Page 113 of Secret Love

WASHED UP

HENLEY

I get out of bed and hobble to my closet, in a hurry to get ready for practice, before I remember that it’s not only evening and not time for practice, but I wouldn’t be at practice anyway. I crawl back into bed and groan, hoping that I can go back to sleep and not have to deal with all the shit going on in my head.

Sleep is the only time my head is quiet, and even then, my dreams aren’t always playing nice. But it’s still better than being awake and dealing with all the emotional junk.

I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want everyone else thinking about it either. I want everyone to go about their business and be happy, while I take a break from reality.

I’mtired. It’s been a long road. All the sacrifices I’ve made to play this game….the ways my body has been wrecked, the times I’ve missed with my family, the way my life is not my own, but every detail is broadcasted on the news channels like I’m up for public consumption.

It’s exhausting.

And as much as I’ve tried to keep this injury from consuming me, I think it’s caught up with me.

When I fall asleep again, it’s fitful, one nightmare after another.

“Henley?”

I turn to the sound and then feel my shoulder being shaken.

“Henley,” I hear, firmer this time.

I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, and Bowie comes into focus. He’s in my room, standing over me, and when he sees that I’m awake, he stands upright. My lamp is turned on and he glances around the room, wincing when he sees the disaster.

“So, this is how it is,” he says.

I feel ashamed, like I’ve just been caught with my pants down in church or something.

I sit up and Bowie’s nose twitches.

“Dude, when’s the last time you showered?”

“I was going to shower soon,” I tell him.

“Yeah, that’s a good call.” He starts picking up the pizza boxes, frowning when he feels how heavy they still are. “Were you done with these or have they been sitting out for a while?”

“They’ve been sitting out a while, but I can get it. I said I would let you all know when I was ready to start seeing people…”

He looks at me and swallows hard. “Let me help, Hen.”

I stare at him. “I’m fine, Bowie.”

“Clearly, you’re not.”

He moves around the room, picking up my trash and taking it downstairs. When he comes back, he has a bag and he finishes picking things up. I move to the bathroom and take a shower, careful not to get my fucking leg wet. Bowie is in the kitchen when I’m done getting cleaned up, and it’s a lot cleaner than the last time I saw it too.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“It’s the least I can do. You were there for me when I needed you. And there are so many people in your life who want to be there for you. I haven’t been through what you’re going through and I can only imagine how much it hurts, both physically and emotionally, but what are you fucking doing, man?”

I stare at him in surprise. Bowie doesn’t raise his voice often, and when he does, it’s on the field. He’s never raised his voice at me.

But apparently he’s not done.

“You have a woman who loves you. She would do anything for you, and she’s worried sick about you because you’ve completely shut her out.”

I look down at the floor. “I’m not what she signed up for. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. She shouldn’t be stuck playing nurse to some washed-up athlete.”

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