Here & Now (19 page)

God, I am the king of the assholes right now.

“Nothing is gonna happen to me, pretty girl. I swear to you, and when this game is over, I’ll bring you to the doctor with me. No more secrets and no more hiding.”

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want you to be there with me.”

This seems to halt the tears and maybe even get her to lower her defenses again. She moves closer, taking my arm and wrapping it around her, laying her head just over my heart and the feel of her this way, knowing that she’s the one that made it happen does wonders for my mood.

The rough edges, the angry exterior that I’ve been displaying since I caught sight of my mom in the bar, it’s being chipped at by her and it won’t be long now before everything that happened inside fades away completely and it’s just us again.

“Are you ready to go home now?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you came with the girls and I know that there’s a part of you that’s probably still upset with me, but will you let me take you home?”

She could say no to what I’m asking right now and I would totally understand. Between the shit I kept hidden from her coupled with the way I went after my mother and her dealer not fifteen minutes ago, the last place she should want to be is with me.

Too bad that the way I see it and the way she does them are two totally different things.

“You’re the only one I ever want taking me home, Rocky.”

Rocky and Adrian. Ginger and Fred. Dillon and Cadence.

Three sets of two beings. Two people that apart mean a whole lot less then when they are together. Men made better because of the love of their women. In our case, a boy that can’t imagine existing without his girl.

His world.

“Then let’s go home.”

Cadence

He’s on edge. Even someone who knows nothing about Dillon and everything he’s been through and is going through now would be able to see this is the last place he wants to be. What they won’t see is what he’s doing his best to hide but failing at because I know it all too well.

He’s scared.

It had taken some time, but over the course of a couple of days, he managed to tell me exactly what was going on with his knee and how it happened in the first place. He still couldn’t tell me how bad it was, but with just the things he did say, I’m guessing the news we get today is not going to be good.

Dillon thinks it’s a torn ACL and because I hate not understanding things, I spent half the night awake searching it up on the internet. With the articles I read, the treatments I glossed over, it was almost like I was a little kid again, starting the search to figure out how I ended up deaf. Knowing about this, being able to go into his appointment informed, it’s going to make all the difference even if he doesn’t see it that way.

Knowledge is power and no matter what the doctor comes in and says in a few minutes, I’m going to use that knowledge I’ve picked up over the last few days and help Dillon the best way I can.

It’s not just the appointment that’s got him on edge. Even though it’s been days since it happened, I can tell the incident with his mother is still fresh in his mind. Another thing we’ve done a lot of talking about, but haven’t been able to come to an agreement on.

He wants to give up on her completely, the same way he did when he moved out, but I can’t agree. Even with all of the nasty things she’s said about me both to my face and behind my back, I still want to believe there’s a shred of the mom he had before in there somewhere.  We just need to find a way to get her out.

I’m probably wrong and he’s right when he says that I think the way I do because I care about people, but I don’t see Rebecca the same way I do Bruce. What he did to Dillon, the fights he put him through, making him go against people three times his size at times in a fight not only for monetary gain but for Dillon’s life, it was all kinds of wrong.

Rebecca’s worst crime is that instead of being there, asking the right questions and being a mom, she checked out because reality became too hard. They’re two completely different things. Bruce can’t even admit now that what he was doing then was wrong. He doesn’t want to change. For some reason I can’t explain, I think that if we could get through to his mom, she could and would.

Feeling the tap on my shoulder and looking straight up into Dillon’s eyes, crinkling at the corners due to the smile on his face, he leans in close.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Thinking too much.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” he says as he runs his hand over my leg and laughs. “Are you thinking about me this time or yourself?”

“A little of both.” I admit with a sheepish grin.

“You wanna share?”

“It’s the same stuff I’ve been worrying about for days. You know, the stuff you keep telling me I shouldn’t worry about?”

