Griffin shrugs. “It really wasn’t much. But thanks for connecting me. It’s been nice to be helpful while I’m out of commission.”
Elliott’s eyes turn serious—a rare occasion. “But you know what else you’re doing, right? You’re showing these kids—and the rest of us—that there’s still life after setbacks. Not a one of these kids are going to the league, but they see you stepping up and making an impact even when you’ve been sidelined.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“You’re offering everyone way more than the entertainment of being a top player on the field. We all know players come and go; all of our time is limited. But you’re a living example of the fact that there’s life after football.”
Griffin’s mouth hangs slightly ajar.
This whole time, Griffin, though thoroughly enjoying it,had framed this work as a distraction, a stopgap. He’s felt a pulse of pride and fulfillment that he didn’t let himself examine too closely. Doing so would only risk extinguishing it somehow, overthinking it into oblivion. The injury had already created far too much time for Griffin to be alone with his thoughts. But now Elliott’s perspective makes sense of it all.
He’s right—this is proof that there is life for Griffin after football.
He’s just been too preoccupied to open his eyes to it.
“Thank you,” Griffin tells Elliott. “That helps in ways you’ll never know.”
A moment passes between them, and as the skin at the corners of Elliott’s eyes creases as he draws his face into a tentative frown, Griffin knows Elliott’s been thinking the same thing as him: This injury is most likely the end of his career.
The Wardens team—Griffin’s team—is supportive of pushing as hard as he wants to get back into game play shape. But Griffin is in the driver’s seat. He gets to make the call on what happens next.
Griffin isn’t a young buck anymore. There is no better comparison than being among these graduating seniors. Guys only a few years older than these boys wearing sport coats a size too big over their fathers’ ties are entering the league fresh and in their prime.
Now that Griffin believes for the first time that there is life for him beyond football, a good life where he can thrive, it becomes clear.
It’s time for him to hang up his cleats.
And not with resentment over the injury or with hard feelingsover being cut, but with gratitude for the honor of getting to play in the league. And with a new zeal for the next chapter of his life.
One in which he hopes he can do more of this—supporting youth athletes.
Chapter 48
Aria
This evening Aria is the headlining performer at the music festival that’s been raging throughout the city since late Thursday, and she welcomes it as a break from the studio. The stage is a temporary structure built of steel beams on the largest field in Roxbury Park, and it’s complete with a band and lights. No special effects, no dropping in from the ceiling or rising from the belly of the stage like Aria tends to do at her arena shows.
From the wings, she can actuallyseethe crowd. A group of young women decked out in rhinestones and cowgirl boots are twirling one another to the music of the opening band. They sip their tall beers and have eyes for only their best friends. Beside them, a few couples stand close, arms slung around one another. A smattering of people are bobbing their heads and singing along. All of them, real people. People in varying dress, coming from different places, watching from their unique viewpoint.
It reminds Aria that her fans aren’t a homogenous mass of sameness. They are all individuals.
Aria tries to imagine these people hearing her new music. She’s not overcome by horror. In fact, she wonders if the folks at Worldwide Records are terribly mistaken about what her fans want. As she’s come to do frequently while wrestling with her music making, Aria thinks of Griffin. Of that day in the studio. His smile is etched onto her mind so clearly that she hopes it never fades. In it, all of his belief in her shines. The buzz of his quiet presence, supporting her as she lost herself in the work.
Griffin might not be as frequent a visitor in her life as she wishes—although they did end up getting their social media posts up together, which has momentarily quieted the rumors—but Aria can’t help but count herself lucky to have had the closeness with him that she did.
Just this morning, Griffin made his own post on social media, one that’s since gone viral in its own way. He announced his intentions to launch The Griffin Hayes Foundation for Youth Sports during his recovery period, a foundation focused on raising funds for programs in underserved communities, as well as for student athletes seeking higher education. Griffin spoke from the heart about a recent event, and it inspired Aria so deeply that she can’t quite shake it.
Maybe it’s because of the way Griffin is seeking to do good—make good out of a bad situation—or perhaps more so it’s because the Griffin on that screen was the purest version of himself dialed up to max, but his eyes sparkled, genuinely lit up, and Aria was certain that he’d found magic outside of the game. She cheered for him. Even though he didn’t hear it.
A stage manager pulls Aria from her thoughts. “You ready? This act is thirty seconds from finished.”
Aria reaches for the guitar she’d stowed beside her. “I was born ready.”
She smiles deeply as she says it like it’s a joke, but Aria wonders if there’s more meaning to her words. Whatexactlydoes she believe she was born to do?
Aria is announced, and she doesn’t miss a beat before marching on in her signature leggy style, waving at the cheering crowd. The core members of her band join her: Marty on the drums, Rochelle and Kay on backup vocals, and Wilson also on guitar.
Once the crowd settles, they break into the first of the agreed-upon set. Aria knows all of her hits so well that even if they surprised her, by only the first few notes, Aria would be able to call the song and jump in. The crowd vibrates, singing, clapping, and dancing as the music floods the park, the city buildings lined up in the background like soldiers on guard.
