Ty & Cinda–A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 5

CHAPTER 15

We walked together into the school office to turn in our early dismissal note. Mrs. Roscoe laughed when she saw it. “Don’t trust him to go on his own, eh Cinda? I can’t say that I blame you. I never let my husband go on his own either. He can never remember what the doctor said. Okay, here’s your pass.” She handed Cinda the blue excuse slip and we walked out into the hallway. One of the first people I saw was Mitch. He didn’t look very happy.

“Surely you’re still not pissed about New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, but not your part. We got stopped by the cops not even five minutes after leaving your place. Jeremy was arrested for DUI and all of us were taken in for possession of alcohol by a minor. My parents had to leave a party and wow, were they pissed! I’m grounded for a month. I can’t even hang out after school. I am so fucked.”

“That’s what happens when you mess with alcohol. It might be different if you were at home, but you’re just asking for it in a car and especially on a holiday like New Year’s Eve. You can read about it in the paper or see it on TV every day. Just be glad you weren’t in an accident where someone was injured or killed. Then you’d really be fucked. C’mon, Cinda we need to get to class.”

We left school at 9:30 and were in the doctor’s office twenty minutes later. This was a big practice with eight surgeons and several physician’s assistants. The waiting room had dozens of chairs and two TV’s. As badly as I felt I realized I was lucky. There were patients in all kinds of casts including one man with both legs encased from his toes all the way up to his hips. We waited for twenty minutes before I was called to an exam room. I took Cinda by the hand and followed the nurse. I turned down her offer of a prescription for more painkillers then we waited for the doctor. Luckily, we didn’t wait long.

He handed me a plastic mask with adjustable elastic straps to go both behind and over my head. “What do you think, Ty?”

Moving it in my hands I could see that it was much too wide and much too flat for my head. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

He laughed. “That was a trick question, Ty. It won’t fit until I’ve adjusted it to your head. Watch this.” He took the mask from me, placing it on the counter. He turned on a blue light which I recognized as UV—ultraviolet. After exposing it for about five minutes he picked the mask up and held it to my face. I was amazed when it bent around my head. It fit almost perfectly when he was done. He adjusted the straps being sure to tell me—okay, to tell Cinda—not to make them too tight. He finished by checking my nose and cheek. I felt better when he told me I was making excellent progress. He gave me a note releasing me to play again. We were out the door five minutes later and back to school by 11:30.

I got a few expected laughs when I walked out to practice with my mask in place. I wore it at every practice and every game. My only problem was sweating into my eyes. I solved that by removing it and toweling off at every time out and every foul shot. We were undefeated through the regular season and into the playoffs as I had a spectacular season averaging more than 31 points and double figures in rebounding and assists, too.

We ran over the competition in the regionals and went all the way to the state finals still undefeated, this time facing a team that had a highly skilled seven-footer. Even a collapsing zone couldn’t cope with him. Kenny got into foul trouble early and we didn’t seem to have enough with him on the bench. Trailing by fourteen at the end of the third quarter we were in a huddle with our coach between quarters when I took charge. “Listen, guys—get me the ball and get the hell out of my way.” I looked around and didn’t see anyone complain so I wiped my face and returned the now familiar mask to my head.

Jason passed the ball to me to start the fourth quarter. I dribbled up court, passing my opponent with a change of pace dribble and moving toward the foul line. Instead of pulling up for a shot I charged ahead for a layup, challenging the seven-footer. I leaped to the basket, holding the ball aloft in my right hand, drawing him in for the block when I switched suddenly to my left, spinning the ball under the hoop, off the backboard and into the basket. I brought my right hand up under his arm, making contact and drawing the foul. He threw his arms up in disgust. This was going better than I’d hoped. We trailed by eleven once I drained the foul shot.

Back and forth we went with my drives slowly cutting into the lead. We had it down to eight when I drove again. I faked up with my right and switched again to my left. When he moved that way I brought the ball back to my right again. Now my hand was past his body; the layup was a breeze. I made sure to bring my arm up into his body on the follow through. Foul!

He went berserk, screaming at the ref. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you blind? That was a charge! Damn you!” A second later he was called for a technical. A “T” counts as a personal foul and that was his fifth. He had to be restrained as he was pulled to their bench still screaming and venting his outrage. I made the fouls shots—one for being fouled while making the basket and two more for the technical. We trailed by three when we took the ball out of bounds. Another layup, easy this time without a giant in my way, and we trailed by one.

They came down court, scoring on a short jumper—down three. Now their strategy changed. They fouled Mark before we brought the ball inbounds. He made both and we were down one again. They made a foul shot and I rebounded the missed second, passing to Jason with only five seconds to go. They fouled again. The clock read 0:03.4 when Jason stepped to the line. I knew he was nervous so I was relieved when he made the first. I moved to the left side of the lane knowing that his shot usually went to the right when he missed. Sure enough, the ball clanged off the right side of the rim, bouncing high into the air and to the left. I moved left and leaped high—my arm extended–spearing the ball with my left hand. I held it for a second before flipping it in a perfect high arc toward the basket. It fell through as the buzzer sounded. We’d won at last! I sank to my knees in exhaustion and relief.

