As Long As He Draws Breath part 5
Todd looked at the clock by his bed for the 50th time in the past hour. He
tried to concentrate on his homework, but his eyes were drawn to the
neon-like, electronic display. It seemed forever before the next number would
replace the last. Todd's mother told him once that a watched pot never boiled,
but it didn't stop him from watching.
It was nearly time and Todd was so nervous he thought he might faint. After
dinner and the housekeeper gone for the day, Todd told his father that a
teacher from his school wanted to come over and talk to him. It was the first
time since before his mother left, two years earlier, that anyone had stood up
for Todd against Peter. Even when Todd ran away from summer camp to be with
her, she wouldn't stand up for him so they could stay together. Not against
Peter and not against her new husband. She made him call Peter and she'd sent
him back. After that, he couldn't trust anyone to be on his side, until Sam.
It was so wierd, but he couldn't help feeling hopeful. But he was scared of
telling Peter about Sam's visit. All he'd said was someone from the school was
coming to talk to him.
"Why Todd? Were you acting up in class? What did you do?"
"Nothing Daddy, I swear. He just wanted to talk to you."
Peter gave him a long look, his handsome face hard. "I guess we'll see, won't
we?"
It chilled Todd's blood when his father's voice got so cold. It was usually
those times when Todd could expect to get the worst of him. He almost prefered
it when his father screamed at him.
"Daddy, I--"
"Go do your homework, Todd," Peter said, not looking up from his paper, "I'd
better not hear that radio on this time."
"Yes, sir."
Todd spent the next two hours working on his schoolwork, but like the
friendly, young coach the night before, he could scarcely keep his mind on his
work. He was scared to death of how the meeting between the two adults would
go. He already knew he was in trouble. He saw it in the granite planes of his
father's face, the iciness of his eyes, but he still hoped that Sam could do
what he came to do.
Finally, it was time. He closed and stacked his books, then shut his eyes in a
boyishly quick, impromptu prayer.
*Please God. Please let this work.*
He heard the doorbell downstairs. Right on time.
"Todd!"
Todd ran from his room and started downstairs.
"Walk!" Peter commanded.
"Sorry Dad." He slowed his pace, silently berating himself for
forgetting...again. Wouldn't he ever learn?
When he got to the front door, he took a deep breath before he opened it.
"Hi Todd." Sam smiled. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and tie and was
carrying a leather briefcase, and his thick, nearly white hair was combed
neatly back. Todd stared. He looked very different from the way Todd usually
saw him, in jeans, a t-shirt and a windbreaker, with a whistle hanging from
his neck, and sometimes from his lips, a clipboard in his hand, and his hair
blowing wild around his face.
Sam gave Todd a wink. "I know, you're not used to seeing me all dolled up, are
ya? I was held up and didn't have time to change." Todd still stood there
staring. "So...can I come in?"
"Oh! Yeah!" Todd moved away from the door so Sam could enter.
Todd took his overcoat and briefcase for him, then showed him to the
livingroom where his father was pouring himself a drink. When they came in,
Peter turned his most winning smile on Sam. His outward charm did nearly as
much to get him clients as his business acumen did, and he utilized it
whenever he met someone new. Appearances, after all, were very important.
Sam smiled back and moved toward Peter, extending his hand.
"Mr. Manning, I presume. Sam Rappaport. Very nice to meet you, sir."
"Likewise. We don't often get housecalls from one of Todd's teachers."
"I assure you, it's nothing bad. In fact, I think it would be very good for
Todd."
Todd lurked just inside the doorway, not quite daring to sit down. His hands
were shaking.
"Would you like a drink, Mr. Rappaport?"
Sam declined and Peter gestured for him to sit down on the sofa opposite him,
while he sat down with his own drink.
"Well, Mr. Rappaport, what is this all about?"
"You get right to the point, sir, and so will I. I coach little league
football at your son's school."
"I didn't know coaches were so well dressed these days. Maybe I'm in the wrong
line of work?" They both laughed.
"Oh no," Sam smiled, "I was held up in court. It was a long drive back and I
didn't have time to change. I wanted to make sure I arrived on time, 8:00,
just like I told Todd.
"Court? You're an attorney? Todd told me you were a teacher."
They both looked at Todd, Peter frowning sternly. The boy stood frozen to the
spot. Had he said that? Not in so many words, but he was afraid his father to
think he'd deliberately lied. Things were already taking a turn for the worst.
