Always had a short fuse but now its permanently lit. Okay, it was never hard to set Will off. It used to be a game I played, mostly just for kicks. It was funny, watching the blood throb in his temples.
But sometimes, when trouble was staring at me and I wanted to aim it in a different direction, Id rile Will up until he blew. Then, when Mom or Dad started griping about my behavior, Id point at my brother, all red-faced and cussing, and ask, What about Will? I never thought Id get sick of that question.
Check It Out
Its been a long time since Ive said it straight to my brothers face, but I love him, wicked bad temper and all. We used to be best friend brothers. Wills seventeen, which makes him five years older, and Ive always looked up to him. Mostly because he never looked down on me.
When I was like four, and most other kids still rode tricycles, Will took the training wheels off my little blue bike and taught me to ride it. You cant keep up on fourwheels, Trace, he said. Even on two, it took a while, but eventually, I did. At least, I came close. Will also helped me learn how to Rollerblade skateboard and, best of all, snowboard. My first time on the slopes, I guess I was six.
Mom took Will and me. Dad stayed home. I remember he said he had to work, but later I found out hes not real big on cold weather. Why do you think we livein the desert? he asked. If I wanted to be miserable,Id move back to Minnesota. Sometimes I cant believe Im related to him, even though Ive got his curly brown hair and gold-speckled eyes. But I loved snow the minute I saw it, all crisp and sparkly, like quartz crystals in the sun.
As for the cold, thats why they invented jackets.
Luckily
Im also related to Mom, who grew up in Colorado, learned to ski young, and says snow is cold vanilla frosting on the mountaintops. She drove Will and me all the way from Las Vegas to Mammoth Mountain, paid for passes, equipment, two beginner lessons for me. Will had been there with her a few times before, and like everything sports, he had a real talent for snowboarding. He made it look easy. It wasnt.
I thought it would be just like skateboarding. It is, sort of, but its different, too. Just figuring out the boots and bindings took a while. Thats what lessonsare for, Mom said. When I finished them, I could pretty much make it down the easiest runs without falling. Will volunteered to stick with me and offer a few tips while Mom skied.
Once he knew Id nailed the basics, he took a few harder runs on his own. But he kept checking in, making sure I didnt nose-dive into a drift or surf off beginner slopes into the rough parts. Will watched out for me. Now I have to watch out for him. Last Christmas, I asked Mom if maybe we could spend a day out on the mountain before winter was over. I wish we could.But what about Will?
See, Will Used to Play Football
He started in Pop Warner when I still wore diapers, not that I remember way back then, but I heard about it plenty of times.
I wish we could.But what about Will?See, Will Used to Play Football
He started in Pop Warner when I still wore diapers, not that I remember way back then, but I heard about it plenty of times.
It was one of the things our parents argued about. Not the diapers. At least, I dont think so. But definitely the football. Mom worried about injuries. Dad insisted they were rare and every kid needed a sport.
Mom reminded him Will bladed and boarded. Dad said he meant team sports. Mom and Dad argued a lot before she left. That time, Dad won. I wonder if hes sorry now. Will played every game every season.
He was good. Quick. Sure-handed. Fearless. A reliable receiver who could pull double duty as a defensive end. That made him a target.
Over the years, Will took a lot of hits. Most of them didnt seem like much. Still, A small bump here,a little bang there.Those can add up, his doctor said. But it was the big one that knocked him out of the game forever. If I could just fix that, everything would be okay. But I cant.
Its unfixable.
Ill Never Forget It
And neither will anyone else who was there that night. It was the last JV game of the season, and Will wanted to impress the varsity coaches who were scouting for talent. I remember how proud I felt, watching him in his dark green-and-gold uniform. Mom was in the crowded stands with Dad and me, which was unusual. Shed already left us by then.
Maybe not officially, but she was on the road singing lead and playing guitar with her band a lot of the time. Obviously, she didnt go to many games. But that one was important to Will, and she happened to be in town, so she came along. It was the beginning of the fourth quarter. We were ahead, 147, and Will had scored one of our touchdowns. So when he got the ball again on the thirty-yard line, the other team wasnt about to let him run with it.
It was hard to see what happened. But even above the cheering, it was easy to hear. Hit from the back. Hit from the front. Wills helmet smashed into a defensive guys helmet. It sounded like a car crash.
As the two crumpled to the ground, the cheering stopped, replaced by gasps moans a chorus of nos a wail in my ear that turned out to be Mom. Players froze on the field. Coaches and refs ran to assess the wreckage. At least one somebody called 911. Mom jumped up, but Dad held her back. Wait. Wait.
Wed just be in the way. Hell be okay. She grabbed my hand, kept repeating Dads words: Hell be okay.