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I watched as she shot off a text to my girlfriend, curious what she told her.
Before looking up from her phone, she told me, “I told her you were in an accident and that she could meet us at home in an hour.”
“Thank you.”
She put her phone back in her purse before standing, leaning over me to kiss my forehead in the way moms did. “I’m going to go talk to the doctor and see when we can get you. I’d hate to say I lied to Mo.”
She said it in jest, but the ‘lie’ thing hit me in the gut. Still, I gave Mom a smile and closed my eyes as she left the curtained room.
Dad may not be pissed at me, to the extent of hating my guts, per Mom, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that this was my second strike.
This was going to be a long year.
***
“No, Noah, I am not putting you on video. He’s not supposed to strain his eyes. You know better,” Mom said into the phone as she unlocked the front door. I followed her into the house, my body aching, and moved to collapse on the couch. I rested my head on the back cushions, hoping that Mo would get here sooner than later.
God, I felt terrible.
Physically, yeah, but also mentally.
“…damn well that boy is going to be texting this week, Ryles.” I opened my eyes and turned my head toward Mom, who dropped her purse on the buffet table behind the love seat and sat. Mom must have switch the call to speaker.
“I put you on speaker, Noah,” she said, telling Dad what I’d just figured out.
I closed my eyes again and breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly through my nose.
“You ok, Porter?” Dad asked through the air waves.
“I’m ok.” I kept my eyes closed. I could just picture Dad’s face, irate with me for ruining his truck.
“You hurt anywhere more than you told the doctors?”
My Dad knew me incredibly well. I had been known to fib about aches and pains in the past, just so I could play the rest of a game—or the rest of the season, for that matter.
When I didn’t answer right away, Dad cut back in, “Porter.”
“No.”
“Porter, you can’t be stupid when it comes to your head.”
“Noah…” Mom warned.
“Ryleigh, it’s not his first concussion.”
“But you can’t call him stupid.”
I lifted a hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose, pinching my eyes tight. “I didn’t lie. To the doctors.”
“We’re going to talk when I get home.”
“I know.” I said it quietly, but I knew Dad heard it through the phone.
There was a deep pause before his voice cut through again. “Ryleigh, take me off speaker phone.”
I heard the tell-tale beep as she did just that and I started to move to get up, ready to head to my room.
“Ok, one second.” I glanced at my mom, narrowing my eyes when she pointed at me. She stood and handed me the phone.
