Page 10 of The Quarterback
Surprise lit up the doc’s face, and he looked from Nick to Colton and back again.
Colton felt the distance opening between him and Nick like a canyon, the loss of Nick’s touch like the loss of the sun.He’s not your dad. You don’t have a dad. His molars ground against each other, and he kept his gaze locked on the doctor. “Doc, when will I play again?”
“I need to be up front with you about your injury, Colton,” the doc said carefully. “Your shoulder is in very, very bad shape. You had a serious tear to your labrum and multiple torn ligaments, as well as two breaks to your collarbone. Your shoulder was fully torn away from your chest. Only your muscles held the joint in place, and some of those tore as well. It’s going to take a long time for you to heal.”
It was about to be the off season. He had time. Not a lot, but he had time. He could work on conditioning while he was down, then power through reps and arm strengthening when he got back to the practice field. It was going to be okay. He gripped the blanket next to his thigh, out of view from the doctor. “But it will heal. I’ll be fine. How long until I’m back out there? Six weeks? Eight?”
The doc hesitated. “We’re going to reevaluate your shoulder in eight weeks. You’ll be strapped in this sling for at least the next two weeks, and then you’ll begin a very light physical therapy regimen. Stretching, mostly. You’ll be in a sling for a month at a minimum.”
“But after—”
“After that, if it looks like you’re on a stable path, you can move to moderate physical therapy for another two months. And we’ll reevaluate your progress again after that.”
Four months. That took him all the way to preseason. But he could do it, he could still come back. He knew how to work hard. “And then?”
“In six months, youmightbe back on the field in light practiceifyou don’t push too hard. Colton, this isn’t something you can get over by gritting your teeth through the pain. This is a very serious injury, and if you don’t take the time to recover therightway, you risk never being able to play again.”
Colton stared at the doc. His lips pressed hard together, trying to stop the trembling of his chin.Never play again.
Nick took over, asking the questions Colton should be asking. He asked about Colton’s physical therapy and when he would begin, how often he would go, what kinds of things he could do on his own once he started. The doc kept stressing, over and over, that for the first two weeks, Colton was required to stay immobile, keep his arm strapped down in his sling, andnot move. Don’t push himself. Let his body recover.
“Do you remember when Jason Witten ruptured his spleen playing for the Cowboys? He was put on bed rest for two weeks to heal. He was flat on his back, in bed. Doing nothing.” The doc sliced one hand through the air, as if he could underline his words. “It’s the same for you. You need to donothing. The best thing you can do for yourself, Colton, is rest. For the first week, I want you in bed. You’re not allowed on the practice field.”
“But—”
“No. I don’t want you doing anything that could aggravate your recovery. No jogging, no roughhousing, no playing around. I want you in your room. Bed rest is best.”
“But what’s the timetable…” His voice trailed off as the doc shook his head.
“I’m not comfortable setting artificial goals until we have a better idea of how you’re healing. We can’t know now how you’re going to recover, and what that will look like when orifyou do. The timetable is wait and see. Rest. Recover. Take this week by week. Trust me: for the next few days, you’re not going to want to do anything anyway. You’re going to feel awful. I’m sorry.”
Colton looked away as the first of his burning tears fell. Frustration boiled inside him until he was shaking, trembling like he was going to fall apart. He tried to swallow and couldn’t. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face against his left shoulder, trying to wipe away his body’s betrayal. Damn it, damn it. Fuck, whythis, whynow?
And he already felt awful. He felt gutted, like something integral had been ripped out of him. How could he possibly feel any worse than he did now?
Nick talked to the doctor for him again, more questions that blurred in Colton’s mind. How to take care of his shoulder and the incisions, how to shower, how to sleep. When he was getting out of the hospital and going home. What kind of medications he’d be on and for how long.
Ten minutes later, it was over. The doc breezed out, telling Colton he’d see him in one week and that he was cautiously hopeful Colton would make a full recovery… as long as herestedandfollowed directions.
When the door shut, Colton’s eyes popped open. He stared at Nick, the world watery and prismatic on the edges. Nick didn’t try to sugarcoat anything, and he didn’t bother with platitudes. He gave Colton a small, sad smile and reached for his hand again, squeezing.
Colton grabbed Nick’s hand and curled sideways, slumping over as his heart, with all his fears inside it, fractured.
Chapter Five
Nick broughtColton to the jock house when the hospital released him. The drive and the short walk up the stairs and into his bedroom exhausted Colton, every pothole and footfall making him grimace and cringe. Nick swiped pillows from Justin and Wes’s bedroom and from the couch downstairs, and he made a nest for Colton to lean against and prop his arm on.
By the time he was done, Colton was only able to dry swallow one of his pain pills before he passed out.
Nick waited in Colton’s bedroom until Wes and Justin came home. He filled them in privately, giving them the rundown of the doctor’s warnings and his slow, open-ended timetable for recovery. Wes looked devastated when Nick was finished, like he’d been given the news that he might never play again himself.
Nick helped Justin and Art and Josh cook dinner for the entire house, chopping so many vegetables he felt as if he were working in a restaurant. They all crowded in Colton’s room to eat, perching on the old couch and the edges of his bed, his desk chair, his ergonomically modified beanbag chair, and the floor. Colton picked at his food, smiled wanly at his friends, and listened to the stories of practice and finals as his eyelids drooped. The guys filed out when Colton started snoring.
Wes and Justin moved into Colton’s bedroom for that first night, Wes sleeping on the floor next to Colton while Justin took the couch. Nick ended up staying longer than he probably should have, the three of them filling up Colton’s bedroom with soft conversation as the quarterback lay motionless and pale and small-looking in the center of his big bed.
Nick admired the boys and how genuine they were, the simple ways they showed their care for each other. When Wes was attacked, Colton had stayed at his side in the hospital for days, from the moment visiting hours began until he was kicked out. The nurse had told Nick she would come in the mornings and find Colton pacing in the waiting room until he could be let up. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and Wes and Justin were just as devoted to Colton as he’d been to them.
It left Nick feeling like an outsider. Hewas, of course, in their little foursome. He was the dad, the old guy, the odd one out. Maybe he didn’t look like such an old guy anymore, thanks to Justin’s unasked-for overhaul of his wardrobe, but he certainly felt it some days. Twenty-one years separated him from the boys, along with half a lifetime of experience. When he was their age, Cynthia was already pregnant with Justin, and they’d run off to get married without telling anyone, heading to Louisiana to elope on a riverboat casino.
