An assistant football coach named Willis, one of two white guys on the staff, was in charge of bulking up the team. At first he told Sooley that the weight room was a waste of time for basketball players, but Sooley persisted. By then the African kid with the big smile was one of the more popular fixtures in the locker room.
Willis found a workout plan for basketball players, one designed to strengthen the core and add a few inches to the chest and biceps without restricting flexibility. He showed Samuel the proper and safe way to use the weight machines, weighted bars, bands, and dumbbells. He measured him at 6'5" and weighed him at 195. And he gave him a key to the weight room.
After six weeks on campus, Samuel had fallen into the rather enjoyable routine of beginning each day with an hour or so alone shooting baskets, then an hour or so working as an equipment manager, then at least two hard hours on the court in practice, and a final hour in the weight room. His studies were not motivating and he was cutting more classes than permitted. He had trouble concentrating and was bored with the notion of homework. Besides, he was on the slow track to diddle for a year as a redshirt. That meant five years of college. Surely that was enough. He could always catch up later.
* * *
·?·?·
Ernie Walker put the finishing touches on a pork shoulder that would be roasted for two hours in the same deep dish with potatoes, beets, and carrots. He admired his work, checked the oven, and slid in the pan. He and Ida both enjoyed cooking, and they had decided that Wednesday nights would be the family dinner with Murray and Samuel.
Though the Central campus was only ten minutes away, they had seen little of their youngest son during his first semester. He wanted to cut the cord and they did not resist. But during the spring of freshman year, word spread among his teammates that his family had a nice house in town and there was always something good to eat. Ida and Ernie had found themselves cooking more and more. Now that they had quietly decided to unofficially adopt Samuel, they were enticing the boys with Wednesday dinners, Saturday cookouts, and Sunday brunches after church.
Ida called and said she was running late. Ernie assured her that their dinner was in good hands. She called him at least four times a day with updates on her hectic schedule, and around five every afternoon she called to inform him she was running late again. He always listened patiently and reminded her to slow down. She was the boss and could come and go as she pleased, but with a staff of younger attorneys she believed in setting the right example. She worked harder than any of them and often needed the calm, steady voice of her husband to settle her nerves.
Ernie checked the oven, set the table, poured himself a glass of ice tea, no sugar, and went to the den to read for a few minutes. He had a stack of newspaper and magazine articles he’d found on the internet at his office and began reading a long piece from The Guardian. The journalist had visited four of the refugee settlements in Uganda and described the daily lives of the people, almost all of whom were from South Sudan.
The disconnect seemed too far-fetched. It was difficult to believe that the nice young man rooming with their son had a mother and two brothers living in a dismal place known as the Rhino Camp Refugee Settlement. Ernie and Ida were talking to Ms. Keyser at the IRC and brainstorming ways to extract Beatrice and the boys, to get them into the immigration pipeline to America. But the sad truth was that there were at least half a million South Sudanese ahead of them, most with sponsors and paperwork properly on file. Ms. Keyser was too professional to use the word “hopeless,” but after several conversations it was apparent that the chances of a family reunion were slim.
Ida arrived after six and immediately went to the oven for a quick inspection. “Who’s coming? Do we know?” she asked Ernie.
“Of course not. That would require some forethought.”
The table was set for five but the number was always a moving target. Murray was often not bothered with notions of planning and was known to invite anyone he passed in the dormitory hallway. He might call home with the number of guests, or he might not. His invitations were usually limited, though, by the number of friends he could stuff into the cab of his Toyota pickup. Four long-legged basketball players seemed to be the max.
When he walked in with just Samuel, his parents were relieved. Murray immediately went to the oven and as his mother said, “Don’t open that!” he yanked it open and took a whiff. “Smells delicious.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Ernie said.
“Close the oven!” Ida growled as she stepped toward him. He grabbed her and lifted her and spun her around as she tried to free herself. Ernie laughed as Ida squealed, and once again Samuel was astonished at the horseplay.