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“Have you ever asked me if I wanted to play football?”
“It doesn’t matter because you’re good at it.”
“It does matter, Dad. It matters what I think of it.”
“I saw you throwing those passes today. No quarterback leaves the pocket to run the ball for a touchdown if they don’t love what they do.”
“Well, I guess you’re wrong because there’s a part of me that’s relieved that I’ll never have to play again.”
“You’ll play again. I’ll guarantee you that,” my father said with his eyes narrowing on me.
“No, Dad. I won’t,” I said taking the first stand of my life. “I’m done. You forced me to do it my whole life, but you heard the doctor. I’m done.”
“That man doesn’t know who you are. I do.”
“You don’t, Dad. You’ve never known. I’m not doing it again. It’s over.”
After twenty-two years, I wasn’t sure what had given me the courage to say that to him. Maybe it was meeting Quin and realizing I could have a life outside of football. Before him, all of my friends and everyone I dated was there for Cage Rucker, the football star and NFL prospect. Quin was the most thoughtful, wonderful guy I had ever met and he couldn’t care less about who I was. Besides, he was famous enough for the both of us.
As painful as it was, maybe my injury was a blessing. It was my way out. The doctor was very clear. My season was over. Coach and my teammates would understand that. And although it will be the talk of sports media for a while, they’ll quickly forget about me.
After that, I could have the freedom to do what I really want to do. I wasn’t sure what that was yet. But I was sure it included Quin.
My father left my hospital room without another word. There was no question that he was leaving to get drunk. He would be back, though. I knew my father. He wouldn’t give up on his cash cow just like that. I might have made my decision about it, but what I wanted never mattered to him. He wouldn’t give up on getting what he wanted.
“I’m sorry about that,” the doctor said sympathetically.
“Injuries happen,” I told him hiding the relief I felt that my football career might finally be over.
“I meant, about your father.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I said finally numb to his constant heartbreak. “Thanks.”
“Do you have any other questions?”
“Yeah. Has anyone else come to see me? Maybe there was a guy, 5’9”, shaggy dark hair, cute as all get out?”
“I can check. But your visitations haven’t been restricted. So, if he came, you would have seen him.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I said disappointed.
I understood, though. Yes, something was developing between us. But we weren’t at the ‘rush to the other’s hospital bed’ level yet.
There was no question that I wanted to see him. He was the only person I cared about coming. Everyone else was great and I appreciated them for it. But staring into his beautiful eyes always made my day. Doing that now would make me feel like everything was going to be alright.
When the game was over, there was an endless parade of teammates and coaches in and out of my room. They all looked at me like I was dying. It was obvious that I was out for the season. They could figure out what that did to my NFL prospects.
I played along as if I was devastated. But each time someone knocked on my door, I had to hide my excitement that it would be Quin and the two of us would begin our new life together.
After I didn’t hear from Quin the first day, I was sure that I would the day after. I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t hear from a lot of the people I thought I would. I knew that part of the reason was that winter break had begun and the majority of the school had headed home.
Dan couldn’t afford to fly home for winter break so he visited a couple of times. So did Tasha who grew up an hour away. My father never came back after that first day. And confusingly, Quin never showed up.
I tried not to feel heartbroken. He was a good guy. If he didn’t come to visit, there had to be a good reason.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. The best I could come up with was that he had booked a flight home for immediately after the game. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have had the time. But, why wouldn’t he have at least texted?
When I realized that he wasn’t going to, I decided to text him.