Seeing Todd's tense expression, Sam quickly covered for him. "Oh, that's an
easy mistake. I do teach in a sense. I guess I teach football. That's what I
came to talk about. I would like it very much if Todd could join my team."
Peter's eyes never left Todd's face and the wrinkle in his brow grew deeper.
Todd dropped his eyes. Oh, this was a mistake. A big mistake.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
Sam thought about what he was going to say on the drive over and he thought
the best thing to do was stick to the facts, don't embellish, keep it clean,
don't volunteer more than was necessary.
"You see, Mr. Manning, we're having spring tryouts in a few weeks. We put up
flyers announcing it. Some of my boys have classes with Todd. Todd expressed
an interest in joining the team and we can use all the good players we can
get. I approached Todd, on school grounds, of course, and asked him if he'd
like to join. He seemed concerned that you didn't want him staying out late
after school. He made it very clear about that, but I asked him if I could
talk to you myself. Mr. Manning, if you're worried about Todd being out late
and getting home, you won't have to be. He'll be perfectly safe. I'll make
sure of that."
Speech finished, Sam waited expectantly for Peter's reaction. Peter had sat
quietly, listening to Sam very carefully, but thinking also, and there was one
thing he really wanted to know.
"Where was Todd when you approached him, Mr. Rappaport?"
"It was right outside his classroom. He was just coming out after the last
bell. We only spoke for a few minutes, when I asked Todd if it would be
alright if I could speak to you."
Every word true, and he still managed to skirt around the fact that Todd was
disobeying Peter by not going straight home every day. He didn't like it much,
but he'd promised Todd that he wouldn't say anything and he meant to keep that
promise. He didn't see any real harm in what Todd had been doing, and Todd
wouldn't have any reason to do it anymore once he joined the team. At least he
hadn't been lying, and if it worked, it would be worth it. He thought it would
be worth almost anything to see a smile on that sad little face.
Peter seemed to think it over for a few minutes. The room was whisper quiet.
Todd held his breath.
"Mr. Rappaport," Peter said finally, "Todd told me about this football thing.
I may seem like an ogre denying a young boy a chance to do what practically
every boy dreams of doing, but I have my reasons. I don't know how much Todd
told you about our family," He threw another glance at Todd who dropped his
eyes again, "but my wife, Todd's mother, and I are divorced. Todd is all I
have left. I want to make sure he's safe in this house every day."
"I understand, believe me. I have two of my own. You want nothing more than to
protect them and make sure they're safe and happy. Mr. Manning, I promise you,
as long as Todd is in my care, he'll never be out of my sight. I will make
sure that Todd is completely safe at all times and I'll make sure he gets home
safely. You won't have to worry at all. If you'd like, I could drive him home
after practices. I wouldn't mind."
He took one of his cards out with several names written on the back.
"You can call the school and verify that I coach there, and call me back with
your answer. My home and office number is there."
Peter took the card, read both sides, slipped it into his breast pocket.
*This is it,* Todd thought. * Oh boy, this is never going to work. Dad's going
to say no and then he's going to punish me for bringing Sam here. Why did I
ever agree to this?*
He was so sure Peter would say no that he could feel helpless tears burning
his eyes. Peter surprised him.
"You know," he began in measured tones, "this might not be a bad idea. Todd is
small for his age, as you can see. Maybe football, a sport, will toughen him
up, strengthen him. Maybe he does spend too much time in the house with his
head stuck in a book. Maybe if I let him do this, he wouldn't be moping around
the house all the time."
He smiled jovially and Sam couldn't help but wonder what Todd was so worried
about. Peter Manning seemed like a good man, a caring father, and things were
going better than he expected. He had no idea how significant this was for
Todd, who could barely contain his astonishment and excitement. It was
incredible. Sam had done it. He was actually going to get to play.
"May I ask you a question, Mr. Rappaport?"
"Of course."
"Why are you doing all this for a boy you barely know?"
Sam gave him a modest shrug. "It's what I'd do for all my boys."
After Todd walked Sam to the door and said goodbye, he went back into the
livingroom where his father was now wearing an expression that Todd couldn't
quite read. He was granite again. He beckoned Todd to him and the child moved
slowly, grateful but cautious.
"So, my son is going to be a big football star, is he? Are you going to make
your father proud?"
