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Path To GloryChapter 26 free porn video
I had to appear at a press conference the night before to give an update. It sucked, but the hospital switchboard was getting inundated with calls, so I agreed. The doctor urged me to keep everything vague, and since I didn't know shit anyway, it wasn't hard.
At the least the girl who stayed at my bedside seemed to know enough about the 20-year-old me to help me write my comments. She seemed really nice and it gave me hope that I had truly turned out better than I had expected.
I did my best to lose my accent for the conference and I think I did OK. I told them I'd answer no questions. I told them I had refused the doctor permission to answer any questions. I told them I had refused the hospital permission to answer any questions.
"Basically, what I'm saying is quit calling here," I said. "No one is able to answer your questions except the doctor and me. Neither one of us is going to. I know you have a job to do, and God forbid, the gamblers in Las Vegas don't have the updated injury report. So on Wednesdays between 8:50 and 9 a.m., I have asked the UK Sports Information Department to release a brief statement about my condition.
"I will compile the release myself, so there's no use trying to contact the school beforehand. If the less responsible among your brethren insist upon bothering me, the hospital, the doctor or the athletic department, I will insist upon a complete blackout.
"For now, I am feeling fine. My health outside of a bump on the head and all that goes with it is fine. I have not lost consciousness except to sleep since I awoke. I am eating well. I am sleeping well. The doctors have told me to expect a full recovery."
Everything I told them was true — if only partially true. There were no outright falsehoods.
"Now, on to important matters," I said. "I have watched the play I was hurt on several times. I want to thank Arturo James for his compassion on the play and his quick thinking. It is my understanding that the outcome could have been significantly worse without the actions he took. I have thanked Mr. James and his family personally by telephone and I've been told he was one of the first people to visit with me here. I was asleep at the time however.
"I also have watched the debate in the media about whether Mr. James' hit was reckless or excessive. His hit was, simply, football. Any injury I sustained on the play was one I was aware was possible, and it was one that is my own fault.
"Please listen carefully. My injury is my own responsibility ... My throwing motion caused my head to dip. Mr. James was trying to make a hard tackle. There is no doubt about that and there is nothing wrong with that. The helmet-to-helmet contact was a result of my actions and the fact that Mr. James was unable to alter his path.
"It has been mentioned to me that the NCAA may suspend Mr. James because of the hit. If Mr. James is suspended for one game, I will sit out the next game I'm cleared to play in as a protest. If his suspension is two or three games, then I'm sitting those games too. I have spoken to Coach Brown and he has agreed, 100 percent I should add, to back my decision.
"I hope the NCAA will take my position into consideration when reviewing this play.
"Thank you all for coming — and remember: Don't call us. We'll call you."
The first memory I have, from the four years I lost, was of a little girl with no hair. Even now I'm not sure if it was Ilsa, Sara or one of the others I'd visited. The UK sweatshirt girl was wheeling me out when I saw a sign for the children's wing.
"Did I get any flowers or shit like that?" I asked UK girl. I knew I'd gotten a stack of cards during my two days in the hospital, but there were no flowers.
UK girl laughed. My God she was pretty.
"Hundreds of bouquets," she said. "I told them to put them in the children's wing. The balloons, too. I hope that's alright. I know that's what R.J. would have wanted done with them, and the decision was made before you woke up."
It was then a little bald headed girl popped into my head.
"That was the perfect choice," I said. "I hope they get a little joy from them.
"I know a little girl with cancer, don't I?"
UK girl nodded sadly.
"You know a lot of children with cancer," she said. "Teenaged boys, little girls, babies."
I told her I thought this one meant a lot to me because I remembered her.
"Honey," she said with a tear in her eye. "They all mean a lot to you. There are a couple it could be, but I don't think you play favorites."
For some reason I was glad I'd turned out OK.
As I dozed on the way home, I figured out who UK girl was. It was a little disconcerting.
"Beth," I said when I woke up. "I need you to pull off the road. I'm going to be sick."
She was off the road before she realized I called her by name.
When I was done puking, she was smiling like crazy.
"So you remember me, do you?" she said.
I told her I remember parts, but I couldn't figure some things out.
"Why have you spent so much time here," I asked. "You hate me. I remember you refusing to eat at the same table as me. At least I think I do."
