38. Ghost From His Past
GHOST FROM HIS PAST
“ W arren,” Coach said to him when he walked into the facility two and a half weeks later.
He knew damn well Emma was going to kick his butt, but he needed to see everyone. It was not like him to be gone this long and they were all blowing up his phone anyway.
Maybe if they saw him, they’d give him a little peace.
“Hi,” he said. “Got a minute to talk?”
“Oh boy,” Coach said. “I don’t like the look on your face. You had your appointment earlier, right?”
“I did,” he said. “With the team doctors.”
He also saw a specialist on his own and didn’t tell anyone. He wanted to know from more than one source what could be going on.
“And?” Coach asked. “What did they say? You’re looking good.”
“They said I’m healing well, and on track, but still at least another full week or more before they’d consider releasing me to practice.”
“There aren’t that many more weeks left,” Coach said. “We need you.”
“I know,” he said. “But I can’t push this.”
“We might miss the playoffs,” Coach said.
“We might,” he said. “But the team played well last week and won. If they can hold it together for a few more weeks, I hope to be back.”
Maybe. He wasn’t so sure. He didn’t like what the specialist he saw had to say.
“It’s all we can do,” Coach said, nodding. “I’m glad you stopped in to see us. The guys will want to see you. Are you going nuts sitting home alone?”
“I’m with Emma,” he said. “Not at the house. It’s easier to recover at her place.”
Coach hummed in his throat. “It’s been quiet with you out. Things have settled down some with the news of her mother. You shouldn’t have gotten sucked into that.”
“I didn’t,” he said. He thought he answered the questions well. His “no comment” or “let’s talk about football” was getting stale on his ears but was doing the job.
How Emma handled things on her end was up to her.
She did something similar when she got sick of all the questions about him.
“If you say so,” Coach said. “You’ve had a lot happening in your life lately. During that game, you weren’t your best. What was going on?”
He wasn’t going to say he’d had a lot on his mind and couldn’t focus.
He’d never admit that to anyone.
But it had nothing to do with Emma and even less with her family’s notoriety.
It had more to do with a ghost from his past that wouldn’t leave him alone.
“I had an off day,” he said. “We all have them. You can’t expect me to be perfect week in and week out. No one is and you don’t ride their asses over it.”
“I’m not riding your ass,” Coach said. “We are just talking. Don’t get worked up.”
He didn’t know why he was. It went back to the fact that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind lately.
Maybe it still had to do with his head injury, he didn’t know.
“I’m not,” he said. “I told you what they said. We are looking at at least three more games that I’ll be out. A week and a half or more before I’m seen again and then I’ve got to practice before I’m off the IR.”
Coach held his stare. “We’ll get you back to where you need to be. I’m not worried about you. You take your health seriously.”
“I do,” he said. Which was making all of this even harder.
It wasn’t just providing for his family that had weighed on him for years. It was not being there for the woman he loved. Having kids someday and worrying about CTE as he got older.
He was stupid to think that last year would be an isolated incident since he’d gone so long without injuries.
He knew he was at a higher risk of getting another concussion after the first. Then he got a second so close to that one. This one was worse, and watching the play again and again, it didn’t seem as if it was that hard of a hit.
The thought of returning to the field made him want to puke.
“Then rest up good,” he said. “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving this week?”
“I’m spending it with Emma’s family.”
His mother and sisters were going away for a long weekend. Something he’d set up for them months ago as a graduation gift for Stacy.
It worked out well so his mother wouldn’t be hovering over him and making him feel guilty if he couldn’t spend time with Emma either.
“You’re getting cozy there, it seems,” Coach said.
He wasn’t going to talk about his private life. “If that’s all, then I’ll go see the guys and be on my way.”
“Keep me posted with updates,” Coach said.
He tipped his head down, walked out, and found his way to the field where the team was practicing. He had to take several deep breaths to calm his heart and push away flashbacks of his injury.
They stopped and came over to talk with him. Even DeMarcus, who had insulted him for playing badly before he was knocked out, stopped and came over to talk.
Maybe he’d wanted to prove everything was okay by running into the end zone.
Or it could be he had his father’s face in front of him as he plowed through guys for that score.
Who the hell even knew anymore?
He assured everyone he was doing well and on the mend and hoped to be back soon.
