Page 88 of Sideline Play

“I know,” she sighs, completely distracted from my slipping attention. “It’s just the stress talking but… would it be so bad if maybe we?—”

“What brand is your birth control?”

Pulling back, her head tilts to the side in puzzlement as she says, “Um… that’s random.”

It doesn’t matter how many times I read the headline or its caption, my mind isn’t comprehending the words. In fact, it’s outright refusing to believe them. So much so, I think I hear myself say, “No,” as if my denial will change anything.

She takes her pill every single night without fail. Some nights we’re off by a few hours but she never lapses for more than two or three. So this can’t be possible. She has to be one of the ones unaffected. I mean surely we would’ve noticed if herbirth control was no longer effective. Wouldn’t something have changed in her cycle?

I’ve nearly managed to convince myself that we haven’t caused irreparable harm to her career aspirations when I hear, “REMINGTON!” Scarlet’s voice loud and sharp like a slap to the face. She physically shakes me to draw my attention to her searching eyes, her chest rising and falling as she tries to keep calm.

“Remington?” she repeats, her voice steady but soft and laced with concern when I look at her.

Fuck. I’ve been so absorbed in poking holes in the news story, I completely checked out on her. Cupping her face, I kiss her quickly and promise, “Don’t worry, baby girl; we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry? How can you expect me to not worry?” she cries, pressing two fingers to the pulse in my neck while grabbing my watch. Shaking her head, she shoves the health read out in front of my face and says, “Do you see this? You just had a tachycardia episode! And unless you’ve somehow managed to keep a heart condition hidden from us for eight seasons, this is cause to panic!”

“Tachycardia? What’s that?”

“It’s when you have an inexplicable spike in your heart rate. We train you between 95 and 135 beats per minute and you just hit 156 while at rest and were unresponsive for nearly five minutes,” she explains shortly, dropping her phone beside me where it begins to ring, fingers returning to my pulse.

“Hey Scarlet, how’s it?—”

“Jennings?” she cries, snatching her phone. “Thank God, I don’t know what to do and Dr. Watson didn’t answer.”

I try to get up as she starts to pace, her hand fanning herself as she gasps for breath only for her to push me back down. “Sit. I don’t know what’s going on and you’re freaking me out, so just… sit.”

The change in his voice is immediate, when he asks, “What happened?” It’s the same tone he uses when he has to come out to the field and begin immediately assessing a potential injury. Calm, smooth, detached, analytical, and it seems to be exactly what Scarlet needs as the tremble in her hands begins to abate.

“I don’t know. We were talking. I was in his lap complaining about Brady and school, and then all of a sudden his breathing was shallow, he was sweating, and then his watch started shooting off notifications about his heart rate. I know it’s not a heart attack but could it be delayed complications from surgery? Should I take him to the hospital? I should take him to the ER, yeah? Maybe an urgent care?”

“Scarlet,breathe,” Jennings instructs. “You’re no help if you panic.”

Sucking in a breath, she nods, “Right, sorry, I just…” looking at me, her lip trembles, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispers, “he’s my husband…”

“I had wondered if you would be able to detach with Remington. We’ll have to sort this out ahead of Spring Training,” Jennings offhandedly notes. Louder he says, “Remington, how are you feeling right now?”

“Confused,” I answer honestly. “I don’t understand why y’all are focused on me. It’s Scar we need to… need too…” then I feel it. The same pressure in my chest that happened right before everything else Scarlet said occurred.

“Jennings, it’s happening again!” she shouts, coming to kneel between my legs, my suddenly hot and sweaty hands clasped between hers.

“Remington, can you hear me?”

His question sounds as if it’s coming through water, distorted and slow, but I can hear him so I nod.

“He’s nodding his head,” Scarlet relays, her fingers slow, or possibly my vision is slow, as she taps on her phone before bringing the camera up to me.

I briefly see him studying me through the screen before I close my eyes and let my head fall back on the couch, my hands beginning to twitch. I don’t understand why they seem to be so calm about the situation at hand. My wife could be fucking pregnant and all they seem to want to talk about is my goddamn heart rate.

Since I can’t get a word in edgewise unless it's a direct answer to one of their questions, I hook my hands under Scar’s arms and lift her up off the floor. Gently depositing her on the couch, I grab the remote and point it at the TV that’s begun playing the NFL pregame show. Hitting the rewind button, I back track to the news. When I reach the start of the headline, I unmute the TV and turn to face her and Jennings.

“Isn’t that your birth control brand?”

“Oh my God…” she breathes, standing up and coming over to me as the announcers talk about the nationwide recall that has gone into effect in light of reports that confirm at least two lots were distributed with tainted progestin, virtually making them ineffective.

Stumbling, she goes to sit back on the couch only to sink to the floor, her hand batting around for her phone until we hear the video call with Jennings disconnect. She has me play the news story back twice more, her face alarmingly empty of all expression as the information sinks in.

When the story concludes again, Scarlet looks up at me, her mouth opening and closing without sound several times before she whispers, “I can’t… I don’t want to know yet,” her voice cracking at the end as she wrings her hands in her lap, her teeth painfully sinking into her lip until I pull it free.

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