Chased Dreams (6 page)

I gave a frustrated growl and rubbed my face
again. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve heard this all before, but I just
can’t seem to get past it. I’m struggling here, Britt.”

She rubbed her thumb over the back of my
hand in a comforting gesture as she pondered what I’d said.

“Have you ever considered going to
therapy?”

I could feel the sudden tension in her hand
and I knew she was nervous about asking me this.

“Me? Therapy?” I said with a slight laugh.
“You’d have better luck getting a cat to willingly dive into
water.” I gave her a half smile, knowing she meant well. “I don’t
like getting help. I’ve never liked the idea of relying on someone
else. I know me best—so why should I look elsewhere?”

“Because you’re not Superman, Chase; and as
hard as it may be for you to hear this, I really think you might
benefit from getting some help. You just said, yourself, that
you’re struggling. I know you’re a strong person, but getting help
will only prove how smart and strong you are. It won’t make you
less so.”

I wondered if maybe she was right. True, on
the football field I never needed much help; but right now,
emotionally, I was no quarterback. I honestly didn’t know how to
let things go. I said I did, but I didn’t. I was just treading
water while burying things inside me deeper and deeper.

“You’ve been through hell, you know? You’re
life has had some pretty traumatic twists and turns,” she continued
on. “Think about all the good going to group addiction recovery did
for you. What’s different about this?”

“It wasn’t a one-on one-type situation. I
didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. I could just sit there and
listen to the others and go through the worksheets on my own. It
wasn’t like lying on a couch and spilling my guts to somebody.”

She laughed. “I don’t think they’ll actually
make you lay on a couch, honey. And I’m pretty sure if you don’t
feel like talking you won’t have to do that either.”

“So, let me get this straight. You want me
to
pay
to go sit on someone’s couch and
not
talk? I
hate to break it to you, babe, but I can do that right here, for
free.” I grinned so she’d know I was teasing her.

She yanked her hand away and slapped me in
the shoulder. “You know what I mean!”

“Hey, now!” I said raising my hands
defensively. “I thought you were a court advocate against domestic
violence—not for it!” I joked. “Besides, I’m injured here. You
don’t want to assault the lame.”

She shook her head. “
That
was lame.
Dork.”

I chuckled again, always enjoying the
opportunity to mess with her a bit. “Tell you what.” I glanced
around quickly and spied the wrappers from the burgers we’d had
last night still on the coffee table. I grabbed one and wadded it
up before holding it out to Brittney. “If you can make this wrapper
into the trashcan across the room there, I’ll go see a counselor.
But if you miss, you have to wash the dishes for a week.” I smiled,
wondering if she’d take the bait.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Apparently
you’ve forgotten—I do the dishes every day. I say if I make it, you
will see a counselor
and
massage my feet every night for a
week.”

“And if you don’t?”

She considered this for a moment. “If I
miss, then I won’t bug you about it anymore and I’ll massage
your
feet for a week. How does that sound?” Her smile
widened and made my heart rate pick up. I loved it when she was
happy. She was having fun with me, but I could tell she was taking
the challenge seriously too.

“Okay,” I readily agreed. “I’ve seen you
throw; and I’d love to have foot massages for a week. I was a
little surprised by her level of confidence, because my chances of
winning this bet were pretty high.

She plucked the wrapper out of my hand,
stood, and walked across the room, depositing it into the
trashcan.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” I said laughing.

“Oh? Did someone forget to stipulate the
rules before they called it a deal?” She sent a wink in my
direction and giggled. I could tell she was quite pleased with
herself.

“Smooth,” I replied, shaking my head as I
realized she had won. How had I managed to let that happened? I’d
made a deal with her though. I couldn’t back out now. “You can find
a counselor and make an appointment. Just make sure it’s not some
cheap crackerjack therapist out looking to make a buck. And,” I
leaned over and picked up the other wrapper, wadding it up. “If I
make this shot from here, the foot massage deal is off.” I grinned
widely, waiting to see if she’d agree.