He wasn’t sure if it was a lie to himself or them.
Once he was home, he called his mother to give her an update on the exam.
“That sounds good,” his mother said. “I’m glad you’ll be out a few more weeks. I selfishly wish it was longer.”
He couldn’t tell her he was thinking the same thing. That would only worry her more. He’d kept most of his worries to himself in life and would continue to.
“We’ll just take it day by day,” he said. “Have fun with the girls.”
“We will,” his mother said. “I’m glad you’ve got Emma with you for the holiday. I would have told your sisters to go alone if I thought you’d be by yourself.”
“I won’t be,” he said.
He wasn’t going to say he was going to be alone tonight and tomorrow though. He was meeting Emma at her parents’ house on Thursday, midmorning.
She’d told him if she got everything done on time, she’d go over on the ferry Wednesday night so she wasn’t rushing Thursday. He wanted her to come here, but that was almost another hour for her, and they’d just spent two weeks together.
Two great weeks for him and he thought the same for her.
Half the time she ignored he was even there. There were some nights he had no idea when she came to bed, but he’d wake up and she’d be sleeping next to him or curled up against his side.
She wasn’t even tossing and turning or kicking the covers off as much. As if she had gotten used to not being alone.
At least he hoped that was the case.
He sent a text to Emma next to call when she had a moment. Who knew when that would be?
He was doing laundry from his clothes at Emma’s when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket thinking it was Emma, but it was his father.
He wouldn’t be a coward and put this off again.
It needed to stop taking up space in his life.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Warren?” his father said.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Are you okay? No one is getting back to me. Not even your girlfriend.”
“What?” he asked. “You reached out to Emma? How? When?”
“On Facebook,” his father said. The same voice in his nightmares. The man he never wanted to be and knew he wouldn’t.
No one could be that selfish.
But was he being that by continuing to play because he thought just a few more years and some more money would set everyone up for life?
Or was it he was afraid to start a new life not knowing if he’d be good at anything else?
He knew what he was good at. Football.
What happens when that is gone?
But could he continue to play and risk his life?
“She probably didn’t know who it was,” he said. He wasn’t sure why she had said nothing to him. “You just wanted to know how I was doing?”
“That and that I’ve been trying to reach you. I need your help.”
Nothing changed. It wasn’t about how he was doing but a ploy to get to him.
“You know,” he said, “you were never around when we needed you. What makes you think we should be there for you?”
There was silence on the other end. He wouldn’t let himself get worked up over this when he felt the pulsing in his head.
“I was a shitty father and husband,” Sean said.
“Yeah, you were,” he said.
“I felt sorry for myself and did the one thing I said I’d never do. I took after my father.”
Guess that was something they had in common. Not wanting to take after their father. He was sticking to his promise.
“What do you want?” Warren asked. “We are past heartfelt conversations and asking for forgiveness.”
“I want to get clean,” his father said. “I need help. I want to be there for you when I wasn’t before.”
“Don’t go there,” he said. “Don’t even try. You see me in the news with Emma and you see where she is from and you want a piece of that. You’re not coming near me or her or anyone else in the family. You had a lot of chances to get clean and chose not to.”
“It’s different this time,” Sean said.
“No,” he said. “It’s not. We know it’s not. Don’t lie to me.”
There was a pause, and he’d continue to be silent until his father spoke again.
“Do you know what it’s like for people to know you’re my son and I’m here working some union job?” The angry shift in his tone said it all.
“And there is the dick that walked out on us. Don’t reach out again.
Not to me or the girls or Mom. And sure the hell not Emma.
If I find out you did, I’ll take care of it in ways you can’t imagine.
And if you aren’t afraid of me, you should be afraid of her family.
Lose this number, but you’re getting blocked anyway. ”
He hung up after that and sat down with his head in his hands.
It was throbbing now.
He shouldn’t have taken that call.
Nothing ever changed, and he wasn’t sure why he thought it might.
To distract himself, he found the notebook he’d been writing in at Emma’s. The book he was plotting and hadn’t told her about. He’d said he’d try, but she never brought it up again.
It would take his mind off the real world and his problems that most wouldn’t think were problems and let him escape into something he had more control over.
Now he understood why Emma was always so happy and easygoing. She wrote her own endings.
Maybe it was time he did too.