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HUNTER
“So,youplanto play for the Bears in Chicago?” Dr. Forrester says with a wide smile. She looks genuinely happy for me, like I’ve made some sort of break through after all these sessions and meeting with her.
Unfortunately, it’s hard for me to feel the same.
“Y-yeah,” I say nervously while gripping my hands in my lap, not knowing exactly where to look. I hate looking at that smile. Everyone has been congratulating me these past several weeks. I know I should feel happy, excited that all my hard work has led me onto this path. Instead, every time I feel someone patting me on the back, shaking my hand, offering me their congrats, all I can see is Rachel’s sad green eyes staring back at me.
“But you don’t look happy, Hunter.”
I flinch and peek up at Dr. Forrester. She’s leaning back in her chair now, tapping her pen against her chin while she regards me.
“Is there something else you want to talk to me about? Has anything happened with your peers? Or your friends?”
“Well,” I begin with a wince, “there is a girl.”
Dr. Forrester rustles through the papers on her desk. “A girl?” she murmurs. “Is her name Rachel?”
I bob my head. I don’t know if I’m ready to discuss this, but I know my concerns will only grow the more I push them away. “Yeah, Rachel. She’s a girl I’ve been seeing for a while now.”
“Since last year?”
I nod again.
“Is it serious?”
I wince. “I think so.” As I think of Rachel, memories float in and out: of her helping me when I was too drunk or too high to find my way home, us in Paris talking over a cup of coffee, her in my arms, her hands in my hair. “It definitely seems serious,” I rush out. “But I haven’t really had a relationship before.”
“So this one is the longest?”
“Yep.” My hands slide against my jeans while my leg fidgets up and down. “I don’t really know what to do,” I say while staring at my hands. “I’ve always wanted to play in the NFL, but I don’t know how Rachel fits into everything. Will we do long distance? Will we break up?”
“What do you want, Hunter?”
My gaze meets Dr. Forrester’s, her eyes are watching me, as if she already knows the answer to my question. It’s the answer I’ve been trying to avoid since last semester ended; the answer that’s been haunting my dreams, both waking and sleeping for too long.
“I want to play in the NFL,” I breathe, not feeling any better. Tears sting my eyes and I quickly wipe them away. “But I don’t want to hurt her.” My voice comes out gruff. “I love her. But I feel like—” I choke on the words, finding it difficult to speak as a sob threatens to take me.
I lean toward the tissue box resting at my side and quickly take several tissues, blowing my nose. My face feels hot, like it’s about to catch on fire. I feel ashamed allowing myself to be so weak in front of Dr. Forrester. I have broken down in her office before and every time I do, Dr. Forrester has told me it’s alright to show emotion.
“Too often, men are raised to believe expression emotion is weak,” her words repeat in my head, “when in fact, it’s not a weakness at all. It’s your mask slipping away. It’s you being you.”
“I feel like, if we don’t break up, she’ll be waiting for someone who may never return,” I finish calmly, my voice sounding distant to my ears. I imagine Rachel waiting for me to call, waiting for me to write, constantly waiting for me rather than enjoying her college life. Sure, she has the bros: Alex, Seth, and Lucas. But I know she would still be hurt if I broke my promises due to an interview, or training, or drinks with the teammates.
I can’t do that to her.
I can’t make her wait for someone who may never return.
“You worry about leaving her behind,” says Dr. Forrester.
I nod. “Yeah, I do.”
“It’s quite common for graduates to feel that way. You’re moving on. Starting a new life, a new path. It’s common for others to feel left behind. Do you have anyone else in your friend group you could speak to? Anyone else graduating?”
I wince. “There’s Lucas, but—” He doesn’t have a plan. I can’t say that. To voice something so harsh and dismal would be like betraying Lucas. His plan is just different from mine. He plans to remain with Rachel, to spend his next year or two working at the cafe and writing. “His plan is different from mine,” I finish. “He isn’t leaving the town. Whereas, I have been dreaming of leaving this place and playing for the NFL since I was a kid.”
Dr. Forrester nods as she stands. “So he won’t be able to empathize as much as you need him to.” She walks toward the door and I quickly rise, only now looking at the clock and realizing that we’ve gone over our allotted time. “Well, Hunter, only you know what is the best for you.” Her hand lingers on the door, but she doesn’t open it as she stares up at me. “You don’t need to make a decision right now.”
“I need to soon,” I say, my heart lurching in my chest and my insides twisting around themselves.
