The Chosen

'Yes, sir: 'Don't talk so much. Just take it easy: 'They're a tough team,' I said.

'That Saunders boy,' Mr Galanter said, 'the one who hit you. You know anything about him?'

'No, sir: 'I never saw a boy hit a ball like that.'

'Mr Galanter?'

'Yes?'

'My eye really hurts: 'We'll be going in in a minute, boy. Hold on. Would your father be home now?'

'Yes, sir: 'What's your phone number?'

I gave it to him.

A nurse came out the door and nodded to us. Mr Galanter helped me get to my feet. We walked through a corridor and followed the nurse into an examination room. It had white walls, a white chair, a white, glass-enclosed cabinet, and a tall metal table with a white sheet over the mattress. Mr Galanter helped me onto the table, and I lay there and stared up at the white ceiling out of my right eye.

'The doctor will be here in a moment,' the nurse said, and went out.

'Feel any better?' Mr Galanter asked me.

'No,' I said.

A young doctor came in. He had on a white gown and was wearing a stethoscope around his neck. He looked at us and smiled pleasantly.

'Stopped a ball with your eye, I hear,' he said, smiling at me. 'Let's have a look at it.'

I took off the wet handkerchief, opened my left eye, and gasped with the paint He looked down at the eye, went to the cabinet, came back, and looked at the eye again through an instrument with a light attached to it. He straightened up and looked at Mr Galanter.

'Was he wearing glasses?' he asked.

'Yes.'.

The doctor put the instrument over the eye again. 'Can you see the light?' he asked me.

'It's a little blurred,' I told him.

'I think I'll go call your father,' Mr Galanter said.

The doctor looked at him. 'You're not the boy's father?'

'I'm his gym teacher.'

'You had better call his father, then. We'll probably be moving him upstairs.'

'You're going to keep him here?'

'For a little while,' the doctor said pleasantly. 'Just as a precaution.'

'Oh,' Mr Galanter said.

'Could you ask my father to bring my other pair of glasses?' I said.

'You won't be able to wear glasses for a while, son,' the doctor told me. 'We'll have to put a bandage over that eye.'

'I'll be right back,' Mr Galanter said, and went out.

'How does your head feel?' the doctor asked me.

'It hurts.'

'Does that hurt?' he asked, moving my head from side to side. I felt myself break out into a cold sweat.

'Yes, sir,' I said.

'Do you feel nauseous at all?'

'A little,' I said. 'My left wrist hurts, too.'

'Let's take a look at it. Does that hurt?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well, you really put in a full day. Who won?'

'They did.'

'Too bad. Now look, you lie as quiet as you can and try not to blink your eyes. I'll be right back.'

He went out quickly.

I lay very still on the table. Except for the time I had had my tonsils out I had never been overnight in a hospital. I was frightened, and I wondered what was causing the pain in my eye. Some of the glass from the lens must have scratched it, I thought. I wondered why I hadn't anticipated Danny Saunders' going for the curve, and, thinking of Danny Saunders, I found myself bating him again and all the other side-curled fringe wearers on his yeshiva team. I thought of my father receiving the phone call from Mr Galanter and rushing over to the hospital, and I had to hold myself back from crying. He was probably sitting at· his desk, writing. The call would frighten him terribly. I found I could not keep back my tears, and I blinked a few times and winced with the pain.

The young doctor returned, and this time he had another doctor with him. The second doctor looked a little older: and had blond hair. He came over to me without a word and looked at my eye with the instrument.

I thought I saw him go tense. 'Is Snydman around?' he salid, looking through the instrument.'

'I passed him a few minutes ago,' the first doctor said.

'He had better have a look at it,' the second doctor said. He straightened slowly. 'You lie still now, son,' the first doctor said. 'A nurse will be in in a minute.'

They went out. A nurse came in and smiled at me. 'This won't hurt a bit,' she said, and put some drops into my left eye. 'Now keep it closed and put this bit of cotton over it. That's a good boy.' She went out.

Mr Galanter came back. 'He's on his way over,' he said.

'How did he sound?'

'I don't know. He said he'd be right over.'

'It's not good for him to be worried. He's not too well.'

'You'll be okay, boy. This is a fine hospital. How's the eye?'

'It feels better. They put some drops in it.'

'Good. Good. I told you this is a fine hospital. Had my appendix out here.'

Three men came into the room, the two doctors and a short, middle-aged man with a round face and a graying mustache. He had dark hair and was not wearing a gown.

'This is Dr Snydman, son,' the first doctor said to me. 'He wants to have a look at your eye.'

Dr Snydman came over to me and smiled. 'I hear you had quite a ball game there, young man. Let's have a look.' He had a warm smile, and I liked him immediately. He took the cotton off the eye and looked through the instrument. He looked at the eye a long time. Then he straightened slowly and turned to Mr Galanter.

'Are you the boy's father?'

'I called his father,' Mr Galanter said. 'He's coming over right away.'

'We'll need his signature,' Dr Snydman said. He turned to the other two doctors. 'I don't think so,' he said. 'I think it's right on the edge. I'll have to have a better look at it upstairs.' He turned to me and smiled warmly.

'An eye is not a thing to stop a ball with, young man.'

'He hit it real fast,' I said.

'I'm sure he did. We're going to have you brought upstairs so we can have a better look at it.' The three doctors went out.

'What's upstairs?' I asked Mr Galanter.

'The eye ward, 1 guess. They have all the big instruments up there: 'What do they want to look at it up there for?'

'I don't know, boy. They didn't tell me anything.'

Two hospital orderlies came into the room, wheeling a stretcher table. When they lifted me off the examination table, the pain rammed through my head and sent flashes of black, red and white colors into my eyes. I cried out.

'Sorry, kid, ' one of, the orderlies said sympathetically. They put me down carefully on the stretcher table and wheeled me out of the room and along the corridor. Mr Galanter followed.

'Here's the elevator,' the other orderly said. They were both young and looked almost alike in their white jackets, white trousers, and white shoes.

The elevator took a long time going up. I lay on the stretcher table, staring up out of my right eye at the fluorescent light on the ceiling. It looked blurred, and I saw it change color, going from white to red to black, then back to white.

'I never saw a light like that,' I said.

'Which light is that?' one of the orderlies asked.

'The fluorescent. How do they get it to change colours like that?'

The orderlies looked at each other.

'Just take it easy, kid,' one of them said. 'Just relax.'

'I never saw a light change colors like that,' I said.

'Jesus,' Mr Galanter said under his breath.

He was standing alongside the stretcher table with his back·to the rear of the elevator. I tried turning my head to look at him, but the pain was too much and I lay still. I had never heard him use that word before, and I wondered what had made him use it now. I lay there, staring up at the light and wondering why Mr Galanter had used that word, when I saw one of the orderlies glance down at me with a reassuring grin. I remembered Danny Saunders, standing in front of the plate and staring at me with that idiotic grin on his lips. I closed my right eye and lay still, listening to the noise of the elevator. This is a slow elevator, I thought. But how do they get the light to change colors like that? Then the light was bad all over and everyone crowded around me. Someone was wiping my forehead, and the light was suddenly gone.