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‘Didn’t I promise you a helluva game?’ I wrote.
I stared at my phone waiting for a response. A day passed and nothing came. I was about to text something else when Tasha arrived to drive me home.
I would have asked my father to do it but he wasn’t texting me back either. I didn’t want to think about what that meant. He couldn’t be that pissed at me, could he?
He had to have heard what the doctor had said. If I tried to come back this season it could cause permanent damage. If not for that, I probably would have played in the NFL for ten years, not because I wanted to, but because he wanted me to.
I was a good son. That had to be enough. How could that not be enough for him?
“You ready?” Tasha asked in a somber tone.
It felt like something was up with her.
“Yeah. Thanks for doing this. I don’t know what’s up with my dad.”
“Of course,” she said grabbing my bag as I maneuvered my way onto my crutches.
The drive back to my place was a long, quiet one. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to her. My playing football was at the heart of the dream that held us together.
She hadn’t been in my room when I told my dad what I had. She did know that my season was over, though. And, she was smart enough to guess it meant that my easy path to the NFL was gone.
What did we have left together? I had to bring our relationship to an end. I couldn’t do it now because she was in the middle of doing me a favor. But, I was going to have to do it whether or not I heard from Quin again.
Pulling into my driveway, my father’s truck wasn’t there. I felt a burn in the pit of my stomach. I dismissed it by telling myself that he was at a bar getting drunk.
I was about to get out of the car when Tasha stopped me.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I feel like it’s kind of shitty to do this now, but whatever. I think we should break up.”
I didn’t know if I was more relieved or rattled. Certainly, our relationship was going to end and her saying it meant that I didn’t have to. But, with everything in my life changing and Quin being M.I.A., I was hoping we could have waited at least a few more days to have this talk.
“I agree,” I told her.
“You agree?” She asked like she had said it as a test.
“Of course. You were with me because you wanted to be a football wife. You didn’t care about me. If you did you didn’t act like it.”
“You think I didn’t care about you?”
“If you had to choose between me and Vi, who would you choose?”
“Vi is my best friend.”
“Exactly. I feel like I should have been your best friend. Or, let me rephrase that. I feel like the person I spend the rest of my life with should be my best friend. And, I should be theirs. You have your best friend and it’s not me.”
“So, you’re blaming me for this?”
“I’m not blaming anyone. There were probably things I could have done to be a better boyfriend.”
“Yes, there were. So many things!”
“That’s fair. And, I don’t know how much of a difference doing those things would have made. I think you’ve just found someone you love more than me, and… I’ve found someone I love more than you.”
“You’re interested in someone else?”
