Page 73 of A Play For The Heart
The tears welling in her eyes fall, trailing down her cheeks. “I need to know why.”
“I have nothing now,” I whisper, the reality almost too painful to share with her. “Football was the one thing I was good at, and I can’t play. The doctors say I should be able to play again, but what if that doesn’t happen? What if I re-injure myself? I don’t know what to do now, and that’s the last thing you deserve. To be with someone who has nothing to offer, because you deserve the world and I’m not sure I have anything to offer if I don’t have football.”
I lay my truth bare. All my wounds and self-doubt lay open for her. The reality is that I may not be able to give her everything she deserves. Everything my dad has said has been true. Looking at my life outside of football, I have nothing. No plan to fall back on. No friends outside of the team. I am utterly empty without football.
She looks like she’s been slapped, shock and anger morphing on her features. Then, the anger fades and a heavy realization sets into her features.
“You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. I decide that. I could give two fucks that you play football. It has nothing to do with why I love you.”
Did she…did she just say she loves me?
“Wipe that idiotic look off your face. Of course, I love you, but until you learn to love yourself, Henry, this won’t work.Wewon’t work,” she says, gesturing between us, more tears falling from her beautiful green eyes. I want to wrap her up in my arms and wipe the tears away. To comfort her because I know she’s in pain. The urge is overwhelming. But I stay rooted to my hospital bed. I’m the reason for her heartbreak and tears, and no matter what I say, I can’t change that fact.
“I need you to figure out who you are and what you want because if you don’t, I will spend the rest of however long this thing between us manages to last, wondering and worrying if you truly lovemeor if you only love how you hate yourself less when I’m around. And that’s unfair to me. Figure out what you want and whoyouwant to be, not whoever you think you're supposed to be. And if you still want to end this, end us, then so be it. If you reflect and realize you don’t feel the same as I do, that we really are better off as friends, it will hurt, but I’ll understand. Because I would give up every ounce of my own happiness if it meant you could have all of yours.”
After saying her piece, she grabs her purse from the floor, stands up, and disappears. She leaves no room for discussion as she walks out the door and I stop fighting my tears, allowing them to fall freely as I sit in my hospital bed. In twenty-four hours, I’ve lost everything that was important to me. Sawyer. Football. I feel alone like I’m floating in the ocean, searching for the shore in the dark, with no beacon of light to guide me.
The realization of how little I have left pulls a sob from my chest. Turning onto my side as gently as I can with my ankle, I curl into the pillow, falling asleep with tears streaming down my cheeks.
I wake up sometime later, the room shrouded in shadows from the setting sun. Leaning up against the hospital bed, my mother sits in the same seat Sawyer occupied only hours earlier. The thought of Sawyer pulls a choking breath from my chest, alerting my mom I’m awake. She looks up from the book she was reading and takes in my expression.
I see the concern rush to her face. The sympathy strikes a chord and she scoots the chair towards the side of the bed taking my hand in between hers, while I grieve for everything I’ve lost. Given up.
“Henry, look at me.” Our eyes connect, mine the mirror image of hers. Her bright blue eyes look sad and tired. “Sweetheart, I owe you an apology.” I shake my head, unsure of what she has to apologize for. “I heard what your father said to you yesterday. It was cruel and unacceptable and so, so far from the truth.”
She scoots her chair closer to my bedside and strokes my hand. Drawing in breaths is arduous and words seem impossible. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief.
“You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. To your father, too. I have spent every single day proud that you're my son. You have been the light of my life, and I am so deeply sorry that you have ever doubted how honored I am to be your mom. How proud your father is. I am not justifying his actions or words, because he was wrong. He got caught up in what he thought was the best for you and lost sight of what is really important.”
Her brows bend together, then she looks around the room at the wires and machines. “Is Sawyer at work?”
Fuck.
My lip trembles as the image of her in tears jumps to the front of my mind.
“Tell me what’s wrong, honey,” she sees right through me, she always has.
The sincerity in her voice breaks me, and I let it all out. Every thought I have about myself. What happened with Sawyer. Everything with Dad and the pressure I feel to succeed. She sits through the entire thing, silent, except for the occasional hum to show she was listening. By the time I finish, I feel drained. Every emotion I’ve bottled up rushed out of me all at once, leaving me feeling empty.
“Your worth has nothing to do with football and everything to do with who you are.”
“Mom,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I have never seen you happier than when you’re with Sawyer. It seems like she turns your world into technicolor. She is a beautiful person and she brings out the best in you.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. I’ve seen and cried more tears in the last forty-eight hours than I have ever in my life. “So, listen to her. Find out what you want, but I hope you see how wonderful you are and how happy she has made you.”
I say nothing. There is nothing I can say. We sit in silence together for about a half hour when a nurse comes in to check my vitals. After the nurse leaves, my mom gathers up her book and purse. She leans down, placing a kiss on my forehead, then moves towards the door.
“Find yourself, Henry. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Not long after she leaves, I fall back asleep. The emotions from the day leave me drained and lost.
CHAPTER 31
“I used to float, but now I just fall down. I used to know, but I’m not sure now”
What Was I Made For—Billie Eilish