Her guilty look confirmed it.
"First of all, I don't hate you," she said, "I love you dearly.
"What you remember was a long time ago. I was hoping that was one of a few things you would never remember. We got past my bitchy phase.
"We actually became good friends and we share an apartment."
"So you are my girlfriend," I said.
"No, but I used to be," she said. "We got past that phase, too. Now we're more like brother and sister. To answer your first question, I refused to leave your side for two reasons. First, I have medical power of attorney for you, and you technically are incompetent to make decisions for yourself.
"The second is because they couldn't have pried me away with a dump truck. We're like best friends, bosom buddies and brother and sister rolled into one."
I guess that was good enough.
"I was really hoping you were my girlfriend," I said. "I guess the whole brother-sister thing pretty much keeps me from hitting on you, huh? You're hot."
Beth laughed again.
"Yes I am," she said. "But your girlfriend is actually an upgrade from me. Just wait until you remember her, big boy."
When we hit the car again, I tried my hardest to remember some other things, but I couldn't. I even tried to steal a peek at a newspaper when we stopped for gas, but Beth stopped me. I was blacked out on current events — except those that involved me directly — until I could come up with them myself.
"Don't try to remember," she advised. "The doctor said it'll come back when you're not trying."
I closed my eyes and tried to piece together what I knew. I could probably fool Beth into letting me know some things if I lost my accent and used references from what I already knew.
"The other girl at the hospital is my girlfriend," I said and somehow I knew it was true. "I don't remember her name for some reason, but I know I like her a lot. I can tell I feel the same way about her that I feel about you."
It was true. I would like to screw both of them, preferably at the same time. While Beth had let the whole brother-sister thing slip, I was still pretty sure I could bang her if I got the chance. Of course when I was 16, I was pretty sure I could bang any girl, if I put a little effort into it.
Beth obviously was smarter than I was.
"Nice try," she said. "If you come up with a name, I'll give you more info. Do you remember my last name yet?"
I admitted I didn't.
It took us a long time to drive, considering that I got motion sick every time my eyes were open for a few minutes. Finally we stopped at a hotel just outside of Knoxville for the night. When Beth went into the bathroom, I heard her lock the door.
I had remembered bits and pieces of things during the drive but the sound of the bathroom door locking brought a rush of memories back.
"I've been meaning to ask you for a while why you lock the bathroom door when you go in," I said. "Do you mind telling me now?"
She told me it was just a habit.
"No it's not," I said. "I remember you going to the bathroom with the door open. I remember you walking in on me using the bathroom. Locking the door is a new development."
She ignored my question and asked me what else I remember.
"Ferguson," I said. "I recall Mack and Ellie. I remember the apartment and the pool.
"Beth," I said. "I don't get the impression that my feelings toward you are entirely sibling-like.
"I have a very vivid image of you lying on my bed naked. I think it is an image I'd like to see again."
I really wasn't trying to pull one over on Beth. I was serious.
"There are times, R.J., when the line has blurred," she said. "When my boyfriend and I broke up a year ago, you were going through a break up at the same time. We blurred the lines quite a few times.
"When you met your present girlfriend, we stopped. There are times I'd like to be less sisterly and I think there are times you'd like to be less brotherly. But we don't, because we know that it would wind up with one of us — and my parents who think of you as their son — getting hurt.
"I think our love for one another transcends a physical relationship and we're not willing to risk that, regardless of how much we might want to from time to time. I lock the bathroom door because you and I have had many fun times in various bathrooms. It's just insurance to make sure I don't invite you in, and you don't ask to come in."
At least I was getting answers - even if they weren't the ones I wanted.
"So I really care about my girlfriend?" I asked. It bothered me I couldn't even remember her face. "Why don't you call Mack and Ellie and let them know I'm starting to piece things together."
She called her parents and filled them in and we talked some more.
"It's weird, Beth," I said. "Things are not coming back sequentially. It's just like random memories and I can't place them in context to others.
"I'm aware I have a serious girlfriend. And I'm aware that I love her. I don't know who she is, and even though I just saw her a couple of days ago, I can't place the face. But I can't shake the feeling that you and I have a deep relationship as well. Maybe deeper than the one I have with my girlfriend.
Yvette
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