Page 31 of False Start
“He’s a football player.”
“And against all odds, he captured your heart anyway.”
“I can’t go through what you did with Dad and two kids.”
“The moment you decide to love someone, you take the risk of losing them one day. That’s the price of love. For all the pain I’ve felt over your father’s death, I wouldn’t change one second of the time we spent together.” Mom smirks and pats me on the arm. “If you can’t sleep, come wake me.” She leaves my door and heads for her own bed.
A text sounds from my phone somewhere under the covers. I have to tear the bed apart to find it.
Mom: Watch this video and make sure you read the lyrics.
The video is a song I know well,The Dance.
I click the link and the video loads, and it’s the last thing I remember.
“ZHANNA, WAKE UP, SWEETHEART.”
I turn over, cover my head, and snuggle in deeper into my bed.
“Zhanna.” My eyes pop open, and my vision fills with my mom’s worried face. “There’s been some news on Grandma.”
“Is she okay?” I ask.
Her eyes gleam with unshed tears as she shakes her head. “No. Grandma passed away about thirty minutes ago.”
“I thought the ventilator was supposed to help her.”
“I don’t know what happened, but she was older and very sick. We can find solace in the fact that she’s no longer suffering.” Mom pulls me into a comforting hug before we wake Zina together and share the same news. After a great big group cry, we slide into my mom’s bed and sleep close together until nine.
I rise and find Bryant and Ben in the kitchen cooking breakfast and making coffee.
“Morning,” I greet. “We didn’t want to wake you a little earlier, but Rose passed away at about four this morning.”
Bryant vacates a bar stool, takes two long strides, and I’m wrapped around him.God. Why does he have to smell so good? “What do you need, Coach?”
“I don’t know. I guess Mom will know about arrangements.”
I sit with them as they cook breakfast, but I’m in a daze. It’s weird how someone can die and the world just keeps moving. It doesn’t pause for anyone. After Zina and Mom wake, we eat in silence after we thank the guys for their hard work. No one quite knows what to say. What topics are appropriate for the recently bereaved?
We clear the table and clean the kitchen for the next little while, also in silence. I’m relieved when Ben and Bryant are forced to leave for football practice. The pressure to entertain is too much, too soon. I spend the day with Zina and Mom taking care of arrangements (Grandma was thankfully prepared), sifting through old photographs of Grandma Rose, and trying to imagine what Grandpa Phillip and our father said when Grandma made it to the other side.
I also think of Bryant. I find myself wondering what he’s doing. Is he thinking of me as well? Or have I completely ruined any real chance with him?
I click on my main social media app and look through my sister’s and mom’s feeds to read the sympathetic messages others have left for Rose. And then I curiously look up Bryant, who I’ve not added as a friend on my account yet.
He last posted a picture of a rose and captioned it, “Rose, thank you for letting me be your Phillip. I’m so happy you’re with your true love now. Rest in peace, sweet lady.”
He took the time to search for a picture and tell the world about my grandmother. He held her hand while she was dying and gave her the comfort she needed. He drove all the way here after a game to be at the hospital with me after I told him to fuck off. He left the stadium under orders not to do so from his coach. And he went out of his way to set up a shadowing experience with the team’s physical therapist. The man has shown me time and again he’s not only a good guy, but he’s also shown me how much he cares for me. And I’m a grade A idiot.
I send him a text to see how his day is going.
Zhanna: Hey you. I hope you guys were able to get some sleep this morning. I know it wasn’t much. I didn’t thank you for driving here, so thank you.
I tuck my phone away and return to his social media account. All through his page, there are video highlights, pictures, and news articles about him as a player. I notice there’s nothing personal on his page except the sweet comments his parents leave. They couldn’t be prouder of him, and it shows even through the internet. But it’s sad that no one in the media really takes the time to get to know athletes beyond their talent as a player.
I don’t hear from Bryant for the rest of the day. And as time goes by, I begin to worry about him and us. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore. I’m probably just more emotional than usual because of Grandma Rose. But he did say he was giving me space, something that would’ve made me happy a few weeks ago. Now, I dare to say I miss him. I miss his presence, smile, eyes, and kind heart, and we’ve only been apart for mere hours.
God. What is happening to me?
