My best pal (Fictional)

I wasn’t always the way I am nowadays. I remember when my best friend, Joey used to come to my apartment on Eighth Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn, to ask my mom if he could take me out to play with the rest of the neighborhood kids. Mom would always smile at Joe and say: “Sure, Joe, have lots of fun but first, take some of these cookies.”

            I used to play stickball with the guys. The sewer plate in the middle of the street— the one that had purple bubble gum stuck on it—would always be home plate. First base was Mr. O’Malley’s car tail-light. Second base was the next sewer plate, and third base, was the Johnny pump across the street from Mr. O’Malley’s car. I remember one time I hit the pink spalding rubber ball so hard the it split in two, and another time Joey socked one all the way down the block. Must have passed three or four sewer plates.

            A few times the pink ball got away from us and rolled right into the opened sewer hole on the side of the curb. That’s when we used our trusty coat hanger to retrieve it ‘cause I certainly wasn’t sticking my arm down there in that muck to grab it.

            Then one Saturday, when the traffic was a lot busier on the block, I remember hearing Joey scream my name. I was trying to track down a fly ball that was hit my way but the sun kept getting in the way. The last sound I heard was a deafening screech of tires sliding against asphalt. Then there was an unbearable pain in my hip and I saw trees and cars spinning around me while a breeze whisked by me until I felt my whole body draped like a wet dish rag on the hood of a parked car. I couldn’t speak and all I saw was my own blood coursing down the side of the car. Helpless and unable to move, I felt a heavy weight close my eyelids shut.

            I never ran for a fly ball after that and never played in the street either. Stickball was a thing of the past. I dream of running for one more fly ball—heck I wouldn’t mind going after a spalding that fell in the sewer—muck or no muck. But I can’t. No, nowadays I’m in an ungodly looking wheelchair, trapped. Have been ever since that accident. My hip was destroyed, paralyzing me from the waist down and I lost all feeling in my right arm.

            Still, Joey comes by every day and carries me down three flights of stairs and then gets my chair, so I can watch the other guys play. I cheer from the sidewalk and keep score for all the games.

            I know I’ll never walk again, but I really don’t think it will bother me. You see, I figure as long as I have a friend like Joey, walking is going to be the least of my problems.