Page 51 of Calm Before the Score

No one except Violet will know the real me or the true reason behind my ugly secrets. I’ve had hundreds of sleazy reporters reach out for comments, and I haven’t responded to any of them. I haven’t even talked to my mom. I sent her a few texts letting her know I’m fine, but I know it’s not enough. I know she’ll never turn her back on me, but the disappointment is too much to handle at the moment. I did it all for her, but she never wanted that for me. She had dreams of me escaping our town and playing in the league. It gave her something to look forward to, to live for, and I managed to screw that up because I couldn’t look past fixing her present state.

How could I have looked ahead to my future in the NFL when my mom’s health was deteriorating before my eyes?

I knew what I was wagering when I called Logan, and I did it anyway. I know I need to face my mom. It won’t be long before she grows impatient and shows up at my doorstep. I force myself to shower and change clothes for the first time in days. My apartment is abysmal, and my facial hair Depression hit me hard. I make the short drive to Mom’s house and hesitate before knocking on the door. Taking a deep breath, I gently knock. Quicker than expected, the door flies open, and I’m suddenly ten years old again, wrapped in my mom’s arms. The look on her aging face destroys me. I never needed her to worry about me. It should be the other way around.

“Oh, Ryan,” she whispers to me. I try my best to hold back the emotions that have been bubbling to the surface. I won’t let Mom see me distraught. She leads us through the house into the main room, taking her favorite spot on the recliner.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to get out.

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m here, and I’m never going anywhere. I just want to know why,” she asks. Her loving eyes search mine as she grabs my hand in hers. I guess I’ve put her through so many weeks of emotional torture that she’s over the initial shock of it all.

“I had to.”

“No one ever has to do anything. We all make choices in our lives, and you made this one. Now I want the straight answer of why you did it.” Mom has a way of getting things out of me, and she’s relentless when she’s on a mission for answers.

“Your bills. The money didn’t come from a savings account. They came from the bets,” I confess with shame dripping from each word that rolls off my tongue.

“The last few weeks of you ignoring me gave me time to figure it out." She crosses her arms in front of herself.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You can start by telling me why you sacrificed your future for my present,” she asserts with a scary level of certainty.

“I need you more than I need football.”

“Ryan, I know my condition has been tearing you apart since high school, but I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want you changing the course of your life for mine. ALS doesn’t get better. You know this.”

“Don’t say that!” I point and yell defensively.

“You need to hear it, son. I’m going to be gone, and you need something to live for besides me.” She walks next to me and wraps her frail arms around my shoulder. I’m shaking, and the walls I’ve built around emotions have officially tumbled down.

“The only thing I have is you. Without you, I’m nothing,” I manage to let out. I'm trying to hold it together the best I can.

“You have made that your story for so long, baby. It’s time to let it go. If this is what it took, I’m glad it happened,” she confesses. “Now go fight for your dream life without me in the way.”

“Football is over, Mom. I don’t know if you’ve been living under a rock, but my name isn’t the most popular at the moment.” I lift my head from my hands to look at the strongest woman I know. I need her strength right now.

“I wasn’t talking about football,” she says.

“Football was my dream, and I ruined it. It’s over, and so is Springs U.”

“Football might be over, but your life isn’t. Don’t act coy, son. That ball of sunshine is something worth fighting for.”

“That’s over.” I know mom loved Violet, but I can’t lie and act like things are ok between us. She’s done with me.

“Nothing’s ever over, now is it?” she smirks.

“I didn’t handle it in the best way, and I broke every bit of trust she had in me,” I explain with embarrassment to the womanwho raised me to have integrity, and I’m going along my life with the exact opposite.

“Then fight. You’ve never had a problem with fighting for what you want.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?” I look down at my hands folded between my legs.

“Every girl wants to be fought for. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be a quick fix. Don’t give up on her. I saw the way you two look at each other. Don’t throw it all away,” she yawns, and that’s my cue that I’ve over-exerted her for the day.

“You look tired. Go for a nap, and I’ll head out.”

“Promise me that you’ll fight for a life that’ll make you happy when I’m gone.” Tears flush her eyes.

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