Date: Tue, 21 Feb 2017 08:30:04 -0600
From: Eric Trager <trager2275@gmail.com>
Subject: It Is What It Is: Chapter 36

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Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. Š 2015 by Eric Trager.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX



Sean felt himself floating, wondering if this is what it felt like to be
dead. At once, he was jarred by a strong scent. Gradually, his vision came
into focus. A man in a uniform stood above him. He had a small packet in
his hand. Sean thought that was weird. Not at all like the near-death
experiences he'd read about with the white light and tunnel.

"Wake up!" The man said, matter-of-factly.

All Sean could think to say was, "Am I dead?"

"You're not dead. What's your name?"

"Sean. Sean Wyman. Not dead? What happened?"

"Some guy took a shot at you. Your friend pushed you out of the way. You
must have hit your head on the curb when you went down."

"So, I'm not shot?"

"Nope, you're not. We are gonna take you in to see if you have a
concussion, though...

"So, who shot at me?"

"Don't know. All I know is someone else shot him back. He tried to get
away, but a bunch of the guys from your team followed him and surrounded
his car until the Cops got there. They took the guy away."

"So, I'm not shot then..."

"Nope. Your friend got shot, though..."

"What? Who?"

"Dunno the kid's name. Red-headed kid about your size."

"What?! How... I mean..." Sean was for once in his life lost for
words. Tears streamed down his face. "Is he OK" Is he dead?"

"He was alive when the ambulance left. I didn't attend to him, so I don't
know what his injuries might be."

"Get me to the Hospital now! I need to check on him! He'll want to know I'm
there!"

"Alright, we'll get you there. Now, this young man here insists he come
with us in the ambulance. I dunno if..."

Sean looked up and saw Andy. Andy was as white as a sheet.

"And. Brown Eyes. Let them get me in the ambulance. You run ahead right
now. Get to the Hospital and find Dix. Let him know I'll be there. Text me
and let me know how he's doing. Call George if you have to."

Andy, still colorless, simply nodded. He reached out, took Sean's hand,
giving it a squeeze. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Sean could tell
Andy was saying, "I love you." Sean squeezed Andy's hand in return,
mouthing the words back to him.

In a matter of seconds, Sean was loaded onto a gurney, into the ambulance
and under siren sped off to Mercy Hospital. Once there, Sean was checked
into the Emergency Ward. After about an hour a Doctor came in and checked
Sean's chart and vitals.

"Your vitals are fine. I see by the chart you took a blow to the head. By
the way, I'm Doctor Volbrecht."

"OK, Doc, so whada we gotta do here? Am I gonna go home tonight?"

"Well, Sean, right now I'm going to test you for a concussion. If you check
out OK, then we'll discharge you. How's that?"

"Alright, Doc. Let's get the show on the road, I guess..."

The Doctor proceeded to give Sean a quick battery of tests, checking his
vision, inquiring if his head, or neck hurt, reflex testing, some balance
exercises and short-term mental recall drills.

"You check out OK, Sean. I'll fill out the paperwork for your release and
you should be outta here before too long."

"Thanks, Doc. Hey, can you go out in the waiting room and see if my dad is
here, and Andy. He's my fiancé. If they're here, can they come back
here?"

"I'll see if they're here, and yes, they can come back. You're a lucky guy,
Sean. Most people with a knot on their head the size of yours would show at
least some signs of a concussion, even this early after the fact. I want
you to notify your own Physician if you notice anything at all. A
concussion is serious..."

"OK, will do, Doc, and thanks..."

After about five minutes, Joe and Andy appeared. Andy ran to Sean, hugging
him close.

"I'm glad you're OK, Sean-o. I found out about Dix. He was shot in the
bicep... Otherwise, he's OK..."

"Bicep? How's his arm?"

"Yeah, bicep... Right bicep they said. He came in with his arm is in a
sling with a huge bandage on it. I didn't see him, but Brett said he was
pretty well sedated when they brought him in. They'll need to
operate. Brett is like you would expect. The guy's a rock."

