Chapter 21
Sage
There are pages and pages of the file scattered over my hotel room bed. I’ve read over every detail of the doctor’s findings, and scrutinized each x-ray, MRI, and EEG result.
My stomach turns from some of the bruised and bloody images following the hit to Casey’s skull. The bleeding may have saved his life, though.
While the latest scans came back clear and normal, his doctor strongly advised against playing baseball again.
I drop the paper and inhale deeply. In all the examples I’ve read in my studies, the patient was never a professional athlete, but they all went back to work after a long rest and healing.
There is one name that pops to mind, though.
Pulling my laptop over, I search the name Brendon McCarthy.
Brendon McCarthy was a San Diego Pelicans pitcher who was hit by a pitch in the head.
Unlike Casey, McCarthy walked off the field but later a CT scan showed he had an epidural hemorrhage, brain contusion and skull fracture.
McCarthy underwent emergency surgery and didn’t play for the rest of the season, but he went back to baseball a little less than a year later.
Looking up from my laptop, I stare at the ceiling. McCarthy came back. He played again. Maybe there are others, too.
Looking down at the laptop again, I type head injury and baseball into the search browser.
McCarthy’s name comes up, and so does Casey’s.
There are photos of him on the ground and my body shudders as it recalls the fear that gripped my heart that day.
The last time I’d been that scared, I received a phone call that my parents were in a car accident.
I scroll down the long list of photos and articles about Casey, catching a headline that reads: “Doctor says pitcher Casey Tucker could have died that day.”
I scroll quickly past that one and click to the next page.
Somewhere near the bottom, there’s an article that isn’t about Casey or McCarthy, but someone named Chris Stevenson who also played with the Pelicans.
When a line drive hit Stevenson he fell hard to the ground.
An ambulance took him to the hospital where doctors say he suffered a serious concussion and laceration to his head but didn’t fracture his skull.
However, the part that makes me sit a little taller is that he returned to pitching three months later.
I close my eyes briefly and fan the flame of hope that sparks in my chest.
Gathering all the papers on the bed, I stack them neatly and put them back in the file folder. It feels as though I’m floating through my hotel room as I rush to get ready and see Casey. A smile remains on my face as I brush my teeth, put on my sandals and walk four blocks to his apartment.
When Casey opens the door, my smile widens and it’s contagious. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” he asks.
He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and those pants distract me every time he moves. I push my gaze back up and press my hands together. “Chris Stevenson went back.”
He blinks rapidly and crosses his arms over his chest. “Who?”
“Chris Stevenson.”
“Yes. I heard you, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
When he narrows his eyes, I sigh from frustration. “Chris Stevenson played for the Pelicans ten years ago, and he was hit by a pitch, only he went back to the Majors after three months and finished the season.”
I cross my arms in gleeful pride and wait for him to spin me around and tell me he can’t believe I found this information.
“So?”
“So?!” I ask. “So that means we should dig into this further. There could be a chance for you.”
His muscles flex as his chest rises and falls. He’s breathing heavily but his face shows nothing of his emotions. “That means shit, Sage. His doctors gave him clearance, but mine didn’t. I’m done. It’s over.”
“No. It’s not. I read the reports and your doctor’s recommendation is very conservative. There is less than a 0.001 per cent chance a ball will hit your head again. He is basing the rest of your life on something that will most likely never happen.”
He swallows and stares at me. I think I’m getting through, so I press. “Car accidents happen all the time, but it doesn’t stop us from driving.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I’m just asking for a second opinion. That’s all.”
He rubs his face with his hands. “Don’t do this,” he says. His voice is soft, yet it hurts me to hear the pain in it.
I grab his forearms and squeeze. “Do what?”
“Make me hope. I can’t. I don’t think I can go through that again. I won’t make it out this time.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but his eyes are like mirrors, glassy and bright. “Casey…”
“Please, Sage. Let’s just talk about something else.”
My heart sinks. This isn’t how I had imagined this morning to go. I thought he would be excited. I thought he would want to try, but he doesn’t even want to talk about it.
