play volleyball. But how would you know? You’ve never come to watch
me
play.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I forgot you play volleyball.” Pete lowered his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
“Anyway, that doesn’t change the complexion of things. I still think that Jabber owes it to Dad’s memory to be a football
player.”
“And
I
don’t think he does,” said Karen.
“You may not understand Pete’s feelings, Karen,” said Mrs. Morris. “You’re seventeen years old, and you’re a smart girl, I’m
not taking that away from you. In fact, I’m very proud of you. But at seventeen you’ve still got a lot to learn. I’m in my
forties, and Lord knows I’ve still got a lot to learn too.”
“I’m glad you said that, Mom,” Karen said, smiling.
“Your father loved football very much,” Mrs. Morris went on. “He played it when he was a young boy. He played it when he was
in high school. How do you think he was able to go to college? It was on a football scholarship. He never paid a penny for
his college education. Then he played professionally,and made a lot of money. We didn’t get rich, but we lived quite comfortably. Almost too comfortably, because we didn’t save
much money. Even when he retired and went into business your father didn’t believe in having a lot of money stuck away in
the savings bank.” She chuckled drily. “I should talk. I guess I didn’t, either. Anyway, that all ended when he got killed
in the accident.”
She paused briefly. She was having a hard time keeping her emotions under control.
“When you boys were born he bought a football and a helmet for each of you,” she went on. “The footballs have long since worn
out, but the helmets still hang in your closets. That was indication enough that he wanted both of you to play the one sport
he liked best. And Jabber, though you can do what you want, remember that sport wasn’t soccer.”
It hurt Jabber to listen to her reminding him about it. She had hinted at it before, but this was the first time she had really
laid it on the line.
Well, of course, much of what she and Pete said was true. Football was a great sport. And maybe if his father had played soccer,
Mom and Pete would have felt the same way about it. But maybe theydidn’t understand everything, either. How could they? Neither one of them could possibly understand
everything
.
“One thing you two don’t seem to understand,” Jabber addressed his mother and Pete, “is that I enjoy soccer, and I don’t enjoy
football. And if you don’t enjoy a sport, how could you be good at it?”
“I can’t see any red-blooded kid not enjoying football,” Pete said.
“Oh, come off that,” Karen broke in. “You can’t be serious.”
“Serious? Listen —”
“Okay, okay.” Mrs. Morris interrupted Pete as she and Karen placed the pots of steaming chicken, potatoes, and baby lima beans
on the table. “Let’s quit talking about football and soccer before the subject really gets out of hand. Anyway, I’m starving.
Jabber sat down, glad that the soccer-football controversy was over for the moment, and suddenly felt the lump in his back
pocket. The lump that was Pete’s wallet.
His decision whether to tell Pete about it or not swung back and forth like a pendulum. Should he orshould he not take it out and hand it over to Pete? And what would Pete say?
“Jabber, did you hear me?”
He looked at his mother. “I’m sorry, Mom. What did you say?”
“Hold your dish up here so that I can give you some potatoes,” she said. “Where’s your mind, anyway? On the moon?”
His hand wasn’t too steady as he held up the dish.
“You’re awfully nervous,” his mother observed. “Did our talk cause it? I’m sorry.”
“When are you going to make hot dogs and sauerkraut again?” he asked. “You haven’t made it in a long time.”
“One of these days,” she said.
“Hot dogs and sauerkraut,”