“They’re good. I didn’t say much, just that I have some things going on and needed a break. I could tell my mom wanted to ask more questions, but she didn’t. She did ask if I was coming to their anniversary party though.” The way Nate’s standing right now, hands intertwined on top of his head as he paces, emphasizes the force of his arms as they’re displayed.
“Going home might actually be good for you. It’s a much slower pace, you’ll be surrounded by your family. I think it would be beneficial for you.” Nate spending time back home in Wisconsin is probably just what his mind and body need. He needs the time, space and freedom to be able to process everything he’s going through. A quiet town in the Midwest sounds good for that.
He rubbed his fingers near the crease of his lip as he stared at me, like he’s considering what I suggested.
“Come with me.” He says it with such command, as if there’s no other answer than okay.
“What?”
“Come home with me. Come to the party.”
“Well, technically I got my own invite so I don’t really need to be your plus one.”
“So, you’re going?” He steps closer to me as we’re standing on this trail, right where the grass meets the gravel. His black sneakers kick a couple pieces up as he slowly takes another step.
An idea flashes in my head. Growing up, I loved taking road trips. Open spaces, different scenery, it was always so refreshing. Something like that might actually be good for him.
“Okay, but I have a suggestion. If you’d rather not, we don’t have to. This whole break is completely your call. We’ll do whatever you want, okay? But…what do you think about making it a road trip? It might be a good change of pace for you… a good change of scenery. Having some time to slow down. Country roads, fresh air… you know, all the stuff John Denver sings about.”
Nate lets out a deep, warm laugh at that. Using music to convince him of anything works the majority of the time.
“You really pulled out the John Denver card, didn’t you?” His head shakes back and forth at me, smiling as I wait for his reply. He nods his head towards the sidewalk for us to start walking back and I follow his lead. We walk a handful of feet before noticing there are people stopping holding their phones up and cameras, not so discreetly, and snapping pictures of him as we stroll down Main street. Nate keeps his head down as we walk, and again, I do the same. I sometimes forget that he’s technically famous. And even more so now that he had everything happen at the game yesterday.
Once we’re back in the lobby of my apartment complex, he continues.
“It’s not the worst idea. But do I want to spend eighteen hours stuck in a car with you? That’s the real question.” He smirks and I reach out to punch his bicep before he grabs my hand to stop me. We both stare at my fist in his hand and then he brings those blue irises to mine. “I’m going to catch this every time, Smalls.”
A weird heat flows through my body.
Why? Why did that just happen? Is it because of what Laura said? Is it because I saw him… uh, towel-less the other day? Didthat turn on some feminine switch and now that I know what he’s packing, it’s making me sweat? I take a big gulp before speaking again.
I perk up. “Then it’s settled. We’ll drive.”
“Yes.Iwill drive,” he corrects me, causing my middle finger to find its way in his direction.
“Nate Campbell, running back for the Tampa Knights has stepped away from the team to deal with mental health concerns.”
“Golden Boy Campbell is taking some time off from the Knights to handle some personal things. Anyone who had him on your fantasy team, sorry about your luck, looks like you just lost your running back.”
“We wish Nate Campbell well on his personal journey and the entire league will undoubtedly stand behind him and support his decision to prioritize his mental well-being. He’s a great asset to the league and to Tampa’s organization, but after Sunday’s event, he made the call himself to step away. He's expected to return to the team for the home game against Chicago. Whether or not he’ll play will likely be a game time decision.”
I’ve turned off my television. Deactivated social media. I’m holding off on communicating with anyone from the team. I know what’s out there in the press. I saw the fucking vultures with their phones and the cameras. I’m well aware that’s their job, but it doesn’t make it any less invasive. I know the narrative that everyone’s likely going to run with. “Golden boy, Nate Campbell can’t handle the pressure. He’s not the same as he was. He’s lost his spark.”
Golden boy. That fucking nickname got thrown around in high school, followed me to college, and then somehow reared its head in the league. I think people consider that a compliment, but I’ve always used it as a driving force. A nickname I despised to help me make it through the bullshit. Somehow, in my mind, it worked at motivating me. I didn’t care that anyone called me that. But now, it’s the last thing I feel like hearing.
Ever since telling Coach Aarons that I need to remove myself for a while, I’ve felt like this weight has been lifted. Albeit, a small fucking weight, but it’s something. Saying out loud to someone other than Mia that I’m struggling was just the first piece.
I haven’t had uninterrupted sleep in weeks, maybe months. But the night that Mia stayed over, I slept like a log. All my demons go to bed with me, usually wake me up in the middle of the night, and then again in the morning. They were still there when I went to bed, and when I woke up in the morning. But somehow with Mia lying next to me, it allowed me to sleep through the night for the first time in a while. I almost wish I could ask her to stay over more often.
“Where are we going?” Mia had me meet her an hour outside of Tampa in some small town with a manatee on every other billboard.
“I’m still committed to finding ways to relax you. You’re going to peacefully float down this river in an inner tube and let your mind and body relax, not thinking about a single thing having to do with football. Got it?” Mia’s been awfully bossy lately, and I have to admit, I’m a fan of this side of her. The sweet and caring Mia is who she is at her core, but these glimpses of sass and fire are something else.
We walk down to a small shore area and there are inner tubes and canoes lined up along the sand. Mia walks over to a small building and comes back wearing a giant smile.
“No rain expected. Pick a tube.”
I follow her along the sand and into the water as she stands there for a moment in ankle deep crystal water. This spring is beautiful. You can see right down to the bottom and it’s pretty shallow. Maybe waist deep for Mia if she were to walk all the way in. She lines herself up in front of a tube, ready to let herself gracefully fall backwards into it. Her hair is up and she’s wearing a denim baseball hat with a black two-piece swimsuit. We both left our clothes in the car, assuming we’ll be spending the whole day in the water before ending up right back here.
