CHAPTER 33

On Sunday morning, as the dorms closed, Murray and Samuel stuffed their backpacks and duffels and hauled their dirty laundry to the Walker home ten minutes away. Murray timed their 10: 15 arrival perfectly. His parents would be leaving for church and he had no desire to go with them. Sooley said he needed a break too. Secretly, he was baffled by their Protestant worship and often attended Mass alone.

To their pleasant surprise, Miss Ida had decided to cook instead and said she needed the morning off. She welcomed her boys with big hugs and chocolate waffles. As Ernie fried bacon, she showed them around the house and bragged on her Christmas decorations. The colorful tree was the tallest one Samuel had ever seen.

He was delighted at the thought of hanging around the warm house for the next few days, eating huge meals, sleeping at all hours, and, most inviting, spending time with Jordan, who would arrive on Monday night.

“You’re still growing, ” Miss Ida said at one point, as she checked him out from head to toe. “How much do you weigh? ”

“Two ten. ”

She playfully tapped his chest and said, “You look thicker in the shoulders. ”

Murray said, “He lives in the weight room, Mom. He’s gained twenty pounds this semester. Thinks he’s playing football. ”

Samuel laughed and said, “Well, I’m sure not playing basketball. ”

“That makes two of us, ” Murray said and managed a laugh, but it was forced. He wasn’t playing much and his frustration was growing. Samuel listened to his complaints and tried to encourage him, but losing pollutes an entire locker room and there was some dissension. Privately, Samuel was of the opinion that 10 minutes a game was about what his roommate deserved.

He had gained exactly twenty-two pounds since August. Between the weight room, the long dinners at Miss Ida’s table, and a wide-open training table, Samuel was adding pounds and most of it appeared to be muscle. On two occasions, in practice, Coach Britt had quizzed him about off-court workouts. Although he preferred his players lean and flexible, he found it hard to quarrel with the sculpted biceps and thicker legs. Plus, he was only a redshirt, barely eighteen years old, and Lonnie decided to let him pump as much iron as he wanted.

Sooley now stood 78½ inches tall and the added height and weight had not slowed him down. He was easily the fastest and quickest on the team, and his vertical leap was up to an astonishing 46 inches. During the long bus ride back from D. C., one of the assistants, Ron McCoy, had broached the subject of jettisoning the redshirt business and giving the kid some minutes. What was the benefit in waiting? The season could not get much worse. Lonnie listened without much of a protest and promised to discuss it later. With two injured, the roster was down to eleven players. One was a redshirt freshman. One was a walk-on who had trouble scoring in practice.

After a languid brunch, Ernie and the boys cleaned the kitchen, then settled into the den for a long afternoon of NFL playoffs. Watching football with Sooley was painful because he wouldn’t shut up. He questioned everything about the game and seemed to absorb none of it.

Miss Ida left them to go shopping.

· · ·

At seven Wednesday morning, Samuel eased through the kitchen and waited in the garage for the weekly call from Christine Moran. It came fifteen minutes late, and she explained that their phone system was not working properly and minutes were scarce. Could he please limit the call to ten minutes? He said sure and thanked her as always, then heard the soft voice of his mother. “Merry Christmas, Samuel. ”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mother. How are you? ” He closed his eyes and shook his head and wondered how anyone living in a tent in a refugee camp could possibly think about passing along season’s greetings. He could not imagine how hopeless and depressing the holidays must be, and he could not help but think of their last Christmas together as a family.

She said James and Chol were doing well in school and still talking about Coach Ecko Lam’s surprise visit the week before. They were proudly wearing their Central caps and tee shirts and were the envy of the neighborhood. The fact that their older brother was in America playing basketball gave them an elevated status. Beatrice promised to say a prayer for Samuel during Christmas Mass, and he promised to remember them too. He couldn’t forget them and told his mother he thought of them every minute of the day.

The call was too brief and when it ended, Samuel sat in a lawn chair, in the darkness, and longed for his family.

· · ·

Their church was packed for the Christmas Eve service, a remarkable celebration that Samuel enjoyed. The preacher throttled back and gave a shorter sermon. The youth group, in full costume, performed a Nativity skit. The children’s choir, in matching burgundy robes, stole the show with their carols. The adult choir rattled the windows with “Go Tell It on the Mountain” and “The Holy Baby. ” Jordan explained to Samuel, in a whisper, that the songs had been handed down by generations of African Americans.

· · ·

Late the next morning, the family gathered around the tree and exchanged gifts. The pile included clothes for the boys, jeans and casual shirts for school, and perfume and a gold necklace for Jordan. Samuel’s big gift was a navy blazer, his first. Jordan gave him a beautiful necktie. He was overwhelmed by their generosity and almost speechless at the number of gifts. He had managed to save a few bucks and had surprises of his own: a bottle of perfume for Miss Ida, a large chef’s apron for Ernie, a leather belt for Murray, and for Jordan, a set of small earrings that she immediately put on. They were touched by his thoughtfulness and felt guilty for receiving the gifts, but they did nothing to dampen his spirits.

By the time the gifts were all finally unwrapped they were famished. Jordan put on a CD of Christmas songs as the family moved to the kitchen where every Walker tried to assume command.

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