His knee requiring more than just time off it, losing his spot on the football team knowing what it means to him, possibly needing surgery and all of the things that go wrong if that’s where things end up going. It’s all worries that I’ve voiced with him since that night at the bar and he’s wasted no time shooting down. Dillon refuses to believe that the doctor is going to find anything even though just the pain alone should make him see it’s a lot worse than just a pull or a sprain.

“It doesn’t matter what he says, Caddy. We’ll deal with it and get through it.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. Are you telling me that you weren’t gonna correct me if I said it the other way?”

He’s right, I would have been on him even before he finished the sentence. It’s the way I’ve always been. He’s never going to have to face anything alone, not as long as I’m here and we’re together.

“What happens if he says you can’t play anymore?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll deal with that when he says it. If he says it.”

Dillon’s entire world before we met was football. He doesn’t even have to come out and say it, I know that if the doctor tells him that he won’t be able to play, he’s not going to handle it well. He’s already lost so much, had so much stripped and taken from him, I really hope that he doesn’t end up losing this too.

I might not like football, the violence of it and the way they all treat each other, but I do understand what it’s like to be invested in something. The last thing I want is for Dillon to lose that sense of accomplishment he gets from playing because I’m afraid if it happens, it won’t be the only thing lost.

He will be too.

Dillon

I know I need to do this, but with what the Doc just asked me, I’m starting to think bringing Caddy along might have been a mistake.

He wants to know when it happened, how it happened, what I’ve been experiencing since and while it’s all shit I expected to go through, with my girl sitting right here and me admitting all of it, there’s no way she’s not gonna be mad.

I kept this shit from her, so I deserve whatever reaction she’s gonna have, but it doesn’t mean I gotta like it. I also know how she operates and the damage that’s done; what I think it is, it’s just gonna make her worry about me and that’s the last thing she needs to be doing.

“I took a hit on the field. It happens a lot but this time it was different. I felt a snap or maybe something like a pop, and when I tried to put pressure on it, walk it off, it was wobbly. I was unstable.”

“This popping noise, it didn’t cause you concern when it happened?”

“No. Like I said, this shit happens all the time. It’s not the first time I’ve been taken down the same way and had to live with my knee giving me fits for weeks after. Sometimes it still acts up when the weather changes. I just thought it was like that.”

‘Was there tenderness or swelling?”

“Yeah. Not at first, but after I got home and got off it for a while, when I went to get up it was there. Real tender.”

“I want to try something with you. Test the mobility in your leg and based on that, send you downstairs for an X-Ray. I want to see what’s really going on here. From there, if it’s needed we can look into running an MRI, but Dillon, what troubles me most is how long you’ve been living with this.”

Yeah, well that’s expected. When you admit to a doctor that you’ve been playing through the pain, it’s sort of expected that he’s going to be upset. It must really stick in his craw having someone not give a shit about their own body.

“I did what had to be done.”

“For who? Your team? Your coach? Yourself? Who does it please having you continue to force through the pain for weeks on end with no relief?”

Great. I’ve got another person trying to be a parent. What the hell is it with these people and their mock concern?

“Look man,” I start, determined to lay it out straight even though I’m sure he won’t agree or understand. “My team. We’re dangerously close to getting somewhere this year and a lot of that blowback falls on me. I’m the one that’s gonna lead them there. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to make that happen. So yeah, I didn’t focus on my leg. I focused on what seemed more important at the time. Winning.”

Cadence has been sitting here the entire time, completely silent, the only proof she’s even awake and alert, the way her eyes move between me and the doctor the second either one of us speaks. If she’s upset by anything being said right now, she’s not letting on, which either means she’s gonna wait until later and talk to me about it, or because I’m here and doing what she wants me to, she’s gonna let it go.

Somehow I don’t see it being the latter. Cadence won’t ever let this go and I was stupid to think I’d be able to hide it from her as long as I did.

“You’re no use to yourself or that team if you’re injured to the point where even walking is a problem. I would think that hurts them more in the long run.”

Of course this is what he thinks. He’s obviously never played ball before. He may be a doctor that specializes in sports related injuries, but he definitely doesn’t understand the mindset of the player and I’m too damn tired to explain it to him.