“Okay. Would you rather we went out for a bit? A walk, maybe?”
He shrugs. “No, it’s going to rain.”
Casey’s shoulders slump and he pulls away from me. “Let’s watch a movie, then.”
“I don’t think I can sit still for two hours.”
My chest tightens and I realize that he’s trying to get rid of me. He’s walking toward his bedroom and I pull him back. “Hey,” I say, and run my hand across his chest and over his shoulder. “Don’t shut me out, okay?”
He inhales a shaky breath and closes his eyes. My heart beats like a caged bird in my chest. I’m terrified that he’ll send me away and that no one will hear from him for weeks again. I’m terrified that he doesn’t want me here.
He opens his eyes and I’m lost in the rough seas of his gaze.
We’re just friends, I remind myself, but my heart and body argue back.
Not with words but with longing. I want this man so much.
The pain in his eyes holds me back. He’s hurting and I don’t know what he needs, but I also don’t want to leave him.
I’m stuck in this soggy middle of indecision, and I don’t know what to do.
“Casey, what do you want?” I whisper. The question holds so much depth, so many facets to my confusion.
He stares at me and his gaze drops to my lips. Cologne still lingers on his skin, and I breathe it in as he draws nearer. It is intoxicating being this close to him.
I close my eyes and wait for his kiss, but a few seconds later, his lips brush past my hair.
He steps away and runs his hand through his hair. “Tell me what’s going on with you?”
His question is so unexpected that I teeter on my feet. “W-what?”
“I’m tired of talking about myself. I want to know what’s happening in your life.”
He walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Can I make you something to eat?”
The air is cold around me and I shiver. Rubbing my shoulders, I shrug. “Um… maybe just tea. I’m not hungry.”
“Peppermint, right?”
I smile, glad that he remembered. “Yeah.”
He puts the kettle on and grabs a box of tea from his pantry. “So, how did your exams go?”
“Um, really well, actually.”
His face lightens. “That’s good. Tell me about them.”
“You don’t really want to hear about them, do you?” I tease.
He turns and grins. “I do. I really want to know everything about you.”
His words give me hope, a hope I shouldn’t be feeling.
“Well, let’s see. I aced the exam and my independent research paper.
I learned a whole lot about the human body and how it moves and reacts to difficulty.
It’s incredible how it adapts and pushes through even when it shouldn’t.
You know? It’s quite resilient, but at the same time, we shouldn’t ignore signals. ”
“What kind of signals?”
“Pain is one. Often we dismiss it. But more than pain, sometimes we don’t realize that a throbbing in our toe can be related to a muscle in our lower back.”
He laughs. “You’re kidding?”
“No. I’m serious. Our muscles, tissues, ligaments, everything, it’s all connected. Nothing moves in isolation. When one body part suffers, you can feel the pain in a multitude of areas.”
He looks down at the teacup and stares intently at it. I was strictly talking about the body, but the mind can work in a similar fashion. I want to tell him that it’s not just his body that needs to heal.
He smiles and brings me my tea. “Well, my toe is just fine, thanks.”
I smile but I want to say more. Instead, I sip my tea. It’s hot and I blow on it. Casey watches me and his gaze heats up, too.
“What do you plan to do now that you’ve gotten your Masters?”
“Well,” I say and walk up next to him while he prepares himself a protein shake. “I don’t know.”
He grins. “I find that hard to believe. Sage Summers doesn’t know what to do next.”
I shake my head. “I really don’t.”
“Mmm… something tells me it’s not from a lack of options. You attract many of those.”
I look up at him and wonder if we’re still talking about my work or if he’s asking me about my social life. I stick to work where it’s safer. “I do have an offer, but it’s not something I’m really considering.”
“What is it?”
“One of my professors spoke to me after my exam.”
He takes a sip of his shake and is watching me over the rim. “Go on.”
I sigh and get the rest over with. “He asked if I wanted to be part of a research team at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.”
“Wow, that’s amazing, Sage. Congratulations.”
His smile is genuine and I hate to disappoint him. “I’m not going to take it.”
