“Did they put Biffle in?” Everett asked.
“Yes, they sorted out the penalty stuff and then he took over. His first pass was intercepted.” I walked to the table. “You got hit so hard.”
“I didn’t see it coming.” He squinted at me. “I only heard him at the last second.”
“You got hit so hard,” I repeated. “It was awful to watch and it probably felt worse.”
“It didn’t feel great.” He moved his neck a little, and since he wasn’t wearing a brace to hold it steady, I had to imagine that it was ok to do that. “He apologized.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Self-regulation is very important!”
“Not so much in football. Damn.” He sighed. “We’re going to lose the last game.”
That was most likely true. “On a side note, this building needs more security. Anyone could have walked right in.”
“Anyone did,” he replied, and pointed at me. “Did you really come back here to check on me?”
Yes, but I felt a little strange about it now. We were only texting-friends, like I had been with one of the guys who played piccolo in the band and used to invite me over all the time to watch movies. I’d finally managed to explain that I really wasn’t much of a movie person, and I was pretty busy anyway. But he had been fun to text with, until it seemed like he had gotten mad about my lack of interest in his big TV.
“I was concerned when I saw you walking funny,” I excused myself now. “Also, the conditions weren’t good in the stands.”
“It’s a little warmer today. I think it may hit forty degrees.”
“I mean because of the company there.” That was something I had already told him about, so Everett understood. He got how much I hated Boyd but not the full story of how wrong and bad the guy was for my sister. “Are you really ok?”
“Yes. Damn, I wanted to end my tenure here with a bang. Not to my head,” he added. “I wanted to leave the Woodsmen with a good impression.”
“Are they watching?”
“They hear. The scouts keep an eye on everything, on college players, teams in Europe, us dipshits down the road.”
“I don’t think you’re a dipshit.” But he didn’t look so good at the moment. He was pale and his expression reminded me ofsomething I’d seen the first time we’d met. “Are you going to throw up?”
“No. Are you worried about your shirt?”
I hadn’t been. I’d been thinking that he might have a more severe injury than the trainer had suspected, and what were her qualifications, anyway? If they weren’t able to have a functioning golf cart or a well-equipped gym, were they able to afford real medical help? But the “trainer” came back in at that point, and she really seemed to believe that he was all right. She gave me a list of things to watch for and I realized that she, like the parka guy, thought I was there in a girlfriend/wife capacity. It was a little thrilling, actually.
“I’ll keep track of all that,” I said, nodding. “I’ll drive, too.”
“No, you don’t have to. I can get a car,” Everett said briefly, and she glanced at me.
Maybe he had been trying to clarify our relationship for her, but I thought that it didn’t really matter who I was. He needed help and I was right next to him, not his ex-wife or some other woman who might already be his girlfriend. “I don’t mind doing it. I’m here,” I told him, and the trainer cleared her throat and told us that it didn’t matter who it was, but he needed someone and no, he shouldn’t drive.
In the end, it did seem easier for me to handle things, since I was already on the premises and so was his truck. I was even allowed to pull that around into the real Woodsmen parking lot at the front of the facility, which was protected by a guard shack and a gate. From there, I walked to an entrance to the buildingthat was a lot nicer than the one at the back, painted and clear of trash, and the same parka guy met me. He led me through another pleasant Woodmen area and into the rundown, non-orange section that was meant for the Juniors.
Everett was ok to walk, although the trainer stayed at his one side and I stayed at the other as we went to the truck. I didn’t mind that she probably thought I was just some clingy interloper who had shoved her way into this situation and he was allowing it only because he had a brain injury. As my former cooperating teacher used to say to her students, “We can’t control other people, only ourselves.” My response right now was to ignore her curiosity, because this wasn’t a big deal and I didn’t care what she thought. At all. None.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said when we were on the way to his house. “What about your sister?”
“I let her know what was happening.” I had stopped at the bleachers on my way to get this truck and drive it around to the other side of the building, and the two of us had a little bit of a tiff about the situation.
“Why do you need to take care of him?” she’d demanded.
“Be careful climbing down from here and walking to the parking lot,” I had answered. I’d spoken loudly enough for Boyd to hear, even if he was staring at the sky and pretending not to notice my presence. “Go slow and watch out for rough spots on the path because your balance isn’t great and you could fall.”
“Stop it, Zoey!” Willow had wanted to say more, but I had continued on my way and I had decided not to look at my phonefor a while. It wouldn’t have been safe while I was behind the wheel of this large vehicle and she was wrong about what she was texting right now. I wasn’t trying to wedge myself into a bigger role in Everett’s life. I wasn’t imagining that this would turn into something big and important.
I wasn’t, not at all. In no way, not in the slightest.