“So what happens after I do everything you said?”

“We meet back here and discuss next steps. As I said, after going over everything I’ve learned here today along with your previous medical history and how it pertains to the injury you’re now suffering with, I may need to run an MRI in order to get a better view of what we’re dealing with.”

“What’s the worst case scenario here, Doc?”

“At best, it could be nothing more than a pulled muscle. At worst, a complete tear of the ACL which judging from the pain and other symptoms you’ve admitted to, is more likely.”

“So what does that mean long term?”

I need him to just get on with it. Spit it out and tell me if I’m gonna be able to play ball again or not. I need to know how bad he thinks this is and what I can do to fix it so I don’t lose my spot on the team or worse, lose my leg entirely.

“Surgery is an option, but I do not want to go down that road until I have tried every other available avenue. If that is where the results lead us though, you need to prepare yourself, not only physically but mentally.”

Never playing again. I don’t know how I feel about that. Other than this girl sitting next to me, the game is all I’ve ever known. It’s been my relief from the hell my dad put me through, it gave me a place to get aggression out when I felt like I was being smothered by it, and the team became the family I didn’t have when I left school every night and went home. It’s been everything for so long, I have no idea how I’m gonna deal if I don’t have it anymore.

It makes sense why he said mentally because if this turns out to be something I can’t come back from, mentally, I don’t think I’ll be alright for a long time, if ever.

If I can’t play anymore, it doesn’t matter who I have standing with me, how much they care or what they’ll do to bring me out of the funk I’d end up diving into. I’m gonna have nothing left and it won’t take long before I’m right back where I was a year ago.

Broken and alone with no way out.

Something that just can’t happen. I can’t be that person again.

Dillon

With everything I’ve had going on over the last few weeks, I’ve been putting off something that to me doesn’t mean much, but apparently to my coach means everything.

I’m not making excuses, but with my knee, the shit at the bar with my mom and then the time I’ve been spending with Cadence, before and after the surgery, class work; making sure I do well, it’s been the last thing on my mind.

Not anymore.

It’s time for me to focus and this time Isaac Crawford is gonna be coming along for the ride with me.

So nice of you to show up.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a dick about it, I can leave.”

I’m not being a dick. I’m just telling you how nice it is to see your beautiful face this early in the morning.

If the damn guy wasn’t grinning at me right now, I’d seriously question Belle’s choice in friends. He might not talk, but he sure as hell knows how to spit the sarcasm to get his point across. No doubt he’s about as thrilled to be here helping me as I am needing the help to begin with.

“Are you always this nice to the people you tutor?”

He seems to ponder this for a second, his hand still and rested on the top of the paper, the grin gone and a look of complete indifference in its place.

When they show up thirty minutes late, yes. When they’re on time and seem to want my help, no.

“I never said I didn’t want your help.”

You don’t need to say it out loud, Dillon. Ever heard of a thing called body language?

Shit, this guy just doesn’t let up. It’s also painfully apparent that he thinks I’m an idiot. Well I’m not gonna let that fly. This is one myth I’m definitely gonna dispel.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

You prefer acting like an ape, puffing your chest out and trying to prove your masculinity by tossing a ball around, to actually paying attention in class.

Yep, he most definitely thinks I’m an idiot. And even though I don’t exactly like the picture he painted of me, there’s no denying its accuracy. 

“Fine, you caught me. I’m a meathead.” I admit, making sure to throw in the name that Belle and him have labelled all of the guys on the football team with since she started here.

I would never dream of calling you that, but if the shoe fits, please feel free to wear it and continue.

The shit slinging he’s doing, this would have seriously pissed me off before, but coming from him and the innocent look he wears while he’s doing it, I can’t do anything but laugh and admit that I was wrong about him.

I questioned his ability to do this when the professor dropped it on me and now I’m eating my damn words. This isn’t going to be like a trip to dentist after all. It’s so funny to me that I wonder what the hell I was thinking putting it off as long as I did.

