I lean back and exhale. “When I was injured, it wasn’t just my knee.”
Sadie’s brows furrow, and I want to reach out and rub the tension from her face, but instead I continue.
“Things got dark for me. It sounds so superficial to say I didn’t know who I was without football, but I didn’t know who I was without football. I had built my identity around it, and when it was taken from me, I was lost.”
There were days I didn’t leave my bed. I lost fifty pounds, shadows slipping beneath my eyes when they weren’t haunting me in my dreams. Shadows of who I could have been and who I was becoming—wasted talent, wasted years, wasted sacrifices all in the name of love for a sport that was as quick to abandon me as it was to define me.
I sigh before continuing, “Caleb found me one day in my apartment, skin and bones. I couldn’t eat. I could hardly stand formore than two minutes. I felt like a shell of a human. I was there but I wasn’t.”
I remember Caleb beating at my door, yelling my name repeatedly. I remember answering in a daze and seeing his face instantly morph from concern to fear, and that’s when I knew I looked as bad as I felt. He said I was more ghost than person. He quickly put his arms around me, afraid I would crumple to the floor.
“It’s strange thinking about it now. The guys all still had practice and games. The season had just started. I told them all I was fine. Told them all I just needed some time to figure things out. But instead, I was angry, then ashamed, then I was just alone.”
Sadie’s brown eyes are now pooling with tears I don’t deserve. I reach out and wipe one before it can trail down her cheek.
“I didn’t know,” she says softly.
I smile and shake my head. “No one did. Anyway, Caleb got me some help. I started seeing a therapist, a nutritionist, and a physical trainer. Caleb did what he knew to do—train the body and mind. He checked in with me daily—in person so I couldn’t send a text and lie that I was fine. He’s a good guy.”
“He seems to be. I like him,” Sadie replies as she reaches for my hand. I let her take it, feeling the warmth of her seep through my skin.
“Dr. Jones, my therapist, was patient with me. I’d never seen a therapist before. At first, I thought it was stupid. My first sessions I barely said two sentences, but then I started to talk. Yell. Cry. Everything came out. My dad, my mom, my grandpa . . .”
“Joe?” she questions, her tone lifting slightly.
“I love my grandpa, Sadie. I do, and he did his best, but you know Joe.” I squeeze her hand. “Emotion isn’t something he knows how to do, and I had a lot to sort through as a kid that I never did.”
She nods. “I do know. Joe would have told you to suck it up.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Yes, he would have, and tough love wasn’t what I needed. Not after the injury.”
She nods again. “He does love you.”
My heart grows heavy thinking about Grandpa and Sadie spoon-feeding him. “I don’t like that I hurt him. I didn’t know you were having to take care of him.”
“I love Joe, too,” she says. “Did he know? That you were . . .”
“Depressed?” I say before I shake my head. “No. Did he knowhewas depressed?”
Sadie’s eyes glisten. “I’m not sure Joe believes in that kind of depression.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, then I add softly, “It’s also when I started to pick up your Bible. I used to flip through as a kid trying to find myself in the stories. Brave as David. Strong as Samson. Chosen like Joseph. I liked the heroes. The ones who won.”
I pause, staring down at the field.
“But when I got hurt, I wasn’t looking for a hero to model anymore. Or a comeback. I was looking for someone who didn’t win and still chose to live.”
Sadie’s fingers tighten around mine.
“I read about Elijah wanting to die under a tree. About Peter failing after swearing he wouldn’t. About Paul begging for something to be taken away and God saying no.” I swallow. “I’d never paid attention to that part before. The part where strength didn’t fix it.”
I turn to Sadie. Her eyes are gentle, and I know my words are safe with her. They always have been.
“For the first time, I wasn’t reading to measure up. I was reading because I couldn’t. I didn’t open it to find myself in the victories. I opened it because I needed help sitting in the loss.” I shift in my seat. “It took me time, Sadie. I didn’t want to come to you broken. I didn’t want you to feel you had to fix me.”
“I wouldn’t have?—”
I shake my head. “You would have. You abandoned everything for your family. I knew you’d have done the same for me.”