Todd began to feel encouraged by his father's interest and acceptance. He
lifted his face to look Peter in the eye.
"Yes, sir, I'll try," he said, eagerly, "Thank you, Daddy, for letting me-"
His words were cut off with a stinging slap to his cheek that rocked his head
backward. Peter's hand was so big, it covered over half of Todd's face.
"Owww Dad!" Todd whined, too surprised not to react.
"Be quiet. That's for bringing strangers into this house, people from your
school, no less. I warned you about bringing people here and telling them our
business and what did you do? You get some lawyer/coach to come here and plead
your case for you after I already told you no. You knew it would be harder for
me to explain why you couldn't do it to someone else, and that I'd have to say
yes. That was your sneaky little plan from the start, wasn't it? Don't lie to
me."
"N-no sir!" Todd protested, vainly hoping to stave off more flying hands, "It
was Sa-- Mr. Rappaport's idea. I told him what you said, but he wanted to
come. He asked me to-- I didn't mean to-- I didn't plan-- I didn't--" Todd
stammered helplessly, fear gripping his heart.
Peter watched him, his angry expression turning almost gentle. It still
unsettled Todd the way his father's mood could change so quickly.
"Alright. Hush. I know you wouldn't dare lie to me. You know what would happen
if you did, and you'd deserve it. I believe you this time. But if it were your
idea, you would 've gotten a lot worse than just a little smack, you know
that, don't you?"
"Yes sir," he agreed. He was still frightened, but relieved that no more
punishment was coming.
"And don't make me tell you again. Don't tell *anyone* what goes on in this
house. That's our business, no one elses, understand? Is any of this
penetrating that thick skull of yours, Todd?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Fine. Go to bed. I don't want to hear a peep out of you for the rest of the
night."
He turned his back on Todd, and Todd took his cue to hurry upstairs to his
room. He rubbed his sore cheek, but now that his father was out of sight, he
could allow himself a smile. He couldn't suppress the happiness he was
feeling. He was going to be able to get out of the house, as cold and empty as
a tomb since his mother left, and be able to play with the other kids. And he
was going to be good, he promised himself. He'd practice everyday, and he
would make his father proud of him. Then maybe things between him and his
father would get better. They had to.
Todd looked at the clock by his bed for the 50th time in the past hour. He
tried to concentrate on his homework, but his eyes were drawn to the
neon-like, electronic display. It seemed forever before the next number would
replace the last. Todd's mother told him once that a watched pot never boiled,
but it didn't stop him from watching.
It was nearly time and Todd was so nervous he thought he might faint. After
dinner and the housekeeper gone for the day, Todd told his father that a
teacher from his school wanted to come over and talk to him. It was the first
time since before his mother left, two years earlier, that anyone had stood up
for Todd against Peter. Even when Todd ran away from summer camp to be with
her, she wouldn't stand up for him so they could stay together. Not against
Peter and not against her new husband. She made him call Peter and she'd sent
him back. After that, he couldn't trust anyone to be on his side, until Sam.
It was so wierd, but he couldn't help feeling hopeful. But he was scared of
telling Peter about Sam's visit. All he'd said was someone from the school was
coming to talk to him.
"Why Todd? Were you acting up in class? What did you do?"
"Nothing Daddy, I swear. He just wanted to talk to you."
Peter gave him a long look, his handsome face hard. "I guess we'll see, won't
we?"
It chilled Todd's blood when his father's voice got so cold. It was usually
those times when Todd could expect to get the worst of him. He almost prefered
it when his father screamed at him.
"Daddy, I--"
"Go do your homework, Todd," Peter said, not looking up from his paper, "I'd
better not hear that radio on this time."
"Yes, sir."
Todd spent the next two hours working on his schoolwork, but like the
friendly, young coach the night before, he could scarcely keep his mind on his
work. He was scared to death of how the meeting between the two adults would
go. He already knew he was in trouble. He saw it in the granite planes of his
father's face, the iciness of his eyes, but he still hoped that Sam could do
what he came to do.
Finally, it was time. He closed and stacked his books, then shut his eyes in a
boyishly quick, impromptu prayer.
*Please God. Please let this work.*
He heard the doorbell downstairs. Right on time.
"Todd!"
Todd ran from his room and started downstairs.
"Walk!" Peter commanded.
"Sorry Dad." He slowed his pace, silently berating himself for
forgetting...again. Wouldn't he ever learn?