"That means... That means Dix won't be able to play Saturday. It's the
Championship Game!"

"It looks like it's gonna be on you, Sean-o. Dix can call the plays..."

"OK, well, it is what it is. Me and Dix, we've played together all
season. Now he can't play. So, I guess I'm it, hey? I'm not liking this a
hundred percent, Brown Eyes, but I'll do what I have to do. What else is
there for me to do... It's what I always do..."

"Yes, it is what you always do. We've known each other forever, and you
will do this. I know you will.  I've watched you do shit like this all our
lives, Blondie."

"I will. On my mother's grave I will. There are people depending on
me. Hey, can we see Dix when I get out?"

"Don't see why not as long as he's out of surgery," Andy answered.

"Son, I want you to take tonight and tomorrow. Tomorrow night I want you to
tell me how you really feel. I don't want you to risk further injury if you
have a concussion, OK?"

"OK, dad. I feel fine now, except where the knot on my head is. Do they
know who shot at me? Who shot Dix?"

"They don't know, son. My first instinct was Kennedy, but it wasn't him. I
saw the Cops bundle the guy off and whoever it was, was a lot smaller than
Kennedy... I mean Kennedy's like 6'4" and 250, 260. This guy was nowhere
near that big."

"They said someone shot the guy..."

"That was me," Joe said. "I was walking along at that time hoping to catch
up with you guys hoping to congratulate you. I saw the guy draw his
piece. I yelled at him. He looked back at me, then took a bead on you and I
plugged him. It was dark out, so my aim wasn't the best. I think I hit him
in the thigh.  Anyway, from what I gather, he didn't bleed out and he's
still alive. He's gonna be either here, or at Saint Mary's. We'll know who
it is pretty soon I expect."

"OK, well, I wanna know who it is. There's too much shit going on. Now it
looks like I hafta win a game on my own. I never did that all season, and
this is for all the marbles... Fuck it! I'm doing it!"

At that moment, a Nurse came in informing Sean that they were preparing his
discharge papers and he would be free to go in probably a half hour, maybe
less.

"You're a lucky young man, I'd say," the Nurse said. "Your friend wasn't
quite as lucky, but he's still with us. Also, I figured you'd ask me, so
just to let you know, they took him into surgery to fix up his arm.  Other
than that, off the record, I think he'll be OK."

"Thanks, Nurse..." Sean said.

"Son," Joe cut in. "You're gonna be interviewed by the police. I saw
Detective Somerville just before I came back. He said he'd come by the
house tomorrow morning. I told him to make it early. I figured you wouldn't
want to waste too much of the day waiting on him. He'll be by at 8:00. He
knows you don't know anything, he just has to take a statement is all..."

"That's fine, dad. Somerville's a decent dude. Wanna hand me my clothes so
I can get dressed? I don't wanna be here one second longer than I hafta
be. And dad, why don't you go home. Me and And are gonna see if we can find
Dix once they spring me... Is Dowls here? What about George and Peggy?"

"Brett's here and so are George and Peggy. Ginny's here, too. OK, guys,
I'll head out. John went home.  He was worried, but I told him to get
Kathleen the hell out of there so I called them a cab. I didn't have a
total picture of what was going on, and I didn't want her hanging around
behind. I knew it wasn't Kennedy that shot the gun, but I didn't wanna take
the chance on anything else happening. I told them to get to the Alamo and
wait for me. I'll see you guys later then..."

"OK, see ya later dad," Andy and Sean said in unison.

About then minutes later the Nurse showed up with Sean's discharge papers,
and he was free to go. The boys made their way to the Patient Information
Desk to find out where Tim was. Told that he was in surgery, and where the
General Surgery Waiting Room was, they made their way to that part of the
Hospital. On exiting the elevator, they saw George, Peggy, Brett and Ginny
in the waiting area.

