“Fine. I just want to get her upto Toronto to get her set up at the hospital, but I want to at least make surethat she’s all set up for, you know…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, as if he’sless-than-interested. “So when will you be back?”
“The 28th. If you needanything, though, feel free to call my cell.”
“Okay, Deb. Thanks for settingeverything up.” He hangs up.
“Lucky that she got into thatstudy in time,” I say.
“I guess,” Tad says.
“I’m sure that’s got to be a lotfor her to deal with right now,” I say, hoping he’ll reconsider his dismissiveattitude toward her situation.
“Life’s tough,” he says. “Debra’sa tough girl, though. She’ll get through this.”
He seems more concerned about hisPR than about Debra’s sick mother. And considering he didn’t exactly wish Debraluck or inquire further, it doesn’t sound like he cares all that much about whoDebra is outside of his life. It makes me question Tad’s selfishness. Havethose around him been so concerned about his pain that he’s forgotten how tosympathize with others?
Although, considering the DivisionPlayoff is this Saturday, he must be stressed as fuck. The Cowboys beat out theGiants in their division while we were in Kauai, but they just barely made itthrough Wild Card Weekend this past weekend—even against the sixth seed team inthe NFC. Mally hasn’t been going easy on them because of it. I’m sure,considering everything Tad’s been through, he’s worried that he’s the reasonthey didn’t perform as well. Or at the very least, the reason his teammates areusing to explain the struggle.
That in mind, I’m sure he didn’tmean to sound as dismissive as he did toward Debra’s mother.
Thirty-Nine
Tad
I lie beside Bryce in the hotel bed.
After Debra called, we started watchinga teen slasher film on TV. Watching movies like this together is one of thethings I really look forward to these days. At least it’s not watching films ofother teams. Or our team. Or my fuck-ups.
Our next big game is this Saturday,and it’s kept me on edge all week. Fortunately, these moments with Bryce giveme a chance to escape the pressure. To escape the stress. He makes it easy todisappear into these experiences and to forget my football life, despite howmuch time it takes up. It reminds me of the time I spent with Jordan and how Iwould dream of a life outside of the game. How I would imagine that I couldleave it all behind and never look back. Of course, Jordan showed me what astupid fantasy that was to have. To give up my life…the only life I everknew…for someone who I thought loved me back. Maybe I’m being just as stupid asI imagine the same thing with Bryce. Regardless, I can’t deny that, despite mysuccess, it would be nice to live a real life—one where I didn’t feel like Ihad to constantly work my ass off to please coaches, teammates, sponsors, andfans. One where I could really be me. It’s an elusive dream, something that hasescaped me ever since I first felt like I had to hide who I really was fromKiernan.
“Where the fuck does she thinkshe’s going?” Bryce asks as he fishes chopsticks into a box of rice.
“That’s where she found the deadbody earlier, I think.”
“And she knows that meanssomething why?”
“Something that crazy gypsy ladytold her about a curse. Aren’t you paying any attention to this?”
“Oh, the gypsy. That’s right. Howsilly of me. And of course, we should totally trust the crazy, gypsy cat-lady,”he says with a smile before devouring a mouthful of General Tso chicken.
I gaze into his eyes. He appearsrelaxed, like he’s actually enjoying the evening, and even though my body isspent from drills today and I have to get up bright and early for practice,knowing that I get to come back to this makes it so much easier. I like knowingthat I get to be wrapped in his arms, watching some crappy movie. Even if it’sjust for a little while.
Being with Bryce is all thatmatters.
He sets the plastic container ofGeneral Tso chicken down between us and leans to me, offering a kiss. Soft.Sensual.
Though we’ve been having thissecret meetup and he hasn’t withheld his feelings from me, there’s the constantquestion with each kiss of what this can become…how long we can keep this up.And can it ever be something more?
My cell buzzes, and I retrieve itfrom the nightstand. A text from Darren.
“What is it?” Bryce asks.
“Darren wants to review myschedule for the week.” I sigh. “God, I don’t want this to end,” I say, poutingas I turn to Bryce.
I wonder if he gets that I don’tjust mean this moment, but our time together.
I like to think his sad expressionsuggests that he wants this to keep on going just as much as I do, but am Ijust kidding myself? Am I allowing myself to feel more for him than he couldpossibly feel for me? It’s one thing to like each other. It’s another thing tomake a commitment that I can’t take back.
