Page 63 of Trick Play

Obviously, a contract to play professionally, but where? For what team? With who by his side? Did he even think that far ahead, or was it more of a week-to-week basis?

We were both in survival mode, trying to make it to our own finish lines.

That’s what I saw at the other end of the bridge. Technically, I was standing on the side that I’d be living on, but it didn’t matter. I was looking back at the direction that took me to West Penn.

I’d changed my dreams there. I adjusted my life based on the choices I made. Like following Ethan. That wasn’t something I could blame him for, as much as I often liked to in the past. That was entirely up to me. He never pressured me, but he did tell me he wanted us to stay close and continue our relationship through college, so silly me for believing an eighteen-year-old boy.

This bridge was four years long. Full of pain and challenges, but also laughter and friendship and opportunities for me to grow and evolve as a person and artist.

I was standing on the other end, weeks away from graduating in a major I never would have considered if all the conditions hadn’t been just right, or wrong. My love and talent for graphic design never would have been discovered. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to have so many job choices waiting for me. I wouldn’t have met Lauren or planned a future with us taking the next big step together.

She might not be the person I thought I’d be walking away with, but she was my soul mate in another way. A lifelong friend I never would have met if I’d taken another bridge.

I made it.

I was moving on and ready to start the next chapter of my life.

Ethan stood and handed me the camera, but I stopped him while rubbing my gloved hands together.

“Can you go down to the other side and take a picture of me?”

He grinned and turned to jog to the middle. He glanced over his shoulder and gauged the distance before going to the other end. He raised his thumb in the air and started taking pictures as he walked toward me. I didn’t change my pose as I stood facing him, feeling more confident than I had in years.

I was in the right place. I made the right choices.

It was the first time I felt the truth in my bones, and I wanted to document it. I wanted to show the world that I made it. I found my way to the other side.

“Now what?” he asked once we were within feet of each other.

“Film?” I offered as I pulled my older camera from my backpack.

“Sure, I’ll keep this one out just in case.” He pulled the strap over his head and let it hang around his neck. “Do you have another bridge in mind?”

“The Clemente Bridge has locks on it like the one in Paris,” I mentioned without considering why I was bringing it up.

“Let’s head that way.” He turned and led us to the path that paralleled the Allegheny River. “Did you bring a lock?”

I focused on the water below us. “No, honestly, I’m not sure why I even mentioned it. Our piece isn’t about love or couples.”

“No, but it’s about connection and relationships and progress. The people that leave locks believe in their love in that moment, but what happens in the days or weeks or months that follow? Do they come back and check on their locks? Do they forget about them and let them rust over? Do the couples make it? Do they get engaged next to their lock? Do they never see that person again?”

Seeing this side of him, the introspective, mature, and slight romantic side, felt like a flash into the past. He would have moments like this. When I would stare at him and wonder what else went on in that beautiful mind of his. I hated the way teachers treated him as if he wasn’t intelligent because he didn’t fit the standard for how they taught. His mind simply worked differently.

He might fixate on something they didn’t deem necessary, but look at how much he considered the locks that most people passed without a second glance. I thought they were a cheesy, stolen idea for couples to profess their love. Unnecessary and meaningless.

But Ethan saw beyond that.

I had an idea. I stopped walking and grabbed his arm. “Can I see the pictures you took?”

He held the camera up, and I stepped closer to review the screen. The photos he took of me were perfect for what I was imagining.

“I think I’ve got it.” I glanced up, shocked at how close he was to me.

“Yeah?”

I swallowed and wanted to step back, but he was connected to the camera so it wasn’t an option. “In these, you kept the background as the focus. The end was the goal. The process of getting there was blurry. That’s our professional life. From starting school as children to college. The end was always clear, but the way of getting there could be messy. The details didn’t matter as long as you reached the end.”

He nodded along like my ranting might actually make sense.