CHAPTER 30 #2
She pauses for a moment, her head tilting to the side as she studies me. “Your tone makes me think that maybe your mom isn’t here with us anymore?” she asks. “And I’m sorry if that’s overstepping.”
I shake my head, my nerves getting the best of me as I try to find my voice. “She, uh, she’s still here, but not technically with us,” I say, the words rushing out of me, filling me with relief but also dread.
“Oh.” Maple continues to rub my chest with her thumb. “I don’t want to pressure you to talk, but if you want to share more, I’m here to listen.”
I look into her eyes and feel the truth in those words. There’s no judgment there. There’s understanding. There’s empathy.
And this is why I like her, because she offers me a sense of calm in the wake of the destruction blistering through my head.
If only I’d seen this on Monday, rather than lashing out at her.
Fuck, I’m a dick. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles, so grateful that I made the decision to pursue her.
“I’ve never told anyone this or ever talked about it, really,” I say to preface my next statement.
“You don’t have to,” she says soothingly.
I look in her eyes and say, “I want to.” She nods, and I brace my hand against her hip, looking for warmth from her as I continue.
“I was sixteen, and my mom was out riding horses with a friend. She loved horses and was taking riding lessons. She was always super cautious and took it seriously. But this one day, she decided to hop on a horse really quick without any gear—she got in a fight with my dad that day and was looking for some peace—and the horse bucked her off, throwing her into a fence. She slammed her head against a pole, giving her a serious head injury, among other things.”
“Oh my God,” Maple whispers softly, only to lean into me, pressing her head into the crook of my neck while she grips me tightly, bringing me into a deep embrace, one I haven’t felt in years. I wrap my arm around her, holding on to her as well and welcoming the feel of her pressing into me.
Clearing my throat again, I continue, “She was in a coma for a few days, and when she came back to us, there was something off. Something different. We realized she wasn’t remembering why she was hurt or what happened.
After a gauntlet of tests and examinations, she was diagnosed with anterograde amnesia. ”
“What’s that?”
“It’s when your brain can’t form new memories, so basically all she’s ever known up to the point of her accident is all she will remember. Meaning, when I go to visit her, she doesn’t know who I am anymore, because to her, I’m supposed to be sixteen, not thirty.”
Maple sits up. “Oh my God, Graydon. That’s…that’s heartbreaking. I’m so sorry.” Her hand caresses my cheek. “Do you see her often?”
I wet my lips. “Every Sunday during the off-season.”
Realization sinks in as she thinks about my answer. “That’s why you couldn’t go to brunch.”
I nod. “I reserve Sundays for her and for…well, for me because…” I push my hand through my hair, hating this part the most but knowing it will help to get it off my chest. “When I visit her, there’s a high probability of her not believing who I am and not wanting to even be near me.”
Tears of empathy fill Maple’s eyes as she experiences my pain as hers. “I’m so, so sorry.” She presses her forehead against mine. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like.” Devastating. Heartbreaking. Lonely.
“It’s…it’s not easy. And it fluctuates; I never know what I’m going to get when I go to visit her.
Her nurse, Rhonda, tries to help me out, showing her a binder we put together of me growing throughout the years, gradually showing her the man I am now.
There are days when it works, when she pulls me into her arms and holds me, and those…
” I let out a sigh. “Those are the happiest days. But the days she can’t process the change, the days when she won’t accept me even being near her, they cut deep.
Sunday was one of those days.” My throat tightens as I say, “They, uh, they had to sedate her as she was screaming, begging for me to be with her, but not thirty-year-old me. She was looking for sixteen-year-old me.”
“That was this Sunday?”
I nod. “Yeah, and it broke me. Normally, I can handle it, but this time, it cut me deep, and I brought those feelings into the next day.” I cup her chin, making sure I look her in the eyes when I say this.
“That morning, I wasn’t angry or upset with you or anything that you did.
I was spiraling from what happened with my mom the day before and having a hard time getting her scream and the panic in her eyes out of my head.
