Chapter 42
Johnson
It’s been three days since I was discharged from the hospital, and I’m finally starting to feel the fog from my concussion clear. Luckily the worst of the headache-like pain stopped yesterday too—my head still aches, but the sharp pain is gone.
However, I’m nowhere near ready to play football, as much as I’d like to. And now there’s only two days until the next game. I’m going to miss it.
Shit. I’m so pissed off when I think about it.
But I have to try to keep myself relaxed. During my check-up today, the doctor said elevating my blood pressure could slow down my recovery.
Still, I want to show up for my guys in whatever way I can. And when I ask, the doctor reluctantly gives me permission to visit the locker room for an hour tomorrow as long as I take it easy.
The next day, when I get to the facility, I comply with his instructions. One of the trainers escorts me around, in case I start feeling dizzy or foggy.
“Let’s keep you to the position rooms,” he says, referencing the smaller meeting rooms dedicated to each role. “The locker room might feel like too much stimuli.”
I nod, and we begin by stopping by the quarterback room.
“Hey, man,” my back-up, Tony, says as soon as I walk in. “Great to see you up and around.”
I pull a smile across my face. “Appreciate you guys holding it down until I’m back. I know you got that win handled tomorrow.”
He stands up and shakes my hand. “We do. You take care of yourself right now.”
We chat a short bit longer and then I excuse myself so I can stop by the wide receiver and offensive line rooms. There’s a festive environment in the latter, as it’s Halloween and someone decorated the room in orange and black.
The hour goes quick, and the guys seem genuinely relieved to see me.
Carter walks me out of the lineman’s room after I wrap it up. “That was great, J. It’ll ease some nerves to know that you’re on the mend.”
“I hate not being able to play tomorrow, but if I can help even a little bit, I’m glad.”
He runs his hand over his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry to bring this up, but I apologize for telling Landon on the field about you and Grace. You kept saying her name, and he was getting agitated. Plus, I knew you’d want her to be able to see you.”
“Yeah, no worries, I get it.”
“Is he still pissed?”
My face sinks. “We haven’t even had a chance to talk, because I’ve been totally out of it and I’m not allowed to use electronics. But he gave Grace an earful on Monday.”
“J, you need to fix that. I mean, get better please, but also—fix that shit. Somehow it hasn’t leaked out onto the team yet. It could be poison if they know you’re fighting.”
I shut my eyes. “I know. As soon as I can, I’ll try to make it right.”
“I’m sorry to even make it a thing during your recovery,” Carter says with some remorse.
“It’s all good. I know it’s coming from the right place.”
We say our goodbyes as the trainer points to his wrist at an imaginary watch, like my time is up.
“Just one more quick stop to talk to Coach Houston.” He nods reluctantly—not much he can say to the franchise quarterback wanting to see the head coach.
This part of the visit is the hardest. Coach deserves to know what’s going on with Landon and me, as much as it’s going to suck to share it with him. And honestly, I need an advice session.
The trainer knocks on the door for me. “Come in,” Coach calls.
“Hey, it’s me.” I walk in and he stands up.
“Johnson, so good to see you up and about. How are you doing?”
“I’m alright, Coach. Better every day.” I sit down in my usual armchair.
“Good, son, good.” He sits back down. “We’re going to miss you out there tomorrow, but the first step is for you to recover.”
“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to see what week I can get healed up and the doctors clear me.”
He nods. “We’ll take care of business in the meantime.”
Anxiety starts flooding through me as I prepare myself to tell him about the possible rift I’ve created on the team.
It’s okay, I say to try to calm myself as I lean back in the chair. You're human. I replay snippets of my conversations with Mom and Grace to reassure myself.
And then I don’t let myself delay anymore.
“There’s—there’s something else though, Coach. It’s personal, but it could blow back on the team.”
His forehead crinkles. “Okay?”
“You know how Landon has a sister, Grace?” He nods.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in. “We’re dating, and it’s gotten serious. Only we didn’t tell him, and he’s pissed as hell at me.”
Coach looks surprised, then thoughtful.
“I remember Margaret saying something about you having an interest in her. You’ve done this without telling Landon?”
“It might have been obvious I liked Grace to Margaret, but yeah, we kept it all hidden. Our plan was to tell him after the season.”
He leans over his desk, crossing his arms. “Well, son, secrets have a way of coming out when you least expect it, as you’ve now learned. I don’t love that this could hurt the team dynamics.”
I maintain eye contact despite the guilt I feel for letting him down. “I promise you that’s the last thing I want. I’ll try to talk to him as soon as tomorrow’s game is over.”
“Alright. I appreciate it.” His tone is calm enough that I feel myself relax a little. This could be worse.
I feel awful asking for his advice in this circumstance, but I need it.
“What if he doesn’t forgive me? What would you do if you were me?”
He narrows his eyes, considering my question. “You’re in this for real with her? Not just screwing around?”
“I’m all in with Grace, yes, as long as she’ll have me. I—I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
He sighs. “Then I think you lay your heart on the line with him. Tell him how you feel. And with Landon, you may have to repeat it a few times, get loud. He’ll hear you eventually though, I believe.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“He’s a family guy. Like you, like me. It may take him a minute to trust you again, but if you’re doing right by his sister, he’s ultimately going to want her to be happy.”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry that I disappointed you, Coach.”
His face softens. “Johnson, we both know what you’ve survived to get here and what you do for the team, for the community. I’m not disappointed in you. You’re twenty-three and allowed to mess up here and there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But I’ll channel Margaret for a minute, because she adores Landon’s sister. Treat her right, or I’ll get a little tougher on you.”
“Yessir, I will.”
“Keep me updated on how it goes with Landon.”
With his dismissal, I say my goodbyes and let the trainer lead me out to his car, before he drives me home. The whole way, I process the fact that I told Coach and he didn’t even raise his voice at me.
It’s another reminder not to hold myself to impossible standards in silence, and instead have honest conversations with people I’m concerned about.
I just hope Landon will let me have a conversation with him.
When I walk in the door, Mom greets me, getting the Halloween candy ready for trick or treaters later. “How did it go?”
“I’m exhausted, and my head is starting to hurt again, but it went well. Can you help me with something before I crash for a nap?”
JOHNSON: Landon, I’m truly sorry you had to find out about Grace and me that way. It’s not what you think. Good luck tomorrow, and I’d like to talk after the game when you’re free.
Using my phone since I can’t, Mom types out what I ask. She makes the message a little more formal than if I’d typed it, but it gets the job done.
She puts the phone away after sending the message. “I’ll check it for you in a little bit and let you know if he responds.”
He still hasn’t when I wake up from the nap. Or when Grace gets home and we have fun greeting the neighborhood kids as they stop by for candy, while Mom and Lainie take Emma and Leo out in their costumes.
He hasn’t when we get up the next morning, or before the game begins a few hours later.
And the Waves lose. 21-10.
Only our second loss, bringing our record to 7-2, but with my concussion symptoms, my return—and our season—is in limbo.
My friendship with Landon is most definitely in limbo too.
When I ask Mom to send him another text on Wednesday, as I’m still stuck at home for my recovery while another game day approaches, it feels like I'm going crazy.
What’s the saying? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results?
That’s me.
Because the results are no different. When we go to bed Wednesday night, there’s no response back.