Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Titan
Three and a half weeks into rehab and I’m already over this shit…
not getting healthy or doing what needed to be done to get back on the field.
I understood that part. What I was over was the process.
I was over hearing words like progress and recovery.
I was over people celebrating the fact that I could raise my arm a few degrees higher than I could last week.
I was over spending my mornings in rehabilitation rooms while the rest of my teammates prepared for games.
I was tired of people telling me to trust the process while the season kept moving without me.
Every week I was sitting in a rehabilitation room was another week I wasn’t doing what I got paid to do.
Don stood a few feet away while I questioned why a resistance band had somehow become the most important part of my day.
Three weeks ago, I was catching touchdown passes in front of seventy thousand people.
Today I was standing inside the Cannons’ training facility preparing to spend the next hour doing exercises that looked simple until it was time to actually do them.
“One more set.”
I looked at him before glancing at the band attached to the cable machine.
“Damn, how many one more sets you gone have me do?” I hissed.
“As many as you need to do to get back where you need to be,” he countered.
I shook my head and grabbed the handle, anyway.
The exercise itself wasn’t difficult. The frustrating part was how much concentration it required.
Every repetition forced me to think about things I’d never paid attention to before.
Shoulder position. Range of motion. Whether another muscle group was compensating for what hadn’t fully returned yet.
Football had always been second nature. Rehab made me think about every movement, and I hated this shit.
By the tenth rep, I’d had enough. I released the handle and stepped away from the machine, grabbing my water bottle before Don could tell me to keep going.
My shoulder wasn’t bothering me nearly as much as it had during the first week, but that wasn’t the point.
Three and a half weeks into rehab and every day felt exactly the same.
Everybody kept talking about how much progress I’ve made while I kept looking at everything I still couldn’t do.
“You need to finish the set, Sam,” Don called out.
I took a long drink before looking over at him.
“I’m done with that shit,” I spat.
“No, you’re frustrated.”
Maybe he was right, but I wasn’t interested in having that conversation. My shoulder wasn’t hurting like it was in the beginning, and nothing felt wrong. I was simply tired of spending my mornings attached to resistance bands while the rest of the team continued preparing for games.
Don must’ve seen it on my face because he set the tablet down and folded his arms across his chest.
“If something’s wrong, say that. If it isn’t, finish the set.”
Before I could come up with another excuse, Tink pushed herself out of her chair and walked over.
She’d been quiet for most of the session, scrolling through her phone and occasionally looking up whenever Don introduced a new exercise.
By now she’d seen enough of the routine to know what most of it was supposed to look like.
“Do it again,” she demanded.
“For what?” I frowned.
“So I can see it.”
I wasn’t in the mood, but I stepped back into position, anyway. The first repetition felt no different from the previous ten. The second one had barely started before she stopped me.
“I see the problem,” she announced.
“What are you talking about?” I questioned.
Instead of answering immediately, she watched me go through the motions again. Her attention wasn’t on the exercise itself. It was on everything around it. The way my shoulder moved. The way my body adjusted. The way I was compensating without realizing it.
“You’re tightening up before you even start the movement.”
“My shoulder is fucked up, Tink. What else am I supposed to do?”
“I know your shoulder is injured, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
She stepped closer and touched the area around my shoulder blade before motioning for me to reset.
“You’re protecting it before it gets to the uncomfortable part. This side is doing more work than it needs to.”
“I was seeing the same thing,” Don co-signed.
I looked between both of them and shook my head.
Tink adjusted my stance slightly before stepping back and telling me to do it again. The change wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough to notice. The movement felt smoother… less restricted… less like my body was fighting itself through every repetition.
“There you go,” she praised as I worked through the exercise.
I worked through another rep, then another, and somewhere along the way I stopped thinking about the exercise and simply completed the set. By the time I finished, the frustration that had me ready to walk out of the room had settled considerably.
Don made a few notes on his tablet before glancing toward Tink.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” he observed.
“I should. I’m in school for it,” Tink responded with confidence.