I didn’t sleep much that night, and all I wanted to do was get out on the field and bury those feelings with aggression.
Instead, I took them out on you, and I’m so fucking sorry. ”
Her eyes search mine, tears spilling over her cheeks. “That’s why you were upset?”
“Yes, and I know I should have said something, but I just…I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to divulge that sort of information.”
“Oh my God,” she whispers as she cups my face with both hands. “I…I’m so sorry, Graydon.”
“For what?”
“For…” More tears. “For pushing you that morning and not just letting you be. I should have recognized your pain and listened to you.”
“You didn’t know.”
“That still…it’s no excuse.” She shakes her head. “I have this annoying need to fix everything and fix it right then and there. And that’s what I was trying to do, I was trying to help you, when in reality, you just needed space. I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you the one who’s apologizing, Maple?” I ask as I run my fingers over her bare skin.
“Because I shut you down that day and blocked you out of my life when you needed an understanding heart instead. That’s so…that’s so fucked up of me.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Don’t do that. You didn’t know.”
“I know, but I should have noticed something was bothering you. Instead, I blamed it on my insecurities.” She leans in close, her forehead rubbing against mine. “I’m so sorry I did that to you, and then you felt the need to make it up to me and paint that mural and—”
I cut her off, pressing my mouth to hers and slipping my hand to the back of her head. She parts her lips for mine, and I open my mouth to kiss her, letting myself fall into the comfort of her hold on me, letting all my worries and anger pour out of me as I cling to hope. To joy.
After a few seconds, I pull away and allow my racing heart to steady.
“I shouldn’t have treated you like that,” I say. “There’s no excuse great enough to warrant that behavior, and I know it. Please don’t offer me excuses.”
Her teeth pull on her bottom lip as she nods. “I understand, but I still feel awful that you were going through something so traumatic and going through it alone, and I just…I missed it.”
“It’s not like I’ve been an open book, Maple.”
“I know.” She sighs and then tucks her head in the crook of my neck again, curling up on my lap and holding on to me tightly. “Maybe you can tell me a little bit about her if you want.”
A small smile peeks past my lips because I honestly can’t remember the last time I talked about her, and having this outlet, this person in my life who I can open up to about something that I’ve been holding in for so long, is amazing. It’s like she broke the dam and I’m pouring everything out.
“She was, is…was, I guess, since she’s not the same woman anymore.
” I rest my hand on Maple’s hip and drag my fingers leisurely over her warm skin.
“She was the kind of mom involved in everything, and I know a lot of it was because my dad was so absent playing football that she overcompensated for it. But thinking back, it meant everything that she was there for me. I didn’t have that person who showed up for me in my life after her accident. I was practically raised by a nanny.”
“That’s awful.”
“It wasn’t too terrible. It was better than dealing with my dad.”
“Was he…was he abusive to you?” she asks, her voice shaky.
“Not physically. Mentally and emotionally, yeah. Fucked with my head a lot. By the time my mom had the accident, they were already divorced, and I was living with her, so I had to move in with him. I was a wet blanket to his single life.”
“How did he fuck with your head?”
I feel myself tense before saying, “When I was in college, he had no problem pursuing the same girls I was. Would always flirt right in front of me when he was still with my mom when I was younger, just…a total and utter asshole. I don’t…
I don’t really want to get into it, but the day that I punched him at training camp, it was because he was talking to you in a way that I did not appreciate one bit. ”
“Oh, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “He’s a dick, and I hate him. The only reason he’s in my life right now is because he falsifies this father-son relationship to the press, especially at the beginning of the season. It’s all for media and clout.”
“That’s so messed up.”
I pause for a moment, taking a breath, because I can’t remember the last time I actually talked this much.
“There are times when I wish he was the one with the brain injury. The guy who played football—it just seems like it was supposed to be him, but instead, it was her. She was so vibrant, so full of life, would try anything and never shy away from a challenge. She was resilient and believed in doing the right thing, even if it caused you hurt and pain.”
“Is that why you visit her every week?” Her thumb strokes my pec.