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I want to live life for him. So, no matter how much I might have to push myself, I’m going to figure it out. Even if it’s baby steps, I’m doing it for him. Gem’s right. It’s what Josh would want, too.
So I’ll go to this benefit. I’ll appease my parents and let them carry on the facade of their fancy little life, but I’m doing it my way. I’ll play, sing, and entertain, and when I’m done, I’ll have taken another step toward seeing whatever this new chapter in my life might hold.
Chapter 9
SEAN
CRAIG: How do you feel about a benefit for the children’s ward at Mercy Hospital?
CRAIG: All proceeds go to upgrades and the latest technology. Great cause and a perfect way to start getting involved.
ME: When?
CRAIG: Wednesday night. Shouldn’t impact your schedule.
CRAIG: I can’t promise there won’t be cameras or press. Looks like a pretty big deal from what I’ve gathered, but it’s not a stunt.
ME: Sign me up.
______
“You, GQ Man of Last Year. You’re going to this thing alone?”
Mark’s teasing astonishment comes through my phone, sitting on my dresser. I expect this from him. My brother from another mother doesn’t do events alone.
Mark, Shane, and I found each other at a group home. Growing up in the system formed a bond between us that cannot be broken. They’re my brothers in every sense that matters. But just like all siblings, we don’t always see eye-to-eye.
“Yeah. Believe it or not, people can attend functions without a date.”
Mark scoffs. “What’s the fun in that?”
I ignore the question. “Anyway, you don’t go to enough of these things. You’re too busy hitting up the next party and hot young thing. You should send a check. One hundred percent goes to the children’s hospital.”
“Why aren’t you just sending a check? Then you could sit at home and rest. Don’t you have a game?”
I do. I have a game in two days, so I should stay home and rest, but this is important. Even though my body is sore and I have a slight ankle sprain, I’m going. I’ve been looking for opportunities to give back, and this is only a few hours of my time and a click of a button to donate.
I’ve made enough excuses over the years and told myself enough lies that kept me from doing things that matter and spending a whole lot of time doing things that don’t. So I’m going. I want to see how this bit of time and money benefits these doctors, nurses, and kids. I’m hopeful it might lead to other ways of helping and providing.
I unbutton the top button on my shirt, deciding to go without a tie this evening. It’s a formal event, but what will they do, kick me out? In the bathroom, I splash on some aftershave and then grab my suit coat.
“I still don’t understand what the hell is going on with you,” Mark grumbles. “Look, I think I understand breaking up with Morgan, but the rest of this, the no more parties, events, magazine spreads…I don’t get it. It’s just part of what we do.”
I stop on my way to the garage and look out at my backyard. The sun is setting, and the dim light filters through the trees. It’s peaceful. Serene. Growing up, peace wasn’t something I understood or experienced, so when I see it or feel it now, it overwhelms me.
The beauty of the fading sun, the stillness and quiet, makes me pause. I realized I’d stopped noticing it. Rushing from onething to the next or sitting in pain and discomfort, I’ve taken moments like this for granted. Something at one time I thought I’d never do.
As a boy fighting to survive in foster homes, I could only dream and hope for this–moments of calm and quiet, safety and security. I have it now, but I’ve been flying right past them, seeking the next offer of praise or approval. Now, I wouldn’t mind just sitting here and watching the sun work its way below the horizon.
Hearing Mark cuss at something, I’m pulled back to the phone.
“Don’t you ever just get tired of all the bullshit?” I keep my voice soft, not wanting to disturb the sight before me. “It’s not real, Mark. The girls you hang out with, the parties you go to with all those people, the fans chanting your name who think they know you...it’s only because of what you do on the field. It’s not because of who you really are. Don’t you just get sick of wondering if any of it is real?” I pause. “When all that is stripped away, those fans, those parties, those girls…what’s left?”
“It’s just part of what we do, man.” He says it like it’s no big deal. “Someday, no one will give a shit about who we are. We’ll just be some has-beens, so for now, I’m living it up.”
I think about that for a moment. I know someday, all of the fame and notoriety will be long gone, only a memory to go back and visit from time to time. Are there perks to this life? Absolutely. Is it amazing to walk out onto the field and hear the fans chanting my name or have a kid approach me, dreaming of being me one day? It’s an honor, especially coming from my background.
What I know is, though, it will all fade sooner than we think or want it to, and when it does, I don’t want to be standing in sinking sand because I didn’t see the danger of it when I should have.
