Page 79 of Red Zone Realizations
“You two are now physically and emotionally in sync, and it’s time for you to allow Audrey to fly.” I glance at Noah skeptically and he looks back at me with a glimmer of something in his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s humor or determination. Lotus is unbothered as she continues. “Noah, lift your knees. Audrey, step up to meet him. Yes, like that. Audrey, take his feet and settle them on your hips. Make sure they’re on the bones, and not the stomach. They’re going to support you in this soaring position.”
My eyes bulge. “In the what now?” I’m not sure I’m strongenough to not just flop around like a ragdoll over his feet. This could all come crashing down on Noah, literally.
“Okay, grasp his hands and start to lean forward slowly.” I start to tip my upper body, putting my weight against Noah’s legs.
He’s sound under me, and when I look at him, he mouths “I’ve got you.”
In mere seconds my feet are floating off the ground, and Noah has my full weight. My eyes are wide as I get used to the feeling of flying. I quickly remember myself and pull my shoulders back, lifting myself with my back muscles. Lotus chimes in, “Keep lifting, keep lifting!”
A smile splits across my face. “Holy shit.”
This is straight up the yoga version of that scene inDirty Dancing. I look down at Noah and I can see a mix of pride and desire on his face. He smiles at me, and I truly feel like nothing can stop us now.
Chapter Forty-Five
NOAH
Seeing Audrey beaming at me from above was an out-of-body experience. I knew I had the physical strength to hold her up in the flying dove partner pose, and I know I have the emotional strength to hold her up in life. What I’m not sure of is if I have the strength to hold in the “I love you” that’s been trying to burst out of my mouth.
It hit me like a truck when Audrey was flying over me. Something about the symbolism of our position on the mat in relation to our position in life knocked the thought into my brain, and now I can’t unthink it.
I don’t know how long I’ll make it without blurting it out. Knowing me, it will be at the worst possible time.
The next day, as I’m still thinking about what we did, I shove another crumpled piece of paper in the trash bag in my hand. Because today we’re cleaning out our lockers. Even though I plan to be back next season, we do this every year. I suspectit’s to allow the custodians to get them clean. Six months of heavy, sweaty use has made them pretty gnarly. Other guys are around me doing the same thing. Sorting their stuff into different bags to keep or toss. Even though we went further than we have since before my time here, there’s still a bit of sadness lingering in the air. We weren’t ready to be done. You never really are. And now next year, no matter how far we make it in the playoffs, it won’t be the same. Teams change every year. There are never two seasons where every single man on the roster is identical to the last year. The turnover rate is too high. Trades and injuries make it an ever-swinging door.
I might be packing my stuff up, but mentally I’m choosing a locker for next year. I think Colin and I are going to try and get one next to each other. I’m friendly with the equipment manager, so I might be able to swing it.
“Noah! Coach’s ready for you!” Jalenski yells.
“I’m coming.” I shoulder the bag I brought to get my stuff home. The guys around me bump knuckles or slap hands as I move toward the door. One even salutes me. “Give ’em hell.”
I plan to. I had a breakout season for someone coming back from injury. Especially with dealing with a new relationship and everything that came with that. I never lost focus, no matter what was going on in my home life, and the stats show it.
I sit in the chair across from Coach’s huge walnut credenza. I fold my hands in my lap and wait for whatever barter he has for me. I’ve never renewed a contract before, so I don’t know if we negotiate now, or if we video Arie in. There is a slight shadow of doubt in the back of my mind. My stats were great, and we made it to the wildcard game, but I did get into a scuffle this year, which I never have before. When reporters asked me questions, I didn’t necessarily stick to the teamscript. After the last game, I also made impromptu comments meant for Audrey.
“Fox,” he starts. “You’ve had a great season, but not without any blights. Fighting on the field, for example, but your numbers speak for themselves. In fact, they more than speak for themselves. You’re about to get a big new contract.” He pauses. “I just don’t know if it’s from the Hurricanes.”
My stomach drops to my ass.
He continues on, “You’re worth a lot. Much more than when we signed you as a rookie. But there’s a salary cap to compete with, and other guys who need to get paid too.” Coach never pulls any punches; he just tells you what’s up. “You should go out to the market and see what you can get. You owe it to the other tight ends to up the cost of a player of your caliber.”
“Okay, Coach.”
I should be elated. We’re talking about millions more dollars guaranteed. I’m at the peak of my value, and Coach is right to tell me I should go see what I can get. Being an NFL player isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s not all discount double-checks and tossing the Super Bowl trophy to someone from your private yacht. The time on the road is brutal, and at the end of the season, you’re at the mercy of the market and the front office. That doesn’t even include the wear and tear on your body. They can offer to see if anyone is willing to pay, but if no one is, I’ll be a free agent.
“Chicago has made their interest in you clear. I would suggest going to meet with them. If anyone else comes out of the woodwork, your agent will let you know.”
I rise and thank him, moving in a daze from his office.
Walking down the hallway knowing I’m leaving makes everything look brand new. I’m seeing the framed photos onthe walls with fresh eyes. I’ve taken my time at the Hurricanes for granted, thinking there’s no way they would let me leave. I never realized how special it was to play in my hometown. Most are not that lucky. Wyatt had his whole world taken away from him when he got traded to Houston.
Chicago hasn’t been good since its glory days in the eighties, but they’re primed to get a new hotshot quarterback in the draft in April. I think he’ll breathe life into the team with his painted nails and TikTok dances. Hopefully, he can stand up to the pressure of being more than an NFL athlete and become the franchise quarterback Chicago needs.
I wander, lost in my thoughts, all the way to my car. When I turn the key in the ignition, it hits me that I’m leaving Houston.
I drive aimlessly until I realize that I’m actually headed to Colin’s house. If there’s anyone who would have sage advice, it’s him.
I know he’s home; he was already leaving when I got called to the office. I park in his driveway and let myself in through his back gate. His back door is unlocked and Colin’s in the kitchen, standing shirtless in front of the fridge. Likely looking for a pre-dinner snack or adult beverage depending on how his day went. The end of the season is tough. I know Colin feels like that loss is on his back. If you had a Super Bowl ring on your finger, you’d probably be looking forward to whatever tropical vacation you have planned for the off-season. Not only did we not win anything, but I didn’t do good enough to keep my roster spot. Or did I do so well, I sold myself out of it? Who knows.