Brett stood up, ran to Andy, grabbed him in a hug,
sobbing. "I...can't...believe...this... He's shot... Who...  I mean,
why..." He then cried in earnest on Andy's shoulder.

Andy held Brett's head, stroked his hair, whispering that everything would
be alright.

Bret regained his usual composure, motioning to Sean to step over so he
could fill them in. "OK, here's what we know. There was a guy in the
parking lot. It looked like he was aiming at Sean. Sean, Tim dove on you at
the last second and pushed you out of the way. Your head hit the curb and
you passed out, but Tim was a split-second too late, and he took a bullet
in the arm. The Doctor said it's a little more than just a flesh would, but
that he'll be OK. They're operating on the wound right now, and they'll
stitch him back up. It should be about another hour they said..."

"He pushed me out of the way? I mean, he could have been killed... Why?
Why'd he do it?"

"He told me why. In the ambulance on the way down. I want him to tell you
himself," Brett said, a fresh tear running down his face, his lower lip
quivering.

"Well, I guess I'll hafta wait then... I still wanna know who the fuck took
a shot at me... And why..."

"We'll probably find out in the morning," Andy said.

At that moment, Ginny came over. "Guys, I'm outta here for the night. I
came down because I didn't know what was going on with Tim and I needed to
be sure he wasn't in danger of dying. I also needed to see a Cop to find
out who's behind this. Wasn't who I thought it was. They're lucky, lemme
tell ya... Like I said, there isn't a fuckin' thing happens in this town
that I don't know about if I wanna know. Brett, my hottie, you give that
man of yours some lovin', ya hear?" Ginny said as she tweaked Brett's cheek
with a wink as she turned to leave.

"Jesus!" Brett said, "we're never gonna see her like again as long as we
live."

"No, no we won't," Sean agreed.

Peggy Dickson approached the boys, "Alright you guys, Timmy's out of
surgery now and he's in his room.  He's askin' to see ya, don'tcha know. He
says just all go in at once. Go on, now..."

"Have you and George seen him?" Sean asked.

"Oh, ya, we did now..." Peggy answered. "He's all stitched up. He's
awake. Go on, now, go see him! It's room 302..."

When the boys walked in they saw Tim with a huge grin on his face.

"What the hell are you smiling about, Dix?" Sean demanded.

"I forgot to duck..." Tim answered.

"OK, well, Brett says they were gonna shoot me and you jumped on me to get
me out of the way. That true?"

"Um, yeah..." Tim said, looking sheepish.

"Why'dja do it? Why'dja do it, Dix?"

"Wymo, it was a split-second thing, but all I could see going through my
head was your two kids. They're not even born yet. Those kids are gonna
need a father, and that's you, asshole. I fuckin' did what I hadda do... I
did what my brain told me to do... It's OK. I'll live. It doesn't hurt that
bad."

"But what about Brett?" Sean asked, somewhat taken aback.

"I know, I know... I know whatcher sayin'... Like I said, it was a
split-second thing, Wymo. And what about any of us? We're all put here on
this Earth for a reason, and my reason to be on Earth tonight was to make
sure your kids have a dad. Plus, I guess it wasn't my time yet anyway."

"Well, what about the game? I mean, we got the fuckin' State Championship
game and you won't be able to play!"

"Prolly not, but take a closer look, Einstein – it's my left arm that
was shot, not my right. I'm right handed so I can still throw. Plus, the
wound wasn't quite as bad as they originally thought. You're right,
though. You're gonna hafta play pretty much the whole game. I might be able
to come in for a couple of plays here and there, but that's gonna be about
it. You'll kill it, I know you will. You're better than I am, Wymo. That's
just the truth. I knew that the first time we faced off in practice last
Summer."

"Does Coach know?" Andy asked.

"Yup. And Coach says there is to be no word about me being injured. We need
Neenah to be practicing against both of us. They can't practice for all of
our moves anyway..." Turning to Sean, Tim smiled, "You got this, Wymo. God
told me you do."