“Well, I can tell that you’ll do great things in the field,” he complimented before he went back to update my chart while I grabbed the towel hanging from the machine and wiped my face. My shoulder still felt tight, but it felt better than it had an hour ago, which was probably the entire point.
“Cool. Since she knows what she’s doing, I’on need to come back.”
“That’s not how this works,” Don countered
“Shit, it should.” I shrugged.
“But it doesn’t.”
I tossed the towel over my shoulder and grabbed my hoodie.
“Send me the exercises and do them shits with her,” I stated.
Don finally looked up from the tablet.
“Same time Friday,” he responded.
I pulled the hoodie over my head.
“Yeah, aight,” I muttered.
“Same time on Friday, Sam,” he called out.
I started toward the door with Tink beside me, already knowing he was probably going to win that argument.
I didn’t say anything as we left the facility. I was over this shit and over everybody telling me everything would be okay. How the fuck did they know that? This was my career, not some fucking hobby. Yeah, I had a degree to fall back on, but this shit was my life.
Once we got in the car and left, Tink finally opened her mouth.
“You know overexerting yourself is only going to make it worse,” she stated, but I ignored her. “You can ignore me all you want, but the people around you are only trying to help you... not hurt you.”
I looked at her, and she was staring back at me.
“This is my fucking lively hood, Tink. This is the shit I’m creating for my legacy. It can’t be over already,” I voiced.
“Then don’t let it,” she countered, firmly.
She caressed the back of my neck, and her touch immediately relaxed me.
When we got back to my house, my mama was already there with Lani. She was in the kitchen cooking like she’s been every other day since I’ve been hurt. Outside of rehab, I’ll need to live in the gym to work all this food off me.
“What you in here cooking today?” I asked after she spoke to Tink.
“Fried pork chops, cabbage, some jasmine rice and cornbread,” she responded.
“Oh hell yeah,” I blurted, causing her to pop me in the mouth.
“Watch your mouth,” she chastised.
“Ma, this my house though.” I frowned.
“I don’t care whose house it is. I said watch your mouth,” she fussed.
Sucking my teeth, I walked out the kitchen and went into the living room where Tink and Lani were. I sat on the opposite side of Tink and stretched my arm behind her head and mushed Lani in hers.
“Ow, you jackass,” she sneered.
“Shut your crybaby ass up,” I laughed.
“Mommy! Bubby in here cursing,” she snitched, sticking her tongue out.
“Don’t make me come in there,” Mama yelled back.
“Let me move before I catch a stray,” Tink said as she tried to get up, but I held her in place.
“Nah, stay your ass right here.” I buried my face in her neck and sucked on her exposed skin, causing her to squirm.
“Yeah, stop all that by me,” Lani spat. “Bubby, Mac sent over the information for the lawyer you asked him to look into. What you need a family law lawyer for?” Her nosy ass asked.
“Damn, bro. You real life nosy. I’on pay you for that shit,” I shot back.
“We already know I’m nosy, so answer the question.” She folded her arms like that shit meant something to me.
“That shit don’t scare me. All you need to know that it’s not for me,” I insisted.
“Mhm,” she mumbled. “Anyway, Cady, you ready for graduation?” She asked changing the subject.
“I am. I know I started late, but it feels good to finally finish and see how my hard work paid off.”
That was one of the reasons I didn’t mind helping her regardless of the agreement. She took two and a half years off after graduating high school and was still determined to finish. You couldn’t be mad at that, and I wasn’t going to let her quit when she was trying.
“We should go celebrate,” Lani stated.
“Nah, y’all shouldn’t,” I interrupted. Lani had me fucked up if she thought she was going to have my girl out there on that ratchet shit.
“Boy bye. You ain’t nobody daddy.” Lani waved me off.
I leaned over and whispered in Tink’s ear. “You gone tell her, or you want me to?”
Instead of responding, she rolled her eyes and continued talking to Lani until my mama came and told us we could come eat. By the time we ate and Mama cleaned the kitchen, I was full and ready to work this shit off.