Page 54 of Actions and Reactions
Thinking about how similarly painful both situations were is like torture. I keep reliving the shame, the pain, the anger, and it only makes me feel smaller and smaller. But I can’t escape it while I’m still in the hospital.
So of course I’m practically cheering and clapping when Dad wheels me out to the parking lot, and for the first time in days I get a smile from him.
Okay, it’s tiny, like really barely there, but it’s a smile, and I’ll take it as a win.
It’s only forty minutes later when we’re in the jet Dad chartered to take us to Chicago that it occurs to me to ask, and I’m once more ashamed about my lack of decency.
“Dad, the season starts in three weeks. You can’t be away from the show for three months.”
He turns to look at me distractedly, but when his blue eyes land on me they seem to come into focus.
“Oh,” he says like he’s surprised. “I guess I didn’t tell you, but Hulk and I were in talks about our next contractswhen I lost my shit on Nilsson, and though Hulk’s been trying to get a deal done, I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get canceled.”
“What?” I spit out, instantly enraged on their behalf. “They can’t do that.”
“Actually, they can, son.” His soft smile doesn’t have any effect on me. “And since I couldn’t care less about the season right now, I don’t think it’ll be the worst thing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t care about the season,” I state, the skepticism clear as bells in my voice.
“Of course I don’t.” He scoffs and shifts in his seat, then looks away and groans. “Okay, I care, but not enough to matter. I care about you and making sure you get better way more than I care about anything else.”
It takes me a long moment to be able to speak after that.
I can see he means it, and I’m filled with shame at the thought that in his place I might not feel the same way.
How fucked up is that?
When I can, I swallow hard, push that thought away to think about it some other time, and then cross my legs to shift the weight away from my right hip.
“What about Uncle Hulk? Doesn’t he want to keep the show going?”
Dad’s sigh is long and deep.
“I think he cares about it slightly more than I do, but he wasn’t happy with the direction the network’s gone in the last five years either, choosing to focus more on gossip than the actual game.” Another sigh, then he finally looks at me again. “We understand some information is important tofans, and that it can affect the way the season progresses, but there was so much bullshit they wanted us to talk about. That’s the main thing we were negotiating in our new contracts.”
I think about it for a long time, and since we’re still not moving, and it’ll probably take a few more minutes, I finally check the messages from Uncle Hulk and Aunt Lyla.
Lex’s were simple enough, just a wish for me to get better, and then he said he was here for me whenever I needed him.
Uncle Hulk:
You always gotta check what the wall is made of before you punch it, Si.
I burst out laughing, picturing him shaking his head disapprovingly but wearing that sly smile. If I remember correctly, he punched the boards more than a few times out of sheer frustration while he was in the league.
This was different of course, but I appreciate the levity more than he’ll ever know... No. I’ll tell him how much I appreciate it when I get the chance.
The next texts came in hours later than the first.
Uncle Hulk:
Just talked to your Dad, and I gotta tell you, it’s always been easier to love others before loving ourselves, but we can’t really love others if we don’t, son.
You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. And I’m very glad you’re going to this Star Wars camp.
Another laugh escapes me at that. I’m glad someone thinks the way I do.
Then come the texts from Aunt Lyla, which came in the morning after the wall punching.