Sean slumped down in the one chair that was in the room, running a hand
over his brow. "OK, I'm gonna fuckin' do this! It all comes down to
this... I never fucking asked for any of this shit, but it falls to me and
I promise you guys on my mother's grave that I won't fuck it up. I'm not
going out there to fuck it up.  You better call one hell of a game,
Dix. Let's lay it all out there, bro..."

"We will. You're gonna win this game for us. Like I said, you're better
than I am."

"Brett, I'm gonna talk to Coach. I'll need you in in Offense at Wide
Receiver on certain downs. I know you gotta play D, but I'll need
you. Let's do this. Let's do it for Dix."

"I'm there," Brett nodded. "Don't worry about it."

"You guys are gonna do it," Andy said. "I been watching the Neenah films
same as you and they are not as sophisticated as we are. If we get a good
performance from the D, we'll win. On Offense, we're gonna need to score at
least 28 points, I figure. That, or over and we win. They haven't won any
of their games by blowouts this year. It's that simple, guys. I'm the guy
with the stats, and that's what I'm tellin' ya..."

Just then, the Nurse came in to announce that visiting hours were done for
the night and that the boys needed to say their good byes. They all did so,
giving Tim hugs, and Brett kissing him, too. In the waiting area, Peggy and
George let them know they'd take them all home and Andy could come back for
his car in the morning.

Once in George's Escalade, Sean asked who the shooter was.

"I didn't get a name, Sean, but I can tell you it wasn't Bill Kennedy. He's
the first person I thought of, so I called Ed Steele to see if he knew
Kennedy's whereabouts this evening. Turns out he's out of town. He went to
Des Moines yesterday to bid a road contract for the State of Iowa. Ed
assured me he knew that for a fact."

"Not Kennedy, huh..." Andy said, looking puzzled. "Well, who then?"

"That's the mystery..." Sean said, picking up his phone having got a text
from Joe asking where they were as Detective Somerville had shown up and
wanted to do his interview that evening even though it was late. Sean
replied that they'd be at the Alamo in ten minutes.

Once home, Joe guided Andy and Sean into the Library. "Good evening,
gentlemen," Detective Somerville began, "I'm sorry to have to do this
tonight, but it's best to get your statements while what happened is as
fresh as possible."

"OK, fine," Sean answered, "But first I wanna know the name of who the guy
with the gun was..."

"Very well, the guy we have in jail is John Berrifield, Senior. We
understand that he was muttering as he was taken away that Sean was
responsible for the death of his son and the fact that his wife is in a
mental hospital. We don't have test results yet, but the Officers on scene
recorded that he appeared to be under the influence of some kind of
drug. Their guess was either meth, or crack. The Hospital will test him for
that. I gather you know that your dad shot Berrifield in the thigh. The
wound was far worse than Tim's as your dad uses hollow-point rounds. The
fact that Berrifield didn't is what probably meant that Tim's wound wasn't
worse than it is. Anyway, let's get started here..."

Thirty minutes later, Detective Somerville took his leave, neither boy
having much information they could supply. When asked what the charges
would be, they were informed that so far Berrifield had been charged with
assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. He doubted if it would
end up being more than that because the D.A. would want a fast trial with
no room to muddy the waters, or room for an appeal. The Detective opined
that the assault charge might be dropped as attempted murder was
open-and-shut and the D.A. wasn't going to get a higher charge than that in
any event. He assured everyone that when handling a matter of this
"delicacy," there would be no names released to the media, and that at
present Berrifield had only been identified as unknown, and Tim had not
been identified, the victim only described as "another adult."

"Don't worry, I've already spoken to Coach Slater and Tim's identity won't
get out," the Detective said.

"Thank you, Detective," Sean said.

After Detective Somerville left, Sean noticed that he had a text from Coach
Slater asking if it would be alright for him to stop by in the
morning. Sean answered that it would, and that 8:30 would be a good time.