“Okay, Mr. QB. Let’s see that great arm of
yours.”

I quickly judged the distance and aimed. I
threw it with ease, confident in my skill as it sailed through the
air directly on target until Brittney suddenly jumped in front of
the can and caught it.

“Interception!” She called out doing a
victory dance. “You may be able to do that to those silly boys you
play against, but this girl here, knows you too well.” She
sauntered off toward the kitchen. “I’ll be looking forward to that
massage tonight, babe.”

I sat dumbfounded with a big goofy grin on
my face, watching her as she left. That was definitely one thing I
loved about Brittney—Nikki too, for that matter. They were never
afraid to be themselves all the time. It was funny to me how they
were both so alike, yet so different, as well.

Reaching for the remote, I settled down
farther into the couch and sighed. It looked like I was headed for
therapy, but maybe it was a good thing. I always felt better when I
did loosen up and talk to Brittney. Maybe someone who was used to
dealing with issues like this could help me through it. After all,
it wasn’t like I wanted to be unhappy. I just needed a little help
getting some focus and choosing what direction to move in.

That seemed like half my battle right there.
I was lost. I didn’t know which way was the best way to go. Did I
try to get better with the hope that somehow a miracle would
happen? Or did I try and find something completely new for my life?
And if I did go in a new direction, what direction would that
be?

I dug my phone out of my pocket and pushed
the speed dial before lifting it to my ear.

“Well, this is a surprise! How’s my boy
doing?” Grandpa Warren’s voice came through the phone. Just hearing
it made me long for home. I’d give anything to be sitting up in the
loft right now, staring out at the view. I sobered instantly when I
realized I couldn’t even climb into the loft, right now.

“Hey, Grandpa. I’m okay. Just feeling a bit
homesick at the moment.” I missed everything about that place—my
room, working with the animals, sitting down by the creek, eating
Grandma’s good cooking, family dinners with my mom and Greg, laying
on my bed and talking to Turk. I closed my eyes and tried to
envision myself there.

“You don’t sound okay. You sound beat down.
What’s going on?” I could hear the love and concern in his
voice.

I sighed heavily. “I just got back from the
doctor. He’s worried that my fracture isn’t properly stabilized; so
they’re going back in to do some more surgery on it. I guess
they’re gonna add some plates and screws.”

He was silent for a moment before speaking.
“I’m sorry to hear that, son. I know you were hoping things weren’t
so bad, but at least they’re paying attention to details and trying
to get you healed up right. Try not to let it upset you too
much.”

“It’s hard not to. I feel like I’m going
backward instead of forward. I don’t know—everything is just
hanging. I can’t play or work—that’s money we were counting on to
survive. We needed that contract. Brittney does all right with her
domestic advocacy job, but these medical bills are piling up quick.
I have some health insurance that was still covered by the school
insurance, but my share is adding up fast. I just don’t like
throwing everything into her lap. She’s got enough to worry about
right now.”

“Chase, when I was back in the military,”
Grandpa began and I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me, knowing
he was going to launch into one of his stories that I fondly
referred to as a parable. “We got word that our unit may be called
to active duty, soon. This, of course, made me and the other guys
feel pretty nervous. True, it’s what we’d been trained for, but
training and actually being out in a war zone are two completely
different things.

“Everyday we’d fret about it—called our
family and friends, wrote letters—anything we could do to make sure
all our affairs were in order. Sometime we’d lie around for hours,
just watching the clock tick away while we waited for the call,
getting antsier with each passing moment. And then, one day it
happened.”

In spite of my earlier groaning, I held my
breath in anticipation waiting to hear where they would send him.
“What did they say?”

“Nothing. They said the orders had been
rescinded and we could stand down.”

“Huh?” Now I was confused.