“Alright, you’ve made fun of me enough. So you think you can save my ass here?”

Despite what you think, you’re not the worst person I’ve tutored. I can definitely work with you.

“Really?”

The last person I tutored hadn’t taken notes or handed in any of the assignments the entire time they’ve been here. We’re talking about months of work. He was about to be thrown out on his butt and I was his last hope. Trust me, you’re gonna be a walk in the park. You at least did the work, even if it sucked.

“Do you ever stop riding people?” I ask, laughing when he shrugs and his head angles back toward the paper in front of him.

Do you know what you want to do with your life when you leave here or are you one of those guys that’s here for the parties?

“I haven’t been to a party since I got here. Not since high school really, unless you consider hanging out with Kayden and Belle a party.”

For the first time since I got here, he smiles in a way that doesn’t feel superior or forced and it’s easy to say why. Ever since the shit a few months ago, Belle and him have become even more inseparable, and Kayden in the few times that we’ve talked about the guy, seems to like hanging out with him too.

From what I’ve heard about him just talking to those two since I started rooming with them, it seems like they’re the first real friends he’s had. I’d perk up and smile too if the roles were reversed.

Every day with Belle is a party and since I know you’re staying with them, you should know this.

I can’t argue with that. Pretty sure Kayden wouldn’t either.

“What you asked about knowing what I want to do. I think you know my answer already. I wanna play pro ball.”

And if that doesn’t work out? What is Dillon Murphy’s fall back option?

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” I answer truthfully. All I can see in my future is football and Cadence. Looking any further past that, it’s all a blank slate just waiting to be filled up. It’s half the reason my courses here are all over the place. It’s not leading me to anything.

Can I offer some advice?

“Is it advice you think I need to take based on my performance in class?”

No.
He writes with a shake of his head before picking up the pen and writing across the page again.
Your performance in class is like I said, not bad. It’s just a personal observation.

“Well man, I’m all ears.”

Sports Medicine. I know you’re gonna laugh or scoff and think I’m joking, but I’m serious. With the way you feel about sports and everything Kayden and Belle have told me about your love specifically for football, it would be a good fit.

I’ve never noticed it before, but sitting here with Isaac, watching over his shoulder while he writes me, it’s like I’m having a conversation with someone my mom’s age, but without the scattered remnants of her brain throwing me off.

If I didn’t know he was my age and he didn’t look it by the look of his baby face, I’d say he was pushing at least thirty with the way he talks to me, even when he’s being a smartass.

Where with most adults I want to block the sound of their voices out whenever they start with me, it’s the opposite with him. I actually like the way he thinks.

Sports medicine isn’t that much of a long shot for me and if the shit with my knee doesn’t improve or I’ve gotta go under the knife, it might be something to look into.

“What about just being a trainer? Do you think I’ve got that in me?”

It doesn’t matter what I think you can accomplish. The better question is if you think you’ve got it in you. So, do you?

Other than the times when Sarah sat me down to talk, I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before. My dad didn’t give a shit about what I did in school as long as I showed up for his fights, and my mom spent more time in bed nursing her high then she did giving two shits what I was off doing with my life. I don’t even know this guy and he seems to care more about me then the both of them combined.

“I guess I’ll find out after you get through with me, huh?”

Wrong answer that is.

As he starts to scribble out the sentence, I reach over and stop him. It’s the first real mistake I’ve seen him make since I got here and there’s no way I’m gonna let him erase it. if this is gonna work, we’ve got to get on a level and there’s no better place to start doing that then in the spot we are now.

Both flawed and capable of making mistakes.

“Alright, Yoda. If that’s the wrong answer, then why don’t you tell me what the right one is?”

Cracking a smile, he focuses his attention on the paper and starts writing again, reminding me of a year ago when I sat in a room kind of the same as this one waiting for Cadence to do the same damn thing.

I’ve really come full circle because back then she wouldn’t speak to me either.

“I can do any damn thing I want.