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I'm on the verge of a panic attack. Tears build and they try to leave me, justifying the emotions I've been pushing away. I can't become weak. I can't fall into this self-pity. Kick after kick and I'm still getting back up. I need to break through this and think logically.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket.Greg.
I slap both hands on my head, holding them over my eyes before I drag them down my face. The amount of stress I can manage in one day has gone drastically over my limit.
“Hello?” I answer with a sigh.
“Hey, Dyl, it's Greg,” his boisterous tone pounds into my ear.
“No shit, Greg.”
“Ha, saucy…” he comments humorously as I roll my eyes. “I was just calling, hoping we could talk for a minute.”
My heart races in my chest, awaiting the ass-whooping I'm about to receive for bailing on Lake today. I'm sure he called him after the session, or perhaps after the awkward shopping center encounter, complaining about how unprofessional and fucking weird his therapist is. It makes sense now why he thought I was strung out on drugs.
“Lake is requesting you in Arizona next week.”
Shock hits me. “Uh, what?”
“The team is traveling to Arizona to play the Cardinals Monday night.”
“No...no, Greg, I can't—”
“He's offering a ride on the private jet, a hotel suite just for you, and paying a shit ton of money just to have you there to continue his therapy while on the road.”
Shit ton of money.He tells me how much a shit ton of money is, and yeah, it's more than I would imagine any trainer in the NFL would receive. But why?
I peer towards Colin's room. It's not like we don't need it. But I don't even know if Katia is available next week to watch over him.
“Make arrangements if you can. This is a great opportunity to market yourself and get a foot in the door to the big leagues, Dyl.”
After telling Greg I need to work a few things out to see if that's even possible, we hang up. I stare at my legs extended before me on the dingy carpet of our apartment floor. My mismatched socks taunt me further, almost chastising my inabilities as a guardian. The bright smiley face on the left one, laughing at my many misfortunes.
But I promised him that night, when they found us alone together at home, that we'd be okay. They knocked on our door in their uniforms with their flashing lights behind them, changing everything with a simple sentence. Our parents died in that accident, leaving us to fend for ourselves in a broken system. A system in which a younger sister isn't old enough to be the legal guardian to the only person who ever understood her.
The horrific incident left me searching, endlessly swimming, towards what seemed like a mirage of hope, finding a way for us to be together again. I’d managed a mountain of debt from getting swindled into false promises from money-hungry lawyers.
And now, I found myself still tirelessly treading, needing to find a way to keep our heads above that same water that threatens to dismantle every stick from this dam I've been working to build.
10
Lake
Beingbackontheroad with the team is breathing life into my crippled, broken form.
Hanging around the guys again, the inappropriate jokes, the locker room talk, the male camaraderie…it’s everything I didn’t know I was missing. I’m getting soft when I’m away from the team. Thinking about strange girls I don’t need to think about, chasing them in parking lots, calling to ensure they join me on away games.
I didn’t need to bring her. Shit, she gave me enough paperwork for exercises to last me a lifetime. Also, it’s not like we don’t have trainers in the NFL, here to attend to our every need. I don’t need her here. I’m soft.
It's the healing I'm into.
Not Dylan.
No. She’s quite weird, actually.
Healing and getting better is what I’m into, so I can return to what I do best.
My mother reiterated how excited she is to see my face on the TV again, even if I’m only on the sidelines. Just knowing she’s looking forward to that makes me want to do anything in my power to get back up on that screen.