“My point is that we all sat there worrying
day in and day out about something we had no control over. We
caused ourselves a bunch of unneeded agony.

“Sometimes we just have to sit back and let
the chips fall where they will, then do our best to pick them up as
we go along. Do you see what I’m saying? There’s no need to create
extra hardship on yourself.”

“Brittney thinks I need to go see a shrink,”
I said wryly.

“Talking out loud sometimes has a way of
helping to sort things out in your head. It’s different when you
can give voice to something rather than struggling with it in
silence. I think it might help you too. You’ve had a pretty rough
row to hoe lately.”

“I know,” I responded quietly. “Thanks for
letting me vent.”

“Any time, son. You know I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Chase?” he called out before I could hang
up.

“Yeah?”

“I know things are tough, but don’t forget
to count all the blessings you have in your life right now
too.”

Chapter Seven

It seemed strange that I was so nervous
walking back into the surgery center the morning of my scheduled
procedure. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t already gone through this once
before. I knew exactly what to expect this go around.

There was an older woman behind the
receptionist desk today. “Hello. May I help you?” she asked, as
Brittney and I approached.

“Hi, yes. I’m Chase Walker. I have a surgery
on my knee this morning.”

She quickly tapped her computer. “Yes, I see
you right here. You’re first in line. I’ll get you checked in and
someone will be out shortly to get you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I responded politely.
“Have a great day.”

Brittney followed me over to the chairs and
we sat down together. I leaned my crutches against the wall and
slouched in my seat, strumming my fingers anxiously against my
thigh.

After several minutes, Brittney reached over
and slapped her hand down over mine so I couldn’t move it. “Stop
it. You’re making me nervous.”

I glanced at her, surprised by her reaction.
Her beautiful face was drained of color, like she’d seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” she
replied, removing her hand and glancing away from me toward the
wall.

“Come on. It’s not ‘nothing’ or you wouldn’t
be acting this way. What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, okay?” She spoke a bit too
loudly, causing the receptionist to stare at us. She lowered her
voice immediately. “What if something bad happens? They’re putting
all these pins and plates in you. What if you never walk right
again? I mean, I know we need to try and be positive, but maybe we
should be preparing for the worst too, just in case.”

I could clearly see she was starting to
crack on me. I needed to do something to help her lighten up.
“Babe, you’re stressing more than I am and I’m the one having
surgery. What brought all this on?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just hit me
all of a sudden how serious things are for you. I wondered if this
is what our future would be like, surgery after surgery as we try
to get you back to a dream that may not even be attainable. Then, I
realized I didn’t care about any of that as long as you could still
walk—and all of a sudden I just had the horrible fear of you being
crippled for the rest of your life. It would break my heart.”

Her revelation made me sad. All this time
I’d been leaning on her for support and she’d needed someone to
lean on too. “Everything will be fine, Britt. One way or
another.”

She sighed. “I want to believe that. I hope
you’re right.”

“I am. You’ll see. Now, you may want to go
get a drink and splash some water on your face or something. If
your skin gets any whiter, I’ll need to put some sunglasses on,” I
said, hoping humor would help diffuse the situation.

She scowled at me. “Not funny.” I knew she
was upset, but I still laughed at her as she got up and headed
toward the restrooms. She returned a few minutes later looking much
better and she poked her tongue out at me as she sat down.

I laughed again. “You need me to teach you
what you can do with that tongue?”

“Oh, my. You did not just go there!” she
replied in an exasperated tone.

“So what if I did?”

“You’ve already given me that lesson, so
thanks. I’ll pass.” She folded her arms in front of her.

“But you know what they say?” I said,
leaning in close to her ear. “Practice makes perfect.”

She shifted uncomfortably and I could tell I
was getting to her.

“As I recall, you told me I was perfect the
last time we were . . . together.”

I slipped my arm around behind her, keeping
her close enough to me that she could feel my breath on her neck.
“That’s been so long ago, I can’t even remember when it was.”