“You’ve been hiding in our dorm room and playing video games whenever you’re not at a mandatory meeting. You’re even avoiding Grace,” he points out.
I glare at him, hating the way my name for her sounds coming out of his mouth. I understood her decision to go by Grace in college, but selfishly, I miss it being mine. “You don’t need to talk to me about Gracie.”
“Well, if you’re not going to talk to her, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m benched. I have to suck it up and wait until I can play next year. How I spend my time until then will be up to me. End of story.”
Coop shakes his head. “Listen. Meet with Coach and see what he’s willing to do as a compromise.”
I pick up a bag of gummy worms and tear it open, popping one in my mouth. “They seemed set on me not playing at all this season.”
Coop grabs a purple Easton Eagles baseball cap and puts it on. “Then just aim for making this season as painless as possible. I’ll do extra workouts with you to stay fresh, practice one on one, whatever you want.”
I sigh, a deep exhaustion weighing on my bones, even though I’ve done nothing but play video games for the last twelve hours. I’ve never felt this fog before, this sadness. It’s different from my anxiety…something else.
I shrug. “What’s the point? It feels like I’m working toward nothing.”
“Toward nothing? How about being a good teammate and showing the guys how to act when they go through something difficult?”
“Teammate? I dress in uniform for the hell of it at this point. I’m nothing but a glorified cheerleader every Saturday.”
I don’t feel like myself.
I don’t feel like me.
I don’tfeel, period.
“I’m going to give you one more week of this shit, DT, because I know it hurts like hell. I can’t imagine not playing every week, but football isn’t everything. So what if you’re picked a little later in the draft? Keep up this attitude much longer and it’ll bring down the whole team dynamic.”
Cooper grabs his water bottle and opens our door. Before it closes entirely, he says, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need to reassure Grace. Jess told me she’s worried about you.”
I know she’s worried about me, but it’s a sucker punch to hear it from someone else. I overhear her talking to Mom on the phone sometimes after she thinks I’m asleep, whispering things like, “I can tell he’s hurting, Janie.”
But they’re wrong. I’m not hurting, I’m numb.
I feign sleep when Gracie spends the night, watching her closely and waiting until her breaths even out. Then I alternate between staring at Gracie and blinking at the ceiling, blanketed by the darkness in the room and the darkness in my mind. In the mornings, when she points out the bags under my swollen, oversensitized eyes, I excuse them away with new allergies.
Hiding a significant amount of my misery from her takes almost all of my energy. She’s experienced enough mentally unstable men to last her a lifetime. I won’t be another one.
But some of the secret panic attacks I’ve been having aren’t normal. I can’t seem to dig myself out of my own emotional graveyard. It feels like I’m buried six feet underground, but it’s concrete above me instead of dirt.
I sigh, running my hand down my face, and open my laptop to check my personal email before I spend the rest of the night switching off between studying and gaming by myself. I start clicking through my messages and stop when I come across one from the head coach…of our rival school?
From: Gary Patrick
Subject: WVU Football
DT,
It’s been a while since we last connected during scouting season. Hope you and your mom are well. I saw the Easton coaching staff is redshirting you for the year. I’d like to speak with you about it. Call me.
-GP
Westchester Valley University
I read the email five times. Then, I read it a sixth time for good measure. I double click his email contact and start typing the number into my phone. Before I can second guess myself, I press the call button. It rings only once.
“This is GP.”