When he got to the front door, he took a deep breath before he opened it.
"Hi Todd." Sam smiled. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and tie and was
carrying a leather briefcase, and his thick, nearly white hair was combed
neatly back. Todd stared. He looked very different from the way Todd usually
saw him, in jeans, a t-shirt and a windbreaker, with a whistle hanging from
his neck, and sometimes from his lips, a clipboard in his hand, and his hair
blowing wild around his face.
Sam gave Todd a wink. "I know, you're not used to seeing me all dolled up, are
ya? I was held up and didn't have time to change." Todd still stood there
staring. "So...can I come in?"
"Oh! Yeah!" Todd moved away from the door so Sam could enter.
Todd took his overcoat and briefcase for him, then showed him to the
livingroom where his father was pouring himself a drink. When they came in,
Peter turned his most winning smile on Sam. His outward charm did nearly as
much to get him clients as his business acumen did, and he utilized it
whenever he met someone new. Appearances, after all, were very important.
Sam smiled back and moved toward Peter, extending his hand.
"Mr. Manning, I presume. Sam Rappaport. Very nice to meet you, sir."
"Likewise. We don't often get housecalls from one of Todd's teachers."
"I assure you, it's nothing bad. In fact, I think it would be very good for
Todd."
Todd lurked just inside the doorway, not quite daring to sit down. His hands
were shaking.
"Would you like a drink, Mr. Rappaport?"
Sam declined and Peter gestured for him to sit down on the sofa opposite him,
while he sat down with his own drink.
"Well, Mr. Rappaport, what is this all about?"
"You get right to the point, sir, and so will I. I coach little league
football at your son's school."
"I didn't know coaches were so well dressed these days. Maybe I'm in the wrong
line of work?" They both laughed.
"Oh no," Sam smiled, "I was held up in court. It was a long drive back and I
didn't have time to change. I wanted to make sure I arrived on time, 8:00,
just like I told Todd.
"Court? You're an attorney? Todd told me you were a teacher."
They both looked at Todd, Peter frowning sternly. The boy stood frozen to the
spot. Had he said that? Not in so many words, but he was afraid his father to
think he'd deliberately lied. Things were already taking a turn for the worst.
Seeing Todd's tense expression, Sam quickly covered for him. "Oh, that's an
easy mistake. I do teach in a sense. I guess I teach football. That's what I
came to talk about. I would like it very much if Todd could join my team."
Peter's eyes never left Todd's face and the wrinkle in his brow grew deeper.
Todd dropped his eyes. Oh, this was a mistake. A big mistake.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
Sam thought about what he was going to say on the drive over and he thought
the best thing to do was stick to the facts, don't embellish, keep it clean,
don't volunteer more than was necessary.
"You see, Mr. Manning, we're having spring tryouts in a few weeks. We put up
flyers announcing it. Some of my boys have classes with Todd. Todd expressed
an interest in joining the team and we can use all the good players we can
get. I approached Todd, on school grounds, of course, and asked him if he'd
like to join. He seemed concerned that you didn't want him staying out late
after school. He made it very clear about that, but I asked him if I could
talk to you myself. Mr. Manning, if you're worried about Todd being out late
and getting home, you won't have to be. He'll be perfectly safe. I'll make
sure of that."
Speech finished, Sam waited expectantly for Peter's reaction. Peter had sat
quietly, listening to Sam very carefully, but thinking also, and there was one
thing he really wanted to know.
"Where was Todd when you approached him, Mr. Rappaport?"
"It was right outside his classroom. He was just coming out after the last
bell. We only spoke for a few minutes, when I asked Todd if it would be
alright if I could speak to you."
Every word true, and he still managed to skirt around the fact that Todd was
disobeying Peter by not going straight home every day. He didn't like it much,
but he'd promised Todd that he wouldn't say anything and he meant to keep that
promise. He didn't see any real harm in what Todd had been doing, and Todd
wouldn't have any reason to do it anymore once he joined the team. At least he
hadn't been lying, and if it worked, it would be worth it. He thought it would
be worth almost anything to see a smile on that sad little face.
Peter seemed to think it over for a few minutes. The room was whisper quiet.
Todd held his breath.
"Mr. Rappaport," Peter said finally, "Todd told me about this football thing.