The next morning Coach Slater and Sean sat in the Alamo's bar. Coach said
he'd only need a few minutes for what he had to say, which was that he was
planning to possibly have Tim's name leaked to the local newspaper as
`possibly injured' on Friday before Saturday's game, but he hadn't
decided. He said if leaked, it would be done late in the day in order that
the news might not make to Neenah until Saturday morning.

"What this will accomplish, Mister Wyman, is that the Red Rockets will
spend their time practicing against both of you when they will only face
one of you. Their Defense will have wasted a significant portion of their
practice time. I see no reason why we need to tip our hand, so I might not
do it at all. I mean that we're gonna be out our First-String
Quarterback. Fine. Why should we advertise it unless and until we need to?
Besides, the Doctor said he might clear Mister Dickson to play. In any
event, Mister Dickson will suit up for the game. That way, if I leak it
they'll have heard he might not be able to play, and then they'll see him
suited up. That'll cause them to second-guess themselves. As Yogi Berra
once said, `half of the game is ninety percent mental.' I have confidence
in you, Mister Wyman. I believe in you. We both know Mister Dickson won't
be a factor in this game at Quarterback, in fact, I doubt if he'll play at
all."

"Coach," Sean began, "it's like I told you the first time we met... Last
year when I had to take over at Quarterback on the Tremper team, Coach
Anderson didn't send me out there to fuck it up. And I didn't fuck it up. I
did my job, and that is what I will do on Saturday. Count on it. Now, I
want this week's drills to be as if they were pre-season drills and we're
deciding who will and won't make the team. I want Dix to take a few snaps
so we can decide if we can use him on a couple plays where I'm in, too. If
we think we can, then we use him. I wanna throw every single thing we have
at Neenah on Saturday. I don't want conservative play calling. I don't
wanna leave anything on the field at the end of the game."

"We won't, Mister Wyman."

"Good, and we need the Defense ready, too. And seems to think that if we
can put up 28 points on Offense we win the game. Between you and me, after
watching the Neenah films I think 28 points is probably about all we're
going to be able to put up against their Defense. They're as good as
Madison West, if not better on D. I'll get us the 28 points, but we're
gonna need to go back to Lombardi's old adage that the best Offense is a
good Defense. And I need you to grant me the authority on who I have in for
Receivers on a play-by-play basis."

"Granted. And I do not find fault with your analysis. I will be spending
most of the time in practice this week with the Defense, so I'm gonna have
to leave it up to you to have the Offense ready. I've told you this before,
Mister Wyman: you're a leader. You've got a bigger set of balls than I've
seen on men two and three times your age. You're gonna need `em. I'm going
to email you my game plan once I get home. I'd ask that you go over it,
critique it, and have your comments back to me at some point this
evening. I think that is all I have, Mister Wyman. Is there anything else?"

"Not at this point, Coach. I'm good."

"Very well, then. I'll look for your email this evening."

After Coach left, Sean rounded up Andy and J.R. "Guys, we're going on a
little road trip here. And, fire up the Cruze. We're heading for Kenosha."

"Kenosha?!"

"Yeah. We're leaving in five minutes so don't fuck around."

On the trip, Andy and John chatted freely while Sean was engrossed in
Coach's game plan, making notes in a spiral notebook he'd brought
along. While Sean thought the plan basically solid, he found a few areas he
deemed could be tweaked here and there. Andy interrupted Sean by asking him
what their destination was once they got to Kenosha.

"First stop is the cemetery," Sean said.

"OK, what else?"

"You'll see..."

"The cemetery?" John asked.

"That's right, Squirt," Sean replied. "I need to visit my mother's grave."

"Oh... Can I, um...can I come visit it with you?"

"We'll all visit it, Squirt."

Sean led the way from the cemetery parking lot down the path and to Val's
grave. In front of the grave he stood with his head bowed. "Mom, I need you
now. This is for all the marbles, and it's gonna be my only chance. I want
you to know I'll do my best. And I want to say thanks for Andy, and for
J.R. who you've never met. I'm gonna need all of your strength, mom. I
won't fail. I promise I won't..." Sean knelt and said a silent prayer.

