The half-truth I tell again tastes especially rancid, but I remember quickly why I’m saying it. It’s all for Mia.
It’s a shitty double standard, but the minute I act too protective over her, all kinds of incorrect assumptions are going to be made about our relationship. Many of them will assume we’ve slept together or that we are sleeping together. They will dismiss any of her accomplishments or credentials. The fact is that she needs to find her own place in the locker room without rumors or innuendo or she’ll never be taken seriously.
“That’s good news, but just so you know, my intentions are honorable. I’m just going to ask her out. No bullshit.”
I take a deep calming breath because I really want to karate chop this fucker’s windpipe.
“I’m asking you respectfully, Samuels, to wait on that. She barely got her foot in the door. It’s a big deal for a woman to work on the training staff of any NFL team. She needs to make a good impression with no distractions or rumors.”
“You make a good point, man. I should wait.”
Maybe he’s not a complete moronic, narcissistic jackass.
“You Hurricanes really stick together.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“But remember, I called first dibs.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I didn’t mean it disrespectfully, Rush. I’m just saying I’m not going to ask her out today, but eventually I will, and I just want it on the record that I consulted you out of respect first since you know her and all.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Nah, man. I get exactly what you’re saying. Before I ask her out, I need to chill for a second. Good things come to those who wait. I got you.”
After Samuels walks away, I take one of the practice balls and kick that shit down field. He doesn’t get what I’m saying at all, or he doesn’t want to get it. I’m realizing that there are so many reasons why Mia working for the NFL, especially on my team, was one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever come up with. The shit isn’t going to be good for my health. I didn’t think this whole referring her for a job thing through, but I also had little choice in the matter.
Four years ago when Mia tore her ACL, a teammate told me during practice what happened and I almost hurled on the spot. I knew what an injury of that magnitude meant, and I knew that it would be the end of any sort of Olympic dream for Mia.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I dropped everything to the ground and started running as fast as my legs would take me to my car. It was a second-hand Honda that my dad bought me my junior year of college, but it had just as much get up and go as I imagine it had the day it was built.
I practically flew on fumes to the hospital and when I arrived Mia was already heavily sedated and on her way to surgery. Because one of the nurses recognized who I was, she let me peek in on her before they took her to surgery.
“I’m here,” I told her.
“Rush?”
“I’m here, Bird.”
Tears cascaded down the sides of her face and into her ears.
“Finally, my good luck charm is here.”
While I knew her words were said through the haze of anesthesia, they cut me to the bone.
I was her good luck charm.
She truly believed that.
And I let her down.
I’ve been trying to redeem myself ever since.
When I heard about this opening with the Hawks for a PT, I knew it was meant to be.
Another chance to redeem myself.
