Page 126 of Colliding with Ten

The broadcast cut to a slow-motion replay of the hit. They showed the impact frame by frame, Lennox’s head whipping to the side, and his body going limp before he even hit the ground. The commentators’ voices shifted from excitement to concern.

“That was a late hit,” the play-by-play man said. “Monroe was down. The whistle had blown. There is no excuse for that.”

“This is what happens when you let the bad blood boil over,” the color analyst said. He was a former linebacker himself, ten years removed from the game, and he was upset. “I don’t care what happened last year between these teams. You do not hit a quarterback who has given himself up. That is how you end a man’s career.”

Get up.

I pleaded with the screen. I couldn’t see Lennox anymore. Medical staff in blue jackets surrounded him. Players from both sidelines were kneeling, helmets off, some in prayer. The stadium had fallen silent.

Get up, baby. Please get up.

“Get the cart!” AJ shouted in the living room. His voice was stressed now. He understood more than anyone inside this apartment what was happening on that field. “If he’s not moving, they need to get the cart!”

A tear fell down my face, and I didn’t even bother to wipe it.

“He’s moving,” Meadow yelled. “Look, his hand.”

It was barely visible amongst the medical staff, but it flexed. Meadow had shouted for my benefit. She knew I was watching from my room. Lennox was bending his arm, trying to push himself up before the trainers eased him back down.

I collapsed back onto my bed.

“Monroe is showing signs of movement,” the play-by-play announcer said. “That is a very welcome sight for everyone in this stadium and everyone watching at home.”

“I’ll tell you what,” the color analyst said, “that young man is one of the toughest quarterbacks in this league. But that hit, from the way his head hit the turf, and him being unresponsive for that time, I think you’re looking at a concussion. There’s no way around it. He needs to be evaluated.”

The medical staff got him upright. He sat up first, then stood with support on both sides. They walked him toward the sideline, and the stadium gave him a standing ovation on both sides because some things transcended football. He disappeared into the tunnel, and they went to a commercial.

I shook from my hands to my knees. Meadow came into the room and watched me from the door. My legs moved to the closet, pulled out a bag, and filled it with clothes and supplies.

Meadow watched me pack, pacing as she did. “You’re going?”

“Yes.”

“Buffalo is six hours.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been drinking. Maybe you’re not thinking straight.”

I paused, wondering if she was right. Maybe the alcohol was giving me courage, but I wasn’t drunk and couldn’t sit here while Lennox was hurting. “I have to go.”

“You’re going to drive six hours in the dark to see a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.”

I stopped packing. Looked at her. “Yes.”

She held my gaze. Then she nodded. “I’ll handle AJ.”

My throat tensed. “He’s going to have questions.”

“But that’s not your problem tonight. Go.”

I zipped the bag and grabbed my car keys from the drawer. On most days, I hitched a ride with AJ to the facility because I hated driving in the city. I walked ahead of Meadow through the living room. AJ was still on the couch as the game came back on. Buffalo’s offense was running plays with the backup quarterback. AJ looked up as I passed with my bag over my shoulder and keys in my hand.

His mouth opened, but I gave him a look that shut it. We’d known how to read each other since we were kids. He knew I wasn't in the mood. His mouth closed, and I was out the door before he could change his mind.

When the Jeep started, I pulled out onto the street before the engine even warmed. The GPS already loaded the route, pointing north. I merged onto the highway. I was still running, but not from him this time.

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