CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The reality of my return to prison occurred about the same time the electronic lock of my cell door clicked solidly into place. I sat on my cot and stared at my surroundings. Not much had changed. My life in sixty-four-square feet. They’d removed my anklet when I arrived, which was a strange sensation. Free but not.

Wood said that an anonymous tip had alerted authorities to my relationship with Dee. Evidence of this was the unedited video coverage of our workouts. The same I’d seen in the DVD taped to my door. Wood explained the case against me was open and closed. His experience with me and videos was not good, so he suggested I plead guilty. I told him that I was and that I intended to. He said that, by statute, the judge would rule that I serve out the remainder of my first sentence and add to that another ten years for every infraction of my parole. Given the video, we both knew what that meant.

The morning after our workout, the athletic director, along with many of the boosters at St. Bernard’s, had a rather short meeting with Damon. Dee was named the starting quarterback. Debbie had dropped any and all charges against Dee regarding the food he gave me. Now that it was proven the food had been expired, his boss even offered him his job back. In the month after my return to prison, the first three games of the season came and went. Dee played well beyond our expectations. Last Friday night Dee threw six touchdown passes and ran for three more. Street & Smith’s had him ranked in their top twenty, and he was climbing weekly. Cut from the tether of rejection that anchored him to his past, he’d blossomed, proving Audrey right.

Every soul has an anchor.

I had not let Dee come see me because I felt that seeing me in here would be too tough on him. Okay, too tough on me. I didn’t know how I would live out the rest of my days in this steel box. I hadn’t come to grips with that. I just knew that I’d been let out for a reason. That reason was to find Audrey and love what and who she loved: Dee. And I’d done that. And something in me found great pleasure in having done so. I cannot explain that. All I know was that when they shut that prison door behind me, I was lonely and there was a piercing pain in my heart, but I wasn’t angry.

Maybe the only comfort I had was knowing that Audrey would be okay. That day at the field, I saw relief in her. And release. Wood has been sitting next to her at all of Dee’s games, shaking a penny-filled milk jug right alongside her. He told me that she looked better, not so gaunt. No black circles under her eyes. Even gained a few pounds. And that every time he saw her, she was wearing the dove—not hiding it. I was glad about that. Really. He said she’d been working some in the garden. She’d shown him the recreation of the play, even showed him his likeness on the field. He’d laughed. He said she was making some changes. Even planted a young oak tree next to the wall.

I don’t know what happened that last day on that field. I would not say that Audrey grew to trust me, nor would I say that she had forgiven me for what she believed I’d done. But she learned to live with it. She saw what I did for Dee and while that did not erase the past, it made the memory of it not so painful. The torment was gone.

Gage appeared at seven p.m. with a transistor radio and folding chair. He sat on one side of the bars, and I lay on my bunk on the other. We rested the radio between us. Several of the guys around me leaned against their walls and listened. Fourth game of the season and it was homecoming. St. Bernard scored early and often and, from the sound of things, Dee was in control of everything around him. In the second quarter, the announcer said that he just learned there were over forty college scouts in the stands. I smiled. Word had spread. It’d worked.

At halftime the seniors paraded across midfield. Dee had asked Audrey to walk with him. I’d like to have seen that. As each senior began the walk with their folks, or whomever they’d chosen to walk them out, the announcer spoke about the achievements of each one. When Dee and Audrey started at the goal line, the announcer attempted to speak but was drowned out by applause and stomping on the metal bleachers. I could see Dee escorting Audrey out along midfield, his helmet under one arm and Audrey locked in the other. And in my mind’s eye I could see Audrey’s smile—her pride in and for him.

The announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Dalton Rogers is a graduating senior with a 4.27 GPA. For the last three years, he has stocked shelves and bagged groceries at a local grocery store. Until a few weeks ago he was unsure if he’d be able to go to college…” We could hear laughter from the folks in the stands. “But with all the events of the last few weeks, he now has over fifty Division I offers to choose from. Dalton is, as of today, Street & Smith’s number one high school pick in the nation.” At this point, the applause drowned out the announcer. When he was able to continue, he said, “But Dalton says while he is grateful for that, he is more grateful to the two people who made it happen, Audrey and Matthew Rising.” There was no applause this time. Just silence. “Dalton says that he was orphaned as a child and left at St. Bernard’s. He has no memory of his biological parents, and St. Bernard’s is the only home he’s ever known.” In the background, we heard a high-toned whistle and somebody screaming, “Dalton, we love you!” The announcer again, “Mama Audrey, as he calls her, helped raise him. She’s the closest thing to a mother he’s ever known. She taught him how to read, tie his shoes, and throw a football. He says the two of them, thanks to her extensive video collection, have watched over a thousand hours of video analyzing the quarterback play of Matthew Rising.” The announcer paused and said, “As an aside, I’m told you can ask Dalton about any game in the Rocket’s career and he can tell you what plays were run, where, and the score of each game. He says that while he has watched countless hours of video, and heard the stories and rumors and legends of Matthew Rising, it was only this past summer that he got to know him when Matthew was paroled from prison. He credits Audrey with teaching him the mechanics of football, and in a large sense, making him the quarterback he is today. Without her, he’d not be here, but he says it was not until he met ‘the Rocket’ that he fell in love with the game on a deeper level and learned how to play it out of his heart and not his head. He says he realizes folks may not understand that, but Matthew taught him how to play out of what he loved, and not what he hated or what he feared. He says if it weren’t for Mama and the Rocket, he’d not be here tonight, and, with their permission, he’d like to dedicate this season to them.”

There was silence in the announcer’s box. In the background, a single clap started. The radio announcer picked up on the source. “Folks, that single clap you hear is Dunwoody Jackson, Matthew Rising’s former center and agent. Those two have been friends a long time.” Wood’s clap was followed by a second. Joined by a third. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Soon it was raucous. The announcer said, “For you folks at home, I’ve never seen this before. Dalton Rogers has stepped away from Audrey Rising, in an attempt to give her the spotlight, so to speak, and when he did so, both sides of this stadium have taken to their feet and given her a long and loud ovation. The cameras have moved in and she is surrounded on the fifty by news media and other personnel. That’s a pretty good smile right there.”

The second announcer chimed in. “And although it’s just a guess, I’d say those are tears of joy and not sorrow.”

The first announcer picked it back up. “I don’t know what Mrs. Rising is feeling at this moment, but the look on her face tells me it’s pretty good. For those of you who don’t know, Dee changed his number this year to number 8 in honor of his friend and coach, Matthew Rising. Oh look—she’s just walked over to Dee and hugged him.” A pause. “Audrey Rising has taken off the coat she was wearing to reveal that she is also wearing a number 8 jersey.” A pause. At this point, the first announcer began questioning the second. “Ken, I can’t tell for sure, but is that an older jersey that Mrs. Rising is wearing? Looks like it’s got some wear and tear on it.”

“Yep, George. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen a jersey in here like that one. It’s, I’d say, at least a decade old.” Another pause. “Folks, we’ve just received confirmation up in the press box that Audrey Rising is wearing a number 8 jersey that is more than a decade old, which could make it Matthew Rising’s jersey. And she’s just turned around where we can see the back and there are two names on the back of the jersey. The first is ‘Rising’ and the other just below it is ‘Rogers.’ Wow. That’s quite a statement. No matter what you think about the events of the past, this is a strong moment for that lady and that young man. She’s is going on record, telling everyone she believes Dalton Rogers is of the same caliber as Matthew Rising. And that’s saying a lot. During his career, she was a vocal, animated, and passionate advocate for her then husband. Even earning the name ‘Spider Monkey.’ For those of you who don’t know, Audrey Rising is, or was, I’m not quite sure, the wife of Matthew Rising. Following his trial, she disappeared and it’s only been in the last few weeks that she has resurfaced in the public eye.”

The second announcer interrupted the first. “Yeah, George, it would appear that she has spent the last decade or so of her life selflessly raising Dalton Rogers.”

George continued, “Evidently, she’s done quite a job. That lady right there has my deep respect and admiration. She did then and she does now. To know what she’s been through, and yet here she is, this is really something special.” The announcer paused while they listened to the cheer coming out of the bleachers. They let us listen while the stadium roared. One side yelled, “Dalton,” while the other side answered with “Audrey.” The announcer continued, “I’ve covered a lot of games, and I’ve never seen anything like this one. This is one for the books. Folks, we’ll be right back.”

I smiled in delight. Not because of my part in it, but because I was proud of Audrey. Especially when she, Ray, and I were the only three that knew the truth of the birth certificate. There might be a fourth, but I couldn’t be certain of that.

Gage propped his feet up on my cell bars, peeled the wrapper off a Snickers bar, handed me half, smiled, and didn’t say a word. No one did.