Waiting on the Sidelines (34 page)

“I’ll pick you up early tomorrow, OK?” my dad kissed my head while my mom helped gather my bag of belongings. I cringed as I saw her good dress, cut in two in a plastic bag. But she picked my chin up and smiled.

“It’s just a dress,” she smiled. “It gives me an excuse to buy a new one.”

I just squeezed her hand again. Not really wanting to spend the night here in my loaner gown from the hospital, my mom worked her persuasive magic and talked one of the nurses into giving me a set of old scrubs. They were maroon, but at least they weren’t open in the back, a step up from the gown I was wearing now.

My parents left and I stood in the hallway by Reed’s room holding my phone wearing flip flops my mom bought at the gift shop. I couldn’t seem to get my legs to move, so I just listened as Buck explained he would be back tomorrow and he would drive Reed to Millie’s house. Millie had left just minutes before; I missed her, which was probably lucky as I’m sure somehow what happened has only made me a step lower in her eyes.

Buck stopped in the hall as he left, looking down at his phone and then pausing as he got closer to me, looking up and giving me a soft smile. “Nolan, sweetheart,” he gave me a big hug and I started shaking. “Shhhhhhh, it’s ok. He’s going to be just fine. He’s strong, my boy.”

He gave me a wink and said he’d see me in the morning and I started to slide to his room. I barely made it around the corner, silent, and I saw his face, still blank. He was looking out the window at nothing. I slid closer, setting my phone on his small table and then pulling the wooden chair over to his head side of the bed. I curled my body up into the tiny chair and reached for his left hand, his right one buried under a slick, white cast. His entire right arm was held up with bars and chains, and he looked so uncomfortable.

He didn’t turn to me right away, and his hand felt weak. When he finally looked at me, I could tell his eyes were puffy. I ran my fingers down his face, leaning forward to kiss his head. “Hey,” I smiled, faintly.

“Hey,” he said back, biting his lip a little, still pained. He was squeezing my hand more now. “You’re ok,” he let out his lungs, his mouth falling into a hard straight line.

“I’m ok,” I swallowed, looking at his body, which was not OK. “Does it… hurt?” I motioned to his arm.

He turned slowly to look at it for several minutes before speaking. “Yeah, it hurts,” he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, distracted.

He finally turned his head back to me, blinking a little, his eyes looking tired. “I’m staying,” I said. I just wanted him to know so he could relax, and it seemed to help a little. “I refused to leave,” I smiled.

He gave me a flat smile, his lips tight. The lines formed on his brow; he was thinking. I reached for his water cup and brought it to him, but he just turned and shrugged it off. Finally, he spoke.

“She was texting,” he sighed. I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I just shrugged, not understanding. “The driver of the other car. She was texting. She came in our lane, so fast. I swerved and we hit the highway marker. And a cactus, I guess.”

He seemed to be far away, replaying the accident in his mind. I just brushed his head and tried to get him to rest.

“My dad’s pressing charges,” he said flatly, turning back to the window. A few minutes later, he was asleep. I watched him breathe until the sun was up, and finally I slept for an hour or two myself.

My dad picked me up just as Buck was arriving to get Reed settled and ready to go to Millie’s. The two fathers shook hands, Buck putting his hand on my dad’s back, almost a hug. I could tell they respected each other and were some comfort to one another, and it made me feel glad amid all of this bad stuff.

Reed had managed to eat a small breakfast, and was talking more this morning. But he still seemed off. I kissed him, but our parting felt empty. It felt like a routine, or an obligation on his part. And suddenly the deep bruising on my ribs wasn’t the only internal injury I was nursing.

Ten weeks. That meant five games. Reed wouldn’t suit up for his senior homecoming match up, and there was a chance the Bears wouldn’t make the playoffs unless Kyle, Reed’s back-up, could pull off a miracle. He had only thrown the ball in a few games, and only when they were blow outs.

Reed had been back at his dad’s house for almost two days, and I still hadn’t seen him. He had called me the night he got home, but said he was going to bed early, tired and trying to get things settled. He promised to make it up to me yesterday, but then the entire day came and went without a single phone call.

His texts and phone calls to me grew less and less while he was at his mother’s house. I tried to keep it in the rational box that told me he was dealing with this life-changing trauma, and fear that he wouldn’t be the same. And I knew that mostly that’s what it was. But I couldn’t seem to equal out how he could be shutting me out now when I had so much to offer. I could be his rock, and wanted to be so desperately. I couldn’t help but think that his mother’s opinion of me wasn’t at play just a little, either.

I drove to campus for volleyball workouts and stopped on my way into the gym to peer out at the football field. I saw Reed’s profile standing next to his coach on the sidelines. He was talking to him and pointing at things while Kyle was working passing drills. Kyle wasn’t Reed, and that was clear from even this far away. But he wasn’t bad.