I may seem like an ogre denying a young boy a chance to do what practically
every boy dreams of doing, but I have my reasons. I don't know how much Todd
told you about our family," He threw another glance at Todd who dropped his
eyes again, "but my wife, Todd's mother, and I are divorced. Todd is all I
have left. I want to make sure he's safe in this house every day."
"I understand, believe me. I have two of my own. You want nothing more than to
protect them and make sure they're safe and happy. Mr. Manning, I promise you,
as long as Todd is in my care, he'll never be out of my sight. I will make
sure that Todd is completely safe at all times and I'll make sure he gets home
safely. You won't have to worry at all. If you'd like, I could drive him home
after practices. I wouldn't mind."
He took one of his cards out with several names written on the back.
"You can call the school and verify that I coach there, and call me back with
your answer. My home and office number is there."
Peter took the card, read both sides, slipped it into his breast pocket.
*This is it,* Todd thought. * Oh boy, this is never going to work. Dad's going
to say no and then he's going to punish me for bringing Sam here. Why did I
ever agree to this?*
He was so sure Peter would say no that he could feel helpless tears burning
his eyes. Peter surprised him.
"You know," he began in measured tones, "this might not be a bad idea. Todd is
small for his age, as you can see. Maybe football, a sport, will toughen him
up, strengthen him. Maybe he does spend too much time in the house with his
head stuck in a book. Maybe if I let him do this, he wouldn't be moping around
the house all the time."
He smiled jovially and Sam couldn't help but wonder what Todd was so worried
about. Peter Manning seemed like a good man, a caring father, and things were
going better than he expected. He had no idea how significant this was for
Todd, who could barely contain his astonishment and excitement. It was
incredible. Sam had done it. He was actually going to get to play.
"May I ask you a question, Mr. Rappaport?"
"Of course."
"Why are you doing all this for a boy you barely know?"
Sam gave him a modest shrug. "It's what I'd do for all my boys."
After Todd walked Sam to the door and said goodbye, he went back into the
livingroom where his father was now wearing an expression that Todd couldn't
quite read. He was granite again. He beckoned Todd to him and the child moved
slowly, grateful but cautious.
"So, my son is going to be a big football star, is he? Are you going to make
your father proud?"
Todd began to feel encouraged by his father's interest and acceptance. He
lifted his face to look Peter in the eye.
"Yes, sir, I'll try," he said, eagerly, "Thank you, Daddy, for letting me-"
His words were cut off with a stinging slap to his cheek that rocked his head
backward. Peter's hand was so big, it covered over half of Todd's face.
"Owww Dad!" Todd whined, too surprised not to react.
"Be quiet. That's for bringing strangers into this house, people from your
school, no less. I warned you about bringing people here and telling them our
business and what did you do? You get some lawyer/coach to come here and plead
your case for you after I already told you no. You knew it would be harder for
me to explain why you couldn't do it to someone else, and that I'd have to say
yes. That was your sneaky little plan from the start, wasn't it? Don't lie to
me."
"N-no sir!" Todd protested, vainly hoping to stave off more flying hands, "It
was Sa-- Mr. Rappaport's idea. I told him what you said, but he wanted to
come. He asked me to-- I didn't mean to-- I didn't plan-- I didn't--" Todd
stammered helplessly, fear gripping his heart.
Peter watched him, his angry expression turning almost gentle. It still
unsettled Todd the way his father's mood could change so quickly.
"Alright. Hush. I know you wouldn't dare lie to me. You know what would happen
if you did, and you'd deserve it. I believe you this time. But if it were your
idea, you would 've gotten a lot worse than just a little smack, you know
that, don't you?"
"Yes sir," he agreed. He was still frightened, but relieved that no more
punishment was coming.
"And don't make me tell you again. Don't tell *anyone* what goes on in this
house. That's our business, no one elses, understand? Is any of this
penetrating that thick skull of yours, Todd?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Fine. Go to bed. I don't want to hear a peep out of you for the rest of the
night."
He turned his back on Todd, and Todd took his cue to hurry upstairs to his
room. He rubbed his sore cheek, but now that his father was out of sight, he
could allow himself a smile. He couldn't suppress the happiness he was
feeling. He was going to be able to get out of the house, as cold and empty as
a tomb since his mother left, and be able to play with the other kids. And he
was going to be good, he promised himself. He'd practice everyday, and he
would make his father proud of him. Then maybe things between him and his
father would get better. They had to.