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She hangs up and I just sit there. Is she right?
And if she is, how do I convince Ellie to give me another chance?
I ponder it for so long that I fall asleep on the couch.
When I wake up, the sun is already shining through the window, and I have a wicked crick in my neck. Everything hurts. I bought a fancy bed so I wouldn’t wake up feeling every one of my vertebrate. I really should have used it.
I groan as I peel myself off the sofa.
I pick up my phone and it hits me that I can’t text Ellie the way I normally do. I can’t confess that I fell asleep on the couch. Or that I need heat, and ice, and a massage.
I can’t ask her what she’s doing.
I want to know what she’s doing more than anything.
I fly into my room, brush my teeth, change my shirt, and dash out to my car.
It only takes me five minutes to get to the hotel. I grab the first available spot in the parking garage and take the elevator up to Ellie’s floor. As soon as the doors slide open, I’m on the move down the hallway. I make a left and come to an abrupt halt.
The door to her room is propped open. The housekeeping cart is parked next to the wall.
It’s fairly obvious that she’s gone, but I peek into the room anyway.
The woman making the bed glances at me. “Can I help you?” she asks as she smooths the bottom sheet.
“Um…the woman who was staying here, she checked out?”
“Guess so. They wouldn’t send me in here at this hour if she was coming back.”
“Right…uh…thanks.”
I slink back into the hallway. I waited too long, and now she’s gone.
Over the next few weeks, discipline keeps me focused on the game during the day.
The nights are harder because I can’t control the direction of my dreams. Ellie flits in and out of my sleep, never waking me up, but making me restless. I like dreaming about her almost as much as I hate it.
I miss her, but I can’t make myself call her because I’m scared I can’t fix what I broke. I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to offer her my heart, and I don’t know how we’d make it work if she still wants it. It’s the unknown that’s killing me and I’m not proud that I haven’t taken the chance.
My broken heart doesn’t affect my play, which is wild because I’ve worried for years that distractions would be my downfall. Instead, the wins start to pile up. I’m solid and—more importantly—consistent. We lose in week three, but even then it isn’t my fault. The team, the media, and the fans are all cautiously optimistic. I’ve settled into the new system, and it shows.
I can’t help hoping that I’ve turned some sort of corner.
Being on the field feels a bit like it did at the beginning of my rookie year. The game is almost easy. I know enough now not to take it for granted. I nearly always have an open receiver and most of my passes are caught. The offensive line holds strong. I get knocked down a few times a game, but I get sacked infrequently.
Randy’s looming return is a double-edged sword. On one hand, he’s going to take the team down the stretch, which is always dicey for me. On the other hand, once he’s healthy, I’ll be sitting on the bench.
I spend all of my time at the facilities. Weekends, weekdays, nights, mornings. I study film. I work out. I run plays and practice routes with the guys until I can almost feel where they’re going to be. I’m living and breathing football. I love it, but I can’t deny something is missing.
What if success on the field isn’t enough?
I miss Ellie, and I find myself wondering if loving her would make me an even better player. Being with her relaxes me. I want to call her, but I still can’t make myself do it. What am I waiting for? How do I convince myself to take the chance?
I find myself having conversations with her in my head. Unsurprisingly, they aren’t nearly as good as the real thing.
As we enter our second-to-last game before our bye week, I’m as confident in my play as I’ve ever been. I step onto the field for warmups and immediately fall into the zone.
It’s a perfect October day. Warm without being hot, kind of cloudy, with a light breeze. The stadium is mostly empty—the fans are still enjoying their tailgates in the parking lot.