At that moment, a squirrel bounced up, looked at Sean, dropped an acorn at
his feet, looked back at Sean, shook its tail and scampered away. Sean
scooped up the acorn and put it in his pocket.

"The acorn is from mom. It's for wisdom, and it'll go in my pocket all week
and during the game," Sean said as a tear coursed down his cheek. "OK,
we're done here. Let's go..."

"Where to?" Andy asked once in the car.

"Madam Zastrow's," Sean replied.

"Madam Zastrow's? What for?" Andy asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, I just know we need to go there."

"What's Madam Zastrow's?" John asked.

"She's an old, Russian fortune teller. Some people say she's psychic. I
dunno... All I know is there's this thing in my head telling me to go
there..." Sean answered.

"Boyss, haff seat. I come to yoo in few minutes." The boys heard a
gravelly, old female voice call out. As they were instructed, they seated
themselves. A curtain parted and a bent, old figure of a woman appearing as
perhaps a Russian potato farmer from the long-past reign of Czar Nicholas
II stiffly approached them with stooped back and cane.

"Yoo are Sean," She said pointing at Sean with a gnarled finger. "Ant yoo,
yoo are Andrew. Yoo are da two poofta boys. Very nice. Ant yoo, yoo are
John, da little naņito. I haff fife minutes for yoo boyss.  Please to
listen ant den yoo may go. Sean, yoo are da Prince, da? Yoo haff much to
do. Yoo must to know when to ask udders. Andrew, yoo haff no more vit
injury, but yoo, too, haff much to do, ant yoo, too, must to know when to
speak. Yoo must to see your mudder dis day. Vee haff now da little
naņito.  Naņito, yoo must to help your brudders. Yoo vill know vat to
do. Now I refeal to yoo something. Sean, yoo not know until now dat
Vehrgeenia iss my seester. Dose boys vat vill be your sonss, dey be my
great-grandnephewss. Dey vill be goot boys ant dey might haff gift. Uff dat
yoo vill know. Ant if dey haff gift yoo must to guide dem. Yoo vill know
vat to do. Dis iss all time I haff for yoo. Goot bye.


"But, Madam Zastrow, I think we have questions. At least I know I do..."
Sean said.


"Dear Prince, dis iss all time I haff for yoo. Yoo go now."


With that, Madame Zastrow rose and shuffled out of the room. All three boys
looked quizzically at each other, shrugged and left the building. They
piled into the Cruze and headed toward Andy's old house.


Once there, Kathy Barry greeted them at the door, surprised. "Andy! I
wasn't, I mean, what are you doing here?"


Both Andy and Sean were a little taken aback. Kathy did not look well. She
appeared haggard and worn.


"Boys, why don't you have a seat," Katy said motioning toward the kitchen
table. "Want some soda, or chips? I'll get you some..."


Once done with that, Kathy turned her gaze toward Andy. "Andy, wanna follow
me? I've got something to show you..."


Andy looked at the other two, shrugged, turned and followed in his mother's
wake. Once to the master bedroom, she asked Andy to shut the door.


"I'm sorry I acted so surprised, Andy, I just wasn't expecting anyone,
never mind you... So, tell me how things are going..."


"I'm doing really good, mom, and Sean's been an angel. You know, it would
have been nice to at least get a phone call..." Andy replied, somewhat
hurt.


"Sit down, Andy," Kathy said in a quavering voice. "Andy, I always intended
to call. At first I didn't want to be a bother. I knew you had a new life
to adjust to, and Joe told me you were doing just fine, so I just wanted to
let you find your way and not interfere."


"But mom, I..."


"Andy, I'll cut to the chase. A month ago I went to the Doctor. I have
breast cancer, Andy. It's aggressive and they say not treatable. I'm dying,
Andy. It won't be years. It'll be probably months, maybe weeks.  There
isn't anything they can do."


