Page 15 of (Un)Rivaled

Cole sighed and resumed his swing, letting go of his question. As much as I felt bad for shutting him out, Cole understood and knew that I was a fort when it came to tough topics. If I didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t going to—just another thing we had in common.

But after this morning’s doctor’s visit, which my mom and I have been dreading all week, I need to get the words off my chest. And maybe, for once, it wouldn’t be the worst idea to keep all my fears buried down deep.

“It’s my dad,” I finally said. In the corner of my eye, I saw Cole put down the bat and move over to the side of the cage. He stood there but didn’t say anything, allowing me to continue my thoughts. “He’s having a hard time. Doc says he’s got about six months until he’s going to need to have full-time help”, I finally admit. “Six months left until he’s probably going to have to live in an assisted living facility.”

“Shit,” Cole hissed. “I’m sorry, man. We had no idea it was progressing this quickly.” He ran his hand over his face. “What about having someone come out to the house? Live in nurse?”

I shook my head, “My mom’s not comfortable with that. But at the same time, the idea of putting him into a home makes her cry. So I’m kind of stuck. I don’t really know what to do. “

“I’m sorry, man,” Cole said, scuffing his feet along the turf. “I thought he was doing okay.”

“He is,” I said. “Most days. But the good days are becoming fewer and further between. And he’s having a harder time keeping his memories straight. Last night, hethought I was in high school, fully convinced that he missed one of my baseball games. The doctor wants us to consider our options but also urged us to think fast. There’s no telling what might happen when he declines more.”

“What do you mean?”

This part was the most difficult to say out loud, so I kept it to myself. Even though the doctor never said it outright, I could pick up his insinuations. He was afraid for my mom. My dad was a big man. Even as he got further into his sixties, he was well over 6 feet and over 250 pounds of packed muscle. My mom was a waif of a woman, barely reaching his chin. If something was to happen, there was no way she’d ever be able to get him to safety or, god forbid, subdue him.

In his right mind, we all knew that my father would rather harm himself than ever put my mother in danger. But that was the thing. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he didn’t recognize any of us. It was hard enough getting him to calm down when I was in the room, and I had him by a couple of inches. While I had to trust that my father would never hurt my mom, accidents happened every day.

Just the thought seemed ridiculous. And even though I knew it was wishful thinking, I couldn’t imagine that no disease, no matter how dangerous it might be, would ever come between them. At the same time, I wasn’t a doctor. I didn’t know about timelines or disease progressions, or anything other than what I’d read online. I could only speak for my own lived experiences.

But I keep all that to myself, not wanting to burden Cole with all of my anxieties. I’d already shared more with him than I had anyone else in my life.

There were only three people in town who really knewabout my father’s sickness outside of our family. Well, six, if you counted their wives and girlfriends, because my friends could not keep any secrets from them.

Theo was the first one I told. It was the morning after Cole and Alex’s engagement party, the day after I found my dad wandering through town with no memory of who I was. He’d said he was going to the bathroom, and none of us thought anything of it. Not until twenty minutes later, when we still couldn’t find him. I spent hours driving down each road, fearing the worst. Eventually, I saw him sitting on a bench on Main Street. But the moment I approached, I knew something was horribly wrong.

After I drove him home and got him to bed, my mom broke down and told me about the diagnosis. She was trying to hide it from me until I had gone back home and was back in my routine. But from the moment I saw my father’s scared and frantic face, I knew that my life would never be the same. I knew that I could never walk away and live with myself. Could never live with the guilt if I left my dad when he needed me the most.

So, without thinking, without hesitation, I went to Theo, who had only been my agent for a handful of months at the time, and told him I needed out of my contract. If I had any doubts about the guy before, that moment silenced them. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t need to know why, and didn’t do anything other than be a sounding board for my fears and worries.

And all he said after I rambled on for an hour about my father and the treatment plans and everything else was that he would take care of it. That was all. But the next week, I was out of my contract, back in town, and living in the apartment above my parents’ garage. It's not where I saw myself on the cusp of 30, but it’s where I needed to be.

I glanced over my shoulder at Cole, making sure he was still there. He was there, a silent sentinel watching me, making sure I wasn’t going to fall.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said quietly.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cole said. “Whatever you guys need, you know we’ll all be there for you.”

I had no doubts about that. They’d all been there for my family since the moment I told all my friends about our deepest, darkest secret. I’d sworn them to secrecy because my mom wanted to deal with my father’s illness privately, and I knew that they would keep it safe. They were great, constantly checking in on my mom and making sure she was okay. They also went out of their way to spend time with my dad, making sure that they filled his days with as much love and laughter as possible. They were incredibly patient, especially Alex and Cole, even on the days when it took a while for him to recognize their faces.

Even though these people would never give my family by blood, that moment alone had cemented their role in my life. There was nothing more I wanted but to make my dad’s diagnosis disappear. Without that as a possibility, all I could ask for were good people in his corner, making sure he was supported for the rest of his days.

And my friends,my new family, had stepped up for that.

“Appreciate it,” I huffed, toying with the bat in my hands. “I’ve got to talk to my mom. See what she wants to do next.”

“But what do you think?” Cole said.

“I don’t want to give up yet. I know that there’s no cure, but there has to be something, anything, to give him more time. My dad’s a fighter, and he would never want us to sit back and watch himdeteriorate.”

Cole scratched the back of his head, “What about one of those trial things?”

“Clinical trials?” He nodded. “There’s a couple for early onset Alzheimer’s. One of the most promising ones is down in New York, so I’ve been talking to some of the doctors down there. Problem is, it takes months to get an open spot. Some of them take even years.”

I sighed with annoyance, knowing how many hours of my life I’d wasted looking at different trials, hoping for a miracle. There were several that claimed they could heal him for a sizeable fee, but all of those weren’t linked to reputable hospitals.

His best bet was in New York City, a trial at one of the best hospitals in the country. But the selection process was complex, and it was hard to get into. Not only was it costly, which I had covered thanks to my baseball career, but it was very, very hard to even get into the doctors.

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