The court was pandemonium as more than a thousand fans rushed the court. I stood hurriedly and kept my mask in place in self defense from the well-wishers. I must have been back-slapped a hundred times at least when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned and Cinda carefully removed the mask before rushing forward to hold and kiss me. She held it for more than a minute as the fans around us cheered. I whispered, “You know I’m a sweaty mess,” when she broke it.
“I don’t care. You were magnificent.” I kissed her again then moved into line for the handshakes with the opposing team.

I had reached the end of the line when their coach shook my hand. “That was the most amazing performance I’ve ever seen, Ty. You’re some player…just incredible.” He shook my hand again and I was able to return to our bench. Everyone was jumping around and celebrating. I sat down exhausted, but not too tired to accept the championship trophy and the MVP award. A month later I was named All State and Mr. Basketball. Later, in early April, I was selected to the AP and Parade Magazine All-America teams.

Holly came over often to play with Fred so he understandably became very protective of her. Thus I was shocked one morning during our Easter break when Fred began to bark, something he rarely did. He was racing back and forth along the fence and barking like crazy at Holly in the yard next door. I knew something was wrong. Fred raced in front of me as I opened the gate to her yard. He ran in, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back to the house. I walked cautiously past them.

Mrs. Warren opened the back door visibly upset. “Why is he biting Holly?”

“He’s not biting me, Mommy. He’s just pulling me.”

Then I saw the reason why. “There’s a snake out here—looks like a copperhead. “Cinda,” I called, “Bring my short shovel and the hoe from the garage, will you please?” She was there less than twenty seconds later.

“Be careful, Ty.” I would be; I’d killed these snakes before. It rose up as if to strike as I approached. I feinted with the shovel in my left hand then took a vicious swing with the hoe in my right. The hoe severed the snake’s spine about four inches behind the head. It writhed around on the ground for almost a minute before it died.

“Don’t go near it,” I warned. “It can still bite and the poison is still deadly.” I picked up the head with the shovel and dumped it into their trash. Then I returned to the body and picked it up, carrying it also to the trash. I crouched when I reached Holly. “Looks like your arm is all covered with slobber, Holly.”

“That’s okay, Ty. I think Fred saved me.”

“That’s why he’s here—to protect all of us. Pretty good at his job, wouldn’t you say?” Holly just smiled as she hugged and kissed her pal.

When the school year ended I was again number one in our class with a 98.6 percent average. Cinda was number two at 97.8. Mr. Whittaker told the entire school how pleased he was to have her as a student at the annual awards assembly. What a hypocrite! Then he announced that he would retire at the end of the year. Cinda and I were pleased, but probably no more than most of the other students.

Cinda and I had been so busy last year that we’d never even thought about a honeymoon although every day with her was like a day in paradise. “How’d you like to go to Disney World? It could be a honeymoon for us. If we drive we could stop by in Louisiana so I can see my favorite mother-in-law and her no-good son.” Cinda howled; she knew I loved Monroe like a brother—probably better than most brothers.

“Oh, Ty do you mean it? Think we could stay with your grandma again?” I started to make some calls. First were Mom and Dad—arrangements for Fred–then Grandma and finally hotel reservations for a week at the Disney’s Animal Kingdom Lodge. We dropped Fred off with Mom and Dad on Friday afternoon and left on Saturday morning. Cinda and I were eighteen—almost nineteen now; we had a MasterCard and a Visa, but I still had Dan Shulman manage our financial affairs. He’d done very well in this area, suggesting a CPA who’d recommended a variety of mutual funds. I had insisted on no-load funds, preferring not to pay five percent commission—almost $500,000 on the bulk of my inheritance. That would have been ridiculous. One of those suggestions was a triple tax-free municipal bond fund that had earned more than five percent over the past year. Overall, my investments had earned 8.3 percent—roughly $800,000. Most of it had been reinvested; the proceeds from the tax-free fund replenished my bank account.

We always rose early, but the night before our trip we could hardly sleep—that’s how anxious and excited we were. We’d celebrate the first anniversary of our meeting tomorrow. What a wonderful year it had been. Driving now would be a lot easier, too; Cinda had passed her driving test in April. I often let her drive to and from school and on other short trips. I drove for two hours before pulling off to get breakfast then Cinda drove for an hour. We alternated throughout the day, making excellent time and covering more than 650 miles before stopping and staying at a Best Western for the night. Up early again we reached Grandma’s just after noon.

She greeted us with hugs and kisses. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. Dear God, was it a year ago that the two of you met each other? We have so much to talk about, but first Cinda I think you should go and see your mother. She’s been talking nonstop about your visit all week.” I unloaded the truck, moving our suitcases into our old room. We raced to the truck once we had kissed Grandma good-bye. Five minutes later we were in front of Cinda’s old house. If anything it looked worse than it had when we left. I had barely stopped the truck when Cinda was out the door. I expected her to run to the house, but she waited for me; we walked hand-in-hand to the door. Momma opened it before we had even climbed the steps. Cinda ran up to hug her Momma. I followed a few steps behind, hugging and kissing Momma, too.

We walked into the house together. Cinda hugged Monroe then he hugged me. “All-American–not too shabby; I saw that last basket on You Tube. That was incredible. How many points did you have in that game?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of stuff like that.”

“Well, I do,” Cinda interjected. “Ty had 59, a new tournament record, and he had seventeen rebounds, too. He was playing against a seven-footer. It was the most incredible game I’ve ever seen and I saw all of Ty’s last year. The team was 32-0—undefeated, thanks to Ty.”

“I was only one member of the team. I know you understand that, Monroe, even if your sister doesn’t.” Cinda stuck her tongue out at me and we all had a good laugh. “I thought you had a great game against Auburn. Cinda and I were glued to the TV the entire game. She refused to get up even to pee. I thought she was going to ruin our couch.”

Even Cinda laughed at that although she did say, “I went at half-time, so there.” We all laughed again then we made arrangements for dinner. Momma told us it was lonely being here in the house by herself, but that Grandma had spent a lot of time with her comparing notes. “You should get a dog, Momma, like Fred.” Then we all listened while Cinda told at least two dozen stories about Fred including her episode with the plumber and how he had lunged at Mitch and how he had saved Holly from the copperhead. Finally, she told about Fred taking attendance every night, his cold nose on our cheeks. “The only down side is thunder. Fred gets terrified. Sometimes he’s actually shaking. I sit on the floor then and his head is in my lap. I never thought I could love a dog. Then I met Fred.” Cinda looked at me with the same loving expression I’d seen every day over the past year.

We piled into the truck around 5:30 and drove to pick up Grandma then it was up to Morgan City for dinner. As usual, we had an outstanding time, well worth the expense even though we were exhausted by the time I drove into Grandma’s driveway at 11:30.

The first thing that Grandma had asked Cinda at dinner was about her new school. She and Momma were thrilled by Cinda’s grades—and mine, too. Then Momma asked if she had made any friends.

“Yes, Momma I have five very good friends. My best friend goes steady with Ty’s best friend, Kenny. We do a lot of things together.”

“Are these girls white? Do you have any black friends?”

“Yes, and no—it’s interesting that my skin color has never been an issue with the white girls, but it is with the black girls just as it was here. I know a number of black students, but many of them are snobs, because their parents are professors or doctors. Mandy’s father is a very wealthy investment banker, but you’d never know it by her. I met her and Kenny the very first day I was there and they welcomed me like I was family. Of course, being married to the school heartthrob has made things easy for me.” Cinda grinned as I scowled. Monroe just laughed.

Most of the conversation throughout dinner was either about our experiences or about Monroe’s at LSU. I was surprised to learn how much time Grandma and Momma had spent together, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it was to be expected. They had so much in common.

We had kissed Grandma and retired to our room where we showered, together as always, and I waited for Cinda to finish with her hair. In a year of firsts for Cinda one of the highlights occurred when Mandy took Cinda for her first beauty salon appointment. Momma had always cut Cinda’s hair herself to save money. Cinda told me afterwards that is was the second most amazing thing she’d experienced, second only to making love with me. “It was wonderful having my hair washed and dried and then styled. I had a manicure and pedicure after that. Mandy was with me the whole time and all we did was laugh. Don’t you think I look great?” That was a no-brainer—I always thought she looked fantastic.

Cinda was just about to get into bed with me when I asked her if she was going to open her suitcase. “No, I’m already dressed for bed,” she commented as she pointed to her gorgeous naked body.

“Well, maybe you’ll need something in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure I will, but what I’ll want is in the bed, not in my suitcase.” I gave her the same look she had given me so many times when I was exasperating. “Okay, I’ll open it just to satisfy you.” She did a double take first at me and then back into the pile of clothing. Sitting there on top of her neatly folded clothes was a square box wrapped in gold foil with a white satin bow. “I hate to tell you this, but the bow is squished flat.”

“Even you’d be flat if you were squeezed in there. Why don’t you open it? Happy anniversary; I met you exactly one year ago, probably the luckiest day of my life; I love you!”

A tear came to her eye as she exclaimed, “Oh, Ty—I didn’t buy you anything. I didn’t even realize until Grandma said something earlier.”

“That’s quite alright. I got my best present ever a year ago today. You’re a gift that keeps on giving.”

“But, Ty when did you buy this? We haven’t been apart in more than a month.”

“I had a little helper…Mom.