"Wha'?" Andy gasped. "Mom?"


"It's true, Andy. I'd planned to tell you after your classes were over this
semester. I could tell when I answered the door that you knew something was
wrong. I'm sorry, Andy..."


"But, it's not your fault, mom...."


"Not that I have cancer, no, but it is my fault I wasn't much of a mom..."


"You were enough, mom. I had a roof over my head, clean clothes and three
squares a day. You did the best you could after dad died... I'm sure it
wasn't easy..."


"No, it wasn't, I'll give you that much, but still... Anyway, here's what I
really wanted to tell you, and you should know. When George and I got
married, we made a pre-nup. The assets we brought into the marriage are not
marital property. I'm leaving everything to you, Andy. George knows
that. Garrett Crossman will handle my estate as Executor. It's not much,
Andy. You know what happened after your dad passed. But there are some
savings, a life insurance policy, my retirement account, some jewelry, my
car, that's pretty much it... Other than the insurance policy it might be
something like $350,000 in all. Also, I want you to know that you will be
eligible to get Social Security survivor's benefits until you're
eighteen. I asked about that."


"Um, OK... Mom?"


Kathy looked up at Andy, but did not speak.


Andy ran to Kathy, hugging her and sobbing, "Mom, oh mom... I'm so
sorry..."


"It'll be OK, Andy. Sometimes we're dealt cards we don't want. I guess this
is one of those times. You're a good son, Andy, and I'm proud of
you. Whatever you've done in life, you've always done on your own. I guess
we better go back out there before those other two get suspicious, hey?"


"Yeah... Yeah, mom, I guess so," Andy said, sniffling, wiping his eyes and
attempting a smile.


Together they walked back to the kitchen where Sean and John greeted them
with quizzical looks.


"It's time to go, guys..." Andy said.


Once in the car, Sean asked Andy what was going on. "Something doesn't seem
quite right, Brown Eyes..."


"Sean-o, my mom...she's...dying. She told me. It's breast cancer... I, um,
I...think she doesn't have a long time left." Andy then turned, seeing a
tear run down Sean's cheek.


"I'm sorry, Andy," John said reaching forward and squeezing Andy's
shoulder.


"I guess it's OK, Squirt. I mean, we're all gonna die someday... I just
didn't expect it this soon. I guess I'll be OK. I'll be OK..."


"And..."


"It's OK, Sean-o. I guess I'll hafta call and see what funeral arrangements
have been made, and all that...  She said she's leaving me everything she
owns basically..." With that, Andy broke down for a few seconds, but
quickly pulled himself back together.


Andy knew that there might be something else on the horizon that might
affect him and Sean more than the death of his mother, as awful as that
was.


On Monday, George Dickson called to let Sean know that the Court dismissed
Bill Kennedy's custody suit on the basis that the Court did not have
jurisdiction over fetuses. The suit was dismissed, George said, `without
prejudice' meaning that the suit could be refiled once the twins were
born. In typical fashion, George explained to Sean that half a loaf was
better than none, and that it didn't change the fact that Kennedy had no
standing in the matter anyway even if he decided to try again once the
babies were born. He ended letting Sean know that, "Colleen, however, will
have standing and could bring suit later...once the twins are born. Don't
worry about that, she'd be laughed out of Court."


Sean felt somewhat better about that, but was distracted in any event
concentrating his mind on the upcoming Championship game. Every waking hour
in the next week would be spent on that effort. Sean would put all else
aside in a Herculean effort. He would not be denied. Not for himself, not
for Andy, not for Coach, and not for his team mates. He was a man on a
mission.


Tuesday morning, Andy reported to Mercy Hospital for his visit with Doctor
Schroeder.


"OK, whada we got, Doc..."


"Well, good morning to you, too, Andy!" Doctor Schroeder smiled. His
countenance then sobered. "Have a seat, Andy..."


END CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX