Chapter Eighteen
Harrison
When I woke up after the surgery to fix my leg, the doctor talked a lot about rehab and new treatments and therapies that could help me.
But he didn’t say anything about football.
I exchanged a nervous glance with my dad.
Dad, Mom, and Candy, my girlfriend, were in the room with me.
Candy looked a little bored and was examining her manicure, but Dad and Mom were being very supportive, of course.
“When can I play football again? Or at least get back to practice?”
The doctor winced. He literally winced. “Harrison, I don’t like being the one to have to tell you this. But your days of playing football are behind you.”
My mouth opened to say something, but no sound came out.
“You can’t be serious,” Dad said. “You mean he’s done for the season, right?”
The doctor shook his head. “You’re welcome to get other opinions, but my personal assessment is that your football career is completely over. Son, you’ll be lucky to walk without a limp even after all the therapy and rehab you’re going to have to go through.”
We all stared at him.
“You mean he won’t be in the NFL?” Candy asked, looking as if she might be sick.
“In my opinion, he’ll be lucky to play football in the backyard. There’s no way he’ll play at a professional level.”
“So that’s a no?” Candy stood up.
“That’s a no,” the doctor nodded.
I barely registered Candy’s look of horror as I tried to process what the doctor was saying.
Since early on in my high school football career, I had planned to play football at the professional level.
I didn’t have a backup plan. I wasn’t able to comprehend life without football.
I looked at my parents. “Mom? Dad? This can’t be true, right? ”
Dad came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Your leg was broken in three places. They had to put a steel rod in just to be able to repair the damage. And it’s the same leg you broke in high school. We can get another opinion, or ten other opinions, but I think the doctor’s right. I’m so sorry.”
Mom started crying softly and collapsed into the nearest chair.
I felt strangely calm, almost as if I was watching all of this happen from somewhere outside my body.
“You’re going to need a lot of help when you first go home,” the doctor had said. “I would urge you to take a leave of absence from school and go home where your parents can take care of you. You can start physical therapy at home, then continue it at Carruthers once you return to school.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” I’d said, foolishly. I’d looked at Candy, not comprehending that she’d turned an odd shade of green. “I can go back to school now. Candy can help me.”
I had been remembering the time in high school when I’d broken this leg the first time. Sadie had been amazing. She’d come over every day after school to give my mom a break from
looking after me. She’d read to me, cooked and cleaned, helped me to and from the restroom—whatever I’d needed. Then when I got back to school, she’d helped carry my things around until I got used to the crutches. I didn’t realize how rare that was until Candy’s reaction.
“Me?” she’d almost shrieked. “You want me to help you?” She made a face. “Like, with what?”
The doctor had described, in detail, the kinds of things I wouldn’t be able to do on my own for a while. She’d laughed. She’d actually laughed.
“Oh, no. There’s no way I can do any of that. You’re going to need your parents. I, um, probably need to get out of here anyway. I’ve got class, you know? I should get back to campus.”
I had frowned, thinking that she’d never shown a huge interest in class before. A few days later, when my parents went to clear out my things from the frat house and bring them home, they’d reported that none of Candy’s things had been there.
I’d found out about a month later that she was dating Carruthers’ star running back. She’d never officially broken up with me or even said goodbye. She was just… gone.
It further solidified what an absolute idiot I had been when it came to Sadie.
My parents weren’t exactly surprised, either. “Good riddance,” my mother had said. “I hate to rub salt in your wounds, dear, but you made a very poor choice in dating that girl.”
“I still can’t believe you let Sadie get away,” my dad had said.
“Yeah,” I’d said, looking out my bedroom window. “Me neither.”