I bet there are a lot of people who would be interested in something like that. Especially with soccer gaining more popularity here in the U.S. That would be a cool thing to do.
I hope that’s part of Hannah’s plan.
After my shower, I throw on a tank top and some running shorts and sit down at my computer to attempt to catch up on some work. That’s when I see it.
The email from Nathan.
They want me to come in for a Monday morning meeting following my WUSSL game in Birmingham on Saturday. The USSLRA headquarters are in Atlanta, so it makes sense while I’m in that zone of the country. They don’t want to pay to fly me there twice.
Which makes sense if they’re going to fire me.
The knot squeezes tight in my stomach as a wave of nausea passes over me. Whatever Hannah’s coming up with, it needs to be fast.
And good.
The inner me wants to pace around my apartment and hyperventilate and throw things. The outer me, even though I’m alone, does my best to keep cool, calm, and collected. I sit lotus style on my couch and attempt to meditate.
I don’t have the time or energy to wastefeeling. I need to be doing. That’s what my mom always did. She didn’t sit around bemoaning the fact that her son was born with a form of muscular dystrophy. Nope, she threw herself into it. She learned everything she could—and this was before the internet—which meant a lot of trips to the library and copying articles from microfiche. Kids today will never know how good they have it.
Then, there was the fundraising. We even got to fly to Las Vegas to be on Jerry Lewis’s MDA Labor Day Telethon when Benj was about five. I swear, if my mom wasn’t taking Benj to therapy, she was fundraising. And her efforts worked.
I mean, maybe not her directly, but as part of the larger collective. There have been new—
I jump to my feet. That’s it! Fundraising!
That’s what I need. A cause. A worthy cause. There’s only one in my book, but I’ll get involved again. I’ll take it public and that can be my platform. I owe it to the community. Without the recent gene therapies and medical advances, Benj wouldn’t still be here. When he was diagnosed, his life expectancy wasmaybe30 at best. He’s 32 now and obviously doing well enough to go gallivanting across the country.
I quickly dash off a message to Hannah with this idea. It’s time for me to give back, and if it helps clear my name and reputation at the same time, then it’s a win-win all the way around.
Just how I like it.
Chapter 16: Brandon
Iexpect a little flakfrom Coach Janssen or the rest of the team about my sudden vacation, but no one says anything to me. It’s like they didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.
Maybe they’re already convinced I’m getting fired.