Heading into the women’s locker room, I let my mind get carried away, wondering if Reed would be waiting for me after practice, or if he even realized I was here. I was navigating unknown territory, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Reed was distant, but he still told me he loved me and spoke sweetly, when he spoke.

When I led the freshmen through running drills up and down the stairs, my mind flashed back to the first time I locked eyes with Reed as he flung open the heavy metal doors to the gym lobby. Those doors remained tightly closed each time we ran by today, but I still expected to see him standing there every time I passed through anyhow.

When practice was over, I packed up my gym bag slowly, letting everyone leave before me. I even thought about taking a quick shower before I left, something I had only done two or three times ever. But I knew I was just stalling. I was so afraid of walking out that door and seeing the dark lights over the football field and Reed long gone. He was driving Buck’s raised Ram truck, waiting on the settlement from the accident to see what they could do about his Jeep. I willed that truck to appear in my mind and held on to the hope that it would.

When I finally walked through the gym lobby and let the warm desert evening air hit my face I shut my eyes for a moment, not wanting to know if he was there or gone. When I opened them and saw him sitting on the wall, I felt my lungs fill with air for the first time in days. His hat was backwards, his hair a little longer than normal and tucked behind his ears, curling out from the bill of his hat. He was wearing his long basketball shorts, Nike sandals and my favorite gray T-shirt; his cast, which now boasted a few signatures, was resting on his leg.

I bit my lip a little as I walked over to him slowly. I was nervous, like I was just now introducing myself to this guy who knew me so intimately. It was strange, and I missed the comfort we used to have.

“Hey, you,” I said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

“Hey, yourself,” he smiled faintly, reaching his hand up to take mine and sliding off the wall. He moved into me and kissed me softly. “I missed you.”

I could still see the shimmer in his eye, but it was faded, worn. He seemed tired. Reed walked me silently over to my car, and I felt my hand sweating in his, something that had never happened before. The closer we got to my car, the more worried I was becoming, afraid that the next words from his lips were going to be to break up with me. I was so lost in these thoughts that when he finally did speak, I jumped a little.

“Thought maybe we could get some dinner?” he held my door open for me. “Maybe you could follow me home and then drive? It’s kind of uncomfortable for me.”

I could see that, there wasn’t really a good place to rest his cast, and it looked so heavy. “Of course, I’m starving!” I smiled, trying to hide my worry.

He kissed me again, softly, and shut my door for me and I waited for him to back out to follow him home.

I struggled for something to say the entire trip to MicNic’s. Reed seemed lost in his own thoughts, too. My mind was racing and fighting against the thoughts of our relationship ending, sick with anticipation that his next words would be telling me that we had to move on, apart.

Things were quiet over dinner as well. We sat across from one another in a booth, but at least now we had our food to keep our mouths busy. I let my eyes take in Reed’s cast finally, slightly ashamed of staring at this glaring symbol of his weakness. Sean had written his name and football number on the cast and so had a couple of the other guys, but there was a signature closer to the inside that I was having a hard time making out.

“That’s nice, some of the guys signed your cast?” I said, almost timidly.

“Oh, yeah,” he just shrugged. I wondered if he’d want me to sign it, or if that was even something you offered to do in a situation like this. I felt like a third grader.

He was picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat a little when his cast rotated and I was finally able to see the names hidden on the inside. Tatum. And Calley. I wanted to throw up right here all over the table. I could feel my heart speed up, and I was pretty sure rage was starting to brew in my toes and crawl up my legs. I had to be cool, because things were not good between us, and I didn’t want to make them worse. But this? This wasn’t ok.

“Uh,…” I stalled, looking for the right words, crooking my mouth to the side and taking a deep breath. Reed just looked at me, shaking his head and wondering what I was going to say. “I’m sorry… but… did Calley and Tatum sign your cast?”

I was being so careful, and I hated that I was acting like this. Almost afraid of him, afraid of making him mad. But inside I was screaming.

Reed rolled the cast a little and looked at it and just shrugged a bit. “Oh, yeah. They were both at my mom’s when I got back from the hospital, volunteering for one of her things. Whatever,” he said as if it was no big deal.

No big deal. Perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe I was making it a big deal in my own mind. Except, he had to know that of all names he could walk around wearing for two and a half months, these were possibly the only two that could break my heart, if only just a little. Instead of confronting him, though, I just swallowed my emotions and tucked them back deep down inside and plastered on my fake smile.

The first few weeks of school went about the same. Reed and I saw each other in the hall and in the two classes we had together. We held hands and he kissed my lips lightly when we parted. But there was no depth. It was as if we were characters in a play, carrying out our parts for a rehearsal, but saving the real emotion. I just didn’t know exactly what we were saving it for.

Reed wasn’t the only one to blame. I was just as much of a zombie as he was, allowing him to ignore me until he had to come face-to-face with me, pretending that it wasn’t bothering me. I just went on with my days and then sat awake until the late hours of the night watching my phone, each night thinking he would call. And then he didn’t. I didn’t either, though.

