handed her the popcorn, and prayed she wouldn’t make such a spectacle during the second half. 

* * *

Whether it was my prayer or she was tired out, I never knew. Except for a few muttered asides to me, she was quiet as a fence post during the second half. All around us though, I could sense people looking at us from time to time, wondering when Ashley would let go. I even noticed Chief Wattle take a quick look in our direction. The game ended with the high school team winning by a few points. It had been a good game, but because of Ashley’s noise I enjoyed little of it. I gathered up my popcorn bag and stood up to leave, prepared to tell Ashley I would see her Tuesday morning, since Monday was her day off.

“Thanks for the popcorn, Leo. Say, I’m having some people over after the game. Why don’t you come?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I started to say, with Jeanette on my mind.

“Come on, Leo. You have to get out into the community, right? To show the flag and all?”

I could call Jeanette from Ashley’s. “Sure,” I said.