There it is. A frown. “Why not? Isn’t that what you’re interested in doing?”
“Yes. It’s exactly what I want to get into. It’s an opportunity to help hundreds, even thousands of people through research.”
He shakes his head. “Then, I don’t get it. Why say no?”
“Because it’s in New York,” I snap a little too quickly, and perhaps a bit too harshly. I calm my voice. “Cedar Brook Falls is my home. I said I would never leave it.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
My eyes bulge, and I nearly choke on a sip of tea. “What?”
“You heard me. That’s ridiculous. Cedar Brook Falls shouldn’t keep you from doing what you love to do.”
“It’s not. I can still help those in the community by practicing what I love.”
“But you have the opportunity, as you said, to help potentially thousands of people. There’s barely three thousand people in all of the Falls.”
“It’s where I’ve always envisioned myself to be. It’s my home. I won’t leave it.”
“Why are you so loyal to a place? You should be loyal to yourself.”
“I think that’s an oxymoron. You can’t be loyal to yourself. You can only be loyal to others. So, I guess in a way I’m not loyal to the Falls but to the people who took me in when I had nothing left. Like Jane, Charlotte, and Frankie.”
I put the cup down and think about what I’d just said. It was true. I owed them everything. I wouldn’t have survived without them. I could never leave them.
“The people you love shouldn’t hold you back. They should love you enough to let you go and pursue your dreams.”
“They’re not holding me back. They don’t even know about the offer. I’m choosing not to go.”
“You’re choosing not to go?”
“Yes.”
He stares at me and I know there’s more he wants to say. Although this conversation makes me uncomfortable as the thought of losing my friends scares me to death, I want to know what he’s holding back. So, I wait.
But he shuts down and takes a large gulp of his drink. “I just think you’re making a mistake. You should at least meet with them. You don’t need to babysit me. You should go to New York.”
I know his words are meant to encourage me, to help me, but I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to get rid of me. “I said I’m not going to New York, so just drop it, okay?”
He puts down his cup and stares across the room. “Okay.”
I sigh and feel like I’ve completely lost track of the why I came here in the first place. Baseball.
“There’s a game on TV. Do you want to watch it?”
He shrugs but it’s not a ‘no’. I take it as a victory and turn on the television. Ironically, the Pelicans are playing the Angels, and the coincidence isn’t lost on me. A mysterious grin plays on Casey’s face, and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking.
But Casey simply sits down on the velvety couch, legs sprawled apart, and one hand still holding his cup. I sit next to him and curl my feet beside me.
It’s the seventh inning and the Angels’ pitcher is on the mound.
Casey is watching the game with an intensity I haven’t seen since I arrived in L.A.
He fixes his eyes to the television and his hand holding the cup drops to his thigh.
I’m mesmerized by the look on his face, jealous of the game if I’m honest with myself.
It captivates him, like no one else is in the room with him.
It feels as though baseball is his mistress.
He’s staring at the television, studying the movements of the pitcher and a look of pure joy crosses his face when he strikes the batter out.
I realize baseball is not his mistress.
No. It’s his first love.
Everyone else in Casey’s life is the mistress. Baseball grips his attention. It makes him happy. It transforms him like no one else can. It reaches into this soul and holds a place in his heart that I wonder if anyone could ever reach.
I turn away, so as not to show the pain in my eyes. But I shouldn’t have worried, Casey’s attention is not divided. It is solely in front of him.
After realizing that this is my pride talking, I watch the game with him. I lean back onto the couch, and remember why I love it, too. It’s one of the hardest sports to play, and yet some players make it look so easy.
As I sit there next to Casey, I lose myself in the game, too. I smile when the pitcher strikes out the next batter and grin when he makes him swing at an obvious ball. It’s magic when you truly appreciate it.
I’m so lost in the game that I almost miss it. It’s so soft and gentle that it’s nearly imperceptible. But his hand, strong and muscular, finds mine. He slips his fingers through and holds my hand tightly. A silent tear falls down my cheek, but I don’t dare let go to wipe it away.