Chapter 6 #2
“She had a late performance last night, and another one tonight. I wasn’t going to call her right before she got on stage to say I fucked my shoulder up.
” My mom winces at my cursing. “I texted her right before surgery, and she was going into rehearsal. She has a few busy days ahead of her; she doesn’t need to worry about my sorry ass. ”
Theo groans, lifting his hat off his head to run his hands through his air. “God, you’re a stubborn mule.”
“What’s that, grandpa?”
“Alright, you two,” my mom says firmly. “Lukas, I’m going to make you a snack plate. You need to rest, we can talk about this later.” She crosses the few paces to the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to my head. “I’ll be checking on you.”
Theo stands in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, waiting until my mom leaves. We listen to her steps trail down the wooden stairs, and I silently count each echo until she hits the hall, her steps fading away.
I look back at Theo. His expression has formed from our usually teasing nature to something else. Something sad.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn. “I don’t need you to pity me.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t pity you, dude. But I am sorry.”
I turn my head again to look out the window. “Sorry for what? That I only made it three pitiful years into my dream before I fucked it all up?”
“You don’t know it’s over. It’s just a break.”
I ignore Theo, keeping my head turned toward the window. The movement forces me to look over my right arm, to the sling that’s itching the back of my neck.
That’s what everyone says.
It’s not over.
Take the time to heal.
We’ll get you back in tip-top shape.
Yadda yadda yadda.
I could see it in the eyes of the surgeon when he met me in post-op.
The tear was worse than expected. He didn’t get to go in and sew a clean tear back together, no.
He had to sort through a mess of cartilage and piece me back together like Humpty Fucking Dumpty.
I can have hope, sure. But you can hold hope in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up faster.
Theo eventually gets the hint. I can faintly see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. But I’m starting to feel tired again, so I let my eyes drift shut.
I don’t know how long I doze. When I open my eyes, the room is dark, the light of the moon barely peeking through the window.
I turn my head, my muscles stiff from lying in the same position for so long.
My shoulder screams, and I reach for the two pain pills my mom set next to my bed.
I pop them in my mouth, then reach for the glass of water, downing it in one drink.
I set it down next to the plate of toast, crackers, protein bars, and grapes my mom left for me.
Ignoring the food, I turn my head again, staring out at the dark night, at the shadows of the trees dancing against my pale walls until my lids grow heavy.
I spend the next day or so like that, drifting in and out of consciousness, unsure of the time. Unsure if I’m actually sleeping, really, or living in a lucid state, a nightmare of sorts.
My thoughts are littered with clips of that game, of the ache in my shoulder that I felt early on, and the thought that I should have said something.
Should have spoken up, taken myself out of the game, but I was too high on the adrenaline, too high on the cheers from the crowd.
I wanted that victory so bad, and I wanted to be the one to hand it over to my team.
I relive the pitch, and the gut-churning tear I felt. The weight of my arm as it fell to my side, useless.
When I open my eyes, the sky is gray, and I can’t tell if it’s early morning or evening time.
I force myself out of bed, stumbling down the hall to the bathroom as silently as I can.
It’s not that I don’t want to see my family, but seeing them means seeing the pitiful looks on their faces.
The last thing I need right now is to have to comfort someone else.
I don’t bother turning on the lights as I use the bathroom. I half-ass brush my teeth and splash my face with tepid water, hoping it’ll snap some of the numbness out of me.
When it doesn’t, I return to my room, quickly shutting the door before anyone hears I’m awake.
I grimace as I sit on the side of my bed, reaching a trembling hand out to grab the single white pill from the nightstand.
I pop it, forcing a dry swallow, not needing to bother with the glass of water or sports drink that’s set out for me.
“You need to eat something,” my mom whispers as she pretends to busy herself by adjusting the sheets. “I’m worried, Lukas.”
“I’m not hungry,” I bite out, but when I open my eyes, the room is pitch black. My mom is nowhere to be seen.
I reach my arm out, my fumbling hand reaching for another little white pill.
My fingertips bump it, and it falls—the tinging ping taunting me as it rattles onto the wooden floorboards.
I prop myself up on my good elbow, peering over the side of the bed, looking around the floor for my savior.
I spy it a few feet away, nestled against the foot of my dresser, but can’t muster the energy to get my pathetic ass out of bed to grab it. So, I lie back down.
The hinges of my bedroom door creak as they open, and quiet rage fills my veins at whoever it is not knocking first.
“I said, I wasn’t hungry,” I bark, not bothering to open my eyes.
The soft swish of a bag hits the floor. The crack of toes as someone softly pads across my bedroom floor.
I squeeze my eyes shut, feel the burn of tears as they gather.
I can smell her before I see her, cherry blossom perfume wafts up from the foot of the bed as she circles to my good side.
“Mags?” I croak out, terrified to open my eyes in case this is nothing but a drug-induced dream.
The dip as she kneels on the bed tugs at the blankets, and I feel it against my skin. I know it’s real. Through blurred vision, I open my eyes as she crawls in next to me.
“I’m here, baby.” Her soft, slender frame lies next to me, perfectly tucking herself to my side. Her arm grazes across the pillow, coming around my head so she can pull me to her.
“Mags,” I croak again, burying my head into her chest. I press my face to her baggy sweater, letting it hide the tears that dare to fall from my eyes.
She pulls me tighter, raking her fingers through the sides of my hair, squeezing me as gently as she can. I wish I could hold her, wish I could pull her underneath me so tightly it fuses our bodies together. “Let it out, baby, I’m here.”
My bottom lip quivers, and I inhale a sharp breath.
She presses her lips to the top of my head, and I feel the moment her body relaxes into mine.
The tension that had been gripping my limbs, my lungs, finally starts to let up, and it’s enough that I can finally let go.
“It’s over…” My voice cracks at the confession.
The true realization that my dream has been shattered hits me.
“You don’t know it’s over yet. It’s just a setback.”
I shake my head against her chest. “It’s over, I can feel it.
” Something deep inside me knows that I’ll never make it back on the field.
Maybe if I hadn’t ignored it for so long.
If I hadn’t tried to play tough, to convince myself that I was too young for an injury like this.
I could see it on Coach’s face. He says he wants me back, and maybe he truly does, but it doesn’t matter how much he wants it, how badly I want it, my arm is truly and royally fucked. “I’ve lost it all.”
The dam breaks, and I feel the first sob choke from my throat.
Magnolia pulls me tighter, cooing softly against my head as I let it all out.
I cry quietly into her as she holds me, her strong grip grounding me.
We lie like that, our legs entwined until my tears run dry, until my eyelids grow heavy, and I heave in that last shuddering breath, giving into the exhaustion.