Cody
Nothing matters any more. Everything is…blank. Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Really, everything hurts. I thought Kimmy ripped my heart out. I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I didn’t know what it was like to have and to love a good woman. And then I did. And then I subsequently lost said good woman and my life turned to shit. Not really. Everything is still the same. I’m still the head football coach for Tall Pines High School. I’m still the son and grandson of some amazing people. I still have friends in this town. Although some, like Sam, are defecting to Angel’s side. And I can’t blame them. I wish I was there too.
But I’m here. Sitting on the floor of my living room because the couch was too good for the likes of me. Actually, I got
from work; saw the couch and all I could think about was tickling Angel on the couch. Fucking Angel over the arm of the couch. So I grabbed a bottle of scotch, and sat on the floor. The floor is my friend, it doesn’t judge me.
I also no longer sleep. I kind of just battle nap in between bouts of anger at everyone who told me to lie and self-loathing over how I could be such a moron. I just go back and forth back and forth. Never coming to a resolution.
Then in the mornings, I get up feeling like shit. And smelling of booze. So I tie on my running shoes and add some more punishment to my life. I run harder and farther. I work out longer when I get home. It is the only thing I have that even remotely takes some of the ache in my heart away. Not completely. Never completely. But if a little is all I can get. I’ll take it. That’s where I am. Those are my days. Lather, rinse, mother fucking repeat. It has been three days.
There’s a knock on my door and I answer it with a scowl on my face. I totally don’t care. There is absolutely no one I want to see with the exception of Angel, and I’m pretty sure she wishes I were dead. I am not surprised to see my scowl met by two scarier scowls. From my best friends, Sam and Holt; Who are holding brown paper bags and pizza.
“We came to tell you we’re here to watch the game,” Sam says.
“But really we’re here to get you drunk and talk some sense into you,” Holt finishes.
“Go away,” I tell them.
“No,” they say in tandem. I sigh and move away from the door, granting them entrance.
They head right to the coffee table and put the pizza boxes right on top. Holt, the more responsible of the two, goes to the kitchen and grabs the roll of paper towels and the bottle opener that magnets to my fridge.
I take the beer that’s handed to me and sit back and wait for their intervention of my life. Sam leans back in his seat like he’s king of his domain. Holt leans forward with his wrists resting on his knees. Here we go.
I knew we’d get here eventually. I just didn’t think these two would bring out the big guns so early in the game. They aren’t messing around. But I knew, sooner or later, we would arrive at this destination.
Right after Angel left my office, I lost it. I mean I mother fuckingstreet car named desireall up in this place except instead ofStella, I screamedAngelover and over again. I screamed her name and tried to go after her, but her fucking father stopped me. He held me back and wouldn’t let me go, whispering things that were fucking with my already fucked head. Things like,Let her go.andYou’re not good enough for herand my personal favorite,Look what you’ve done to her.
I was still screaming when Sam and my dad came running down the hall, hell bent for leather, only to find I had lost my ever-loving mind. I screamed and raged some more. The new arrivals still didn’t know what was happening, but they soon figured it out.
When I realized everything I had lost, I gave up. I slump down the wall and buried my head in my hands. She’s gone. That’s all I could keep thinking.She’s gone. She didn’t let me explain. Wouldn’t listen. After everything, she just walked away. Because in the end, they all walk away.
Sam and my dad were screaming at me to tell them what happened. I couldn’t answer. I just sat there wallowing...like a girl... with Mayor McDoucheypants scowling at me from his place in the corner. Asshole.
Eventually, my dad told me in the nicest, manliest way possible to get my happy ass up or he was calling in the friendly guys with the funny white jackets and the butterfly nets. For fear of what would happen after they shot me with a tranquilizer gun, I got my happy ass up, grabbed my keys and headed home. I walked Steve up to my mom’s and told him to stay with her. Then I went home and got as drunk as I could, hoping against hope that the pain in my chest would fade. News flash: It didn’t.
“So what are you going to do?” Sam asks me. I look up realizing I had zoned out for a while. Whoops.
“About?” I ask. Holt just shakes his head mumbling something about someone having shit for brains.
“Angie. Obviously,” Sam snaps.
“What about Angie?” I ask.
“What about Angie?What about Angie?” He asks. Sam gripes.
“Do you love her?” Holt asks me, oddly quiet.
“Of course,” I answered, meeting his eyes.
“Then go get her,” he growls.
“You didn’t see her. She doesn’t want me. I hurt her,” I tell them.
“You fucked up for sure. And dollars to donuts, you’ll do it again. You have a dick; it’s bound to happen. But bottom line, if you love her go get her,” Holt says softly.
“He’s right man,” Sam tells me. “Look at Katy. She had the world in her hand and lost it at eighteen. Is that what you want? You want to walk around this town with a cloud over your head and everyone knowing you loved and you lost? That all that’s left for you is death so you can join the one you love on the other side? Or are you going to fight? Don’t you think if Katy could go back and change one thing so he came from that tour, tell Will she loved him one more time, she would?”
“I never told her that I love her,” I say choking back the less than manly tears.
“Buddy, she’s wearing your grandmother’s ring,” Sam says to me. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
“Maybe you should tell her now,” Holt tells me. But I just nod. I have to get my shit together for my Hall of Fame induction. Maybe after that, I’ll find her and tell her how much I love her. How sorry I am when we’ve all had time to cool down.
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” I tell them. “So, what does it feel like to be the coach of the Under 6 league soccer champs this season?” I ask Sam.
“Damn good,” He tells me on a soft smile. “Tomorrow morning is our last game of the season. It’s going to be awesome!”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” I laugh as I tell him. But I never would. That morning, Sam and his daughters were on their way to their soccer game, the last game of the season when they were hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly. I can’t help but think about Aliza now and Sam’s own words of living life while you can, because in the end life is too damn short. And I miss my friend.
