Page 17 of I Got You

“What am I supposed to do?” His voice raises in irritation, and I know it’s not directed at me. “I made a promise, and they are more important. My dad taught me that just as much as he taught me how to throw a perfect spiral.”

“I’m just saying, don’t make a rash decision. Responding to panic won’t get you anywhere. Maybe talk with Maggie and see what other options there are.”

“There aren’t any. She’s met with lawyers, and the longer I sit here…we’re running out of time.”

This kid and I come from two worlds that couldn’t be further apart, but the fear I hear in his voice and the worry for these kids raises the hair on the back of my neck.

As a kid, I lived every day in fear, and Cole’s is not for himself but for four kids who don’t have a say in any of this. The place in my chest where a heart once was aches for them, and my conscience comes calling. I want to tell it to shut the hell up.

Those damn words that I want to mean nothing skirt through my mind, and I try to chase them away.

I fist my hands and release them, needing to go back to not empathizing or feeling…things.

“Just give it some time,” I say, knowing time isn’t likely to help.

He nods gently, straightening and gathering himself back up. It’s as if I can see him put a shield around himself.

“Sorry, about unloading. These are my issues. They’ll stay out of the locker room from now on.”

I haven’t been around this kid for long, but it’s clear he strives for perfection. I don’t know much, but I know we aren’t perfect.

“Give yourself a break. We can’t be on every moment. You’re facing a lot. Just take it one day at a time.” Where the hell did that come from?

I stand, my skin feeling tight and itchy. Too much about this brings about thoughts and memories I never want to revisit.

“Hang in there,” I say, needing an escape.

“Sure.” He stands gathering his things. I turn, but his voice stops me. “Hey, coach. Thanks.” I see the sincerity in his eyes, and it only makes me run for the doors.

∞∞∞

I sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers unfolding the creased-lined notebook paper. It’s been days since my time with Maggie at the hospital, and I’d safely pushed away the gnawing feeling threatening to disrupt my carefully constructed, quiet simple state. Cole’s untimely emotional locker room dump kicked that little tapeworm back into action, and it’s eating away at my well-guarded conscience.

So here I sit, unable to ignore the beckoning of these words any longer. The last time I held this letter was the day I was drafted into the NFL. It’s the solitary thing that I have from my mother. The day she left me standing with the envelope in my hand was the last day I ever saw her. The distinct smell of her flowery perfume still lingers around me as her thin arms held me tight for one last hug. I can still feel the press of her warm lips against my cheek and see the glistening of tears in her brown eyes as she walked away.

I’ve wondered my whole life if there would ever come a time when the words in this letter would find me. Would there be a day when I could believe any part of what she left me with?

I want to hear every single word and know that she meant them, but I’ve spent my life trying to ignore these words because it’s easier than accepting they can’t possibly be true.

It was that day, sitting in my truck with Maggie when the memory of these words I’ve never been sure I’ll understand gripped me, and they haven’t let go.

Maybe one day, there will come a time when you are faced with a circumstance or an opportunity, and you will know that sacrifice is the only right thing. Doing something for the sake of another because there isn’t another choice.

I’ve spent my life alone. Unwanted and tossed into the system that raised me. I learned at an early age to take care of myself and let go of the dream of ever having a home surrounded by people who love me.

When I started playing football, my team became a distant family, but letting anyone in meant they could and would walk away. So I kept my head down, stayed focused, and worked hard playing the game that saved me from myself.

I’ve never wanted to get married. Anyone who knows my past only looks at me with pity and a rescue plan. That pity churns my stomach, and I don’t need to be saved. I’ve only ever wanted someone to see me as I am, what I’ve never had, and not try to fix any of it. Even if I met someone, I’m not sure I’d allow myself to believe it could actually last, that they wouldn’t wake up one day and decide I wasn’t worth it, or that there was someone better in the world for them than me.

The closest I’ve ever come to a relationship like that is with my two foster brothers, whom I’ve known since I was twelve. We’re the same. We come from the same world. They’ve seen the good and the bad, kicked my ass when I needed it, and have stood by me no matter the stakes.

But now, these words swarm around me, attacking my thoughts and making me question their legitimacy once again. A relatable pain roared deep in my soul when Maggie and Cole told me about the kids and their mom leaving them for a different life. Then again, when I saw the overwhelming fear in Cole’s eyes. It was at that moment that my mother’s words resurfaced. They’ve taken flight, and I can’t get them to settle back down.

I carefully fold the letter and place it back in my dresser. I yank my keys from my pocket, needing this team party to give me a reprieve from thoughts of Maggie, the kids, and a life decision that I’m not sure I’m willing to make.

∞∞∞

“Come on, coach. You’ve got to tell us what it was like playing for the Breeze. Standing in the middle of the stadium, hearing all those fans.”

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