We texted the few times we had plans, but that was it. Even his texts were shorter. I still signed mine with XXOO, but his were just short one-word answers or times when we should meet. And we hadn’t met, outside of school, for days.

Reed was spending most of his free time watching tapes with coach and working with Kyle. The team managed to win their first two games, though it was close. Our big test would be Friday when we played Southern Christian. I knew that this game was consuming Reed, and I also knew that he was counting down until the day he was able to take the cast off and work on his strength. The doctors had told him that he might be able to throw in the play-offs if we made them, but that he’d probably miss the entire regular season. His arm just wouldn’t be ready in time.

I stayed late after volleyball practice just to watch Reed work with Kyle on Thursday night. Kyle was picking things up, and Reed was actually a pretty good coach. But I could see his frustration. When Kyle ran back to the field to work out with some of the other guys, Reed stayed at the sidelines and sat on the trainer’s table, his feet kicking a little while he looked down at his phone. I watched him push his phone to his ear and then he jumped from the table and began pacing. He was rubbing his head and swearing a little. Then I heard him clearly.

“Fuck!” he screamed, pushing the giant water chest from the table and knocking down rows of cups, kicking at them as they fell. He shoved his phone back down into his pocket and just stood there, staring at the ground and the mess he’d made. Frozen, I wasn’t sure if I should go help him, comfort him or pretend I hadn’t seen him crack.

He was picking up the cups and kicking ice chips around when I finally got close enough for him to hear me.

“You ok?” I said, nervous.

His eyes shot up to me and then he just looked back down. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he was short.

I couldn’t play this game with him anymore. “You don’t look fine,” I stood, my hands on my hips. “How about you talk to me? Let me help.”

I started to help him clean up the table and he continued in silence. When he reached for the chest, I took it from him and put it the rest of the way on the table. The act seemed to irritate him, though, and he shrugged me off.

“Just … just don’t, Nolan,” his brow was bunched together, like I had offended him.

“Sorry…” then I rethought my words, feeling braver. “I was just trying to help, Reed. You won’t let me fucking help.”

I turned to leave, starting to feel the anger brew in my tummy once again. I was sure I was going to make it all the way to my car without a protest from him, but he surprised me, stopping me before I was more than a few steps away.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he sighed. I turned and just looked at him.

“What’s going on?” I pleaded.

He let out a heavy breath and looked back out to the field where his team was practicing without him. Finally, he spoke. “Most of the schools are pulling their offers,” he finally admitted. I had feared this.

“Oh Reed,” I went up to him and put my arms around him, but he still stood limp in my hold. “I’m sorry. I know this sucks.”

I didn’t want to patronize him. He didn’t need that. He looked up at me finally and I saw a faint smile on his lips, but it quickly disappeared. He looked back down at his feet before talking again. “I still have Stanford and UofA,” he said. “So I guess that’s good.”

I thought maybe now would be a good time to let him know I applied, too, just to make him feel less alone. “You know, I wasn’t going to tell you until I knew for sure, but I applied to those, too,” I bit my lip, anxious for his reaction. When he finally did look up, though, it wasn’t the expression I had expected to see on his face. Instead, he looked concerned and baffled.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, sharply.

A little dumbfounded, I stood there looking at my hands as I wrung them together before I could answer him finally. “I uh… I don’t know, I like their programs, too, and thought I would keep my options open? Thought maybe it would be cool if we went to the same school?” I couldn’t believe I had to explain this. What did he mean, why would I do that?

“Oh, yeah. I guess that’d be pretty cool,” he was flat. I fought against my tears and turned so he couldn’t see me when I wiped my eyes a little and managed to get my emotions in check. I was about to ask him if he wanted a ride home when he interrupted my inner debate with myself.

“Well, I’m going to go talk things over with coach. We’re going to go through some other tapes tonight, work on my game plan to keep the scouts interested. I’ll probably be pretty late,” he smiled, tight lips, just waiting for me to give him his out, which of course I would.

“Oh, ok. That’s fine, I have a lot of homework,” I lied. I didn’t have a thing to do. Just like every other night, I would go home and sit on the porch, look out at the stars and let my mind get carried away with horrible, negative thoughts.

He leaned in and kissed me then whispered, “Thanks for talking.” He turned and walked away and I headed back to my car wondering when we’d actually start talking for real. Or if he ever would.

Friday’s game was a disaster. Kyle threw four interceptions and the Bears lost 41-7. I could tell Reed was pissed from my view in the stands. His dad was pissed, too, but still so much more approachable. When I was leaving the stands, I stopped to talk to Buck, hoping he might give me a glimmer of something to hold onto. Per usual, he pulled me into a giant hug and warmed my heart as only he could.

“Reed’s having a tough time,” I grimaced.

He just put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up to look in his eyes. “Hey, no getting down, you hear?” he insisted. “Reed will get through this. He’s a fighter.”

I wanted to believe him, I did. But it felt like Reed was losing the fight, and in the process, I was losing Reed.