Page 16 of A Play For The Heart
Heading back out into the hallway, I put the phone up to my ear and begrudgingly return the four missed calls from my father.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Henry,” he responds, voice cold.What a warm greeting for your only son.
I attempt to make this call short and sweet. “What’s up, why did you call?” The sooner he tells me why he called, the sooner I can hang up. I’m ripping off the band-aid.
“We need to talk about what happened in the game last night. How could you drop a wide-open pass? I trained you better than that.”
My stomach drops at his analysis of how I played. If my father is good at one thing, it’s knowing how to hit me right where it hurts.
“It was one dropped pass, Dad. It happens.”
Apparently, that response wasn’t sufficient for Matthew Parker, former pro-bowl MVP and Super Bowl champion. If anything, it only made him angrier. Heaven forbid I make a mistake.
“We’ve talked about this. How important your rookie season is. It defines your career,” He really emphasizes the word ‘defines’, driving the point home. “You can’t afford any screw-ups.”
With those lovely words about what he thinks about me, he hangs up.
Walking back into the locker room after the tense phone call with my father, I spot Jack getting ready to leave. The last thing I want to do is go home and stew in the anxiety coursing through my body after that conversation. There’s a gray cloud dampening my mood and being alone will only make it worse.
“Any plans tonight?” I ask, sitting down next to Jack. It’s a Saturday with no practice or game tomorrow, so I’m hoping if he has plans, they’re of the drinking variety.
As usual, Jack responds with the last thing I was expecting. “I was planning to go home and watch the new David Attenborough documentary. What’s up?”
Who?
“Just wanted to see if you wanted to grab a few beers at Longboards?”
Jack shoots me a look I can’t quite decipher. “Sure, why not, I can get my Attenborough on later,” I shake my head, laughing as we both head towards the exit.
Three hours later, I walk through the front door of Longboards, heading towards the bar. This bar is one of my favorite spots in Seattle. It’s a bit run down but still has a charm to it. The walls are covered with nautical-themed décor and flatscreen TVs playing different sports games. The wooden bar spans the entirety of the back wall and the lacquer on the wood is beginning to peel from age. My favorite part is the crowd. There’s not a soul in here that pays me or my friends any mind. Most of the patrons are over the age of 60 and couldn’t care less about football, let alone name a team. It lowers my anxiety about being recognized when I know that not a single person in the bar cares about what I do for a living. I enjoy the fans, but sometimes I don’t want to be noticed. In this bar, I’m just Henry. Not Henry Parker, the wide receiver for the Seattle Mavericks. The thought of it is freeing, especially after the phone call with my dad.
I sit down on a barstool and flag down the bartender. Ordering a Miller Lite, I kill time watching HGTV on one of the TVs while I wait for Jack to arrive. Ioohandahhat the house flip reveals, entertaining myself while I wait. Five minutes later, Jack saunters into the bar, wearing jeans and a fitted, olive-green t-shirt, looking like he came straight from the set of “Sons of Anarchy.” As soon as that thought crosses my mind, he shoots me a goofy, crooked smile, banishing any thought that he may look intimidating.
“Hey,” Jack says as sits down next to me and flags the bartender to order a drink. He turns back to me after getting the bartender's attention and cuts straight to the chase. “So why did you ask me to get drinks with you on a Saturday night when you could be doing literally anything else? Not that I’m not happy about the invitation, I am. But I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here.”
I sigh, not surprised in the slightest that he saw right through me. Usually, I would talk to Sawyer when something was bothering me. However, considering that the thing that’s bothering me is my feelings for Sawyer, I’m at a crossroads.
“Was I really that transparent earlier?” I ask, taking a long gulp of my beer.
“Yes, now spill,” Jack quirks an eyebrow, his eyes glittering with amusement.
In a rush, before I lose my momentum and nerve, I blurt out what's on my mind. “I’m in love with Sawyer but she’s dating Declan and I thought the feelings would fade but they only got worse. Now she lives in Seattle, and I have no idea how to act because all my feelings just bubble right up to the surface every time I’m around her and it’s exhausting. And to make matters worse, last week we went on a whale-watching tour and before she got out of the car, I looked down at her lips and she definitely noticed.” I take a deep breath after getting it all off my chest.
Wow. That was freeing.
Jack looks back at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “Okay...Uh. Yeah.” He says scrubbing the back of his neck. “That’s uh… a lot of information to process, so maybe start at the very beginning. Some background information may help me here. How did you and Sawyer meet? I’m assuming in college?”
“Yeah, a gen-ed history class at the beginning of our sophomore year. We were partnered up for this project about the fall of ancient empires and hit it off. We would talk about everything and nothing while we worked. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life while working on something so boring.” I smile, thinking about all the hours spent in the library with Sawyer, laughing until we were both in tears.
Now that I’ve opened the emotional floodgates, the words begin to pour out of me. Jack better strap in. He’s about to ride the emotional rollercoaster that is my life. “At first, it was just nice to talk to someone outside of football. We would just hang out and have fun and I wouldn’t have to think about the stress that football would bring. About halfway through the season, one of the other wide receivers on the team took a nasty hit and tore his ACL.” Jack grimaces, imagining the injury. “After that, I was promoted to the starting lineup. I was so nervous and afraid that the night before the first game I was supposed to start, I had a panic attack and couldn’t breathe.”
I’ve never spoken to anyone besides Sawyer about my anxiety and the panic attacks that sometimes happen, but Jack doesn’t seem like the type to judge me about it or comment, so I soldier on.
“The anxiety was suffocating, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me. I had never had a panic attack before, so I did the only thing I could manage, which was to call Sawyer. She showed up at my apartment and helped me work through it. After I calmed down, Sawyer grabbed a permanent marker and drew a smiley face on my hand. She told me that if I felt anxious during the game to just look down and remind myself that she’s with me and to have fun. At the moment, I thought it was a bit silly.How is a smiley face going to help?I remember asking her. She just shrugged her shoulders and said,It may not, but it definitely won’t hurt.
“The next day, as I stepped out onto the field, I started to feel the panic rise in my body. I peeled back my gloves to look at the smiley face she drew. When I glanced at it, it felt like there was a weight lifted off my shoulders. I remember thinking to myselfI honestly cannot believe the smiley face worked.After that, it kinda became our tradition. She would draw a smiley face on my hand, and it would help keep the anxiety at bay. It may seem dumb, but it was our thing and without it, I’m not sure I would have made it through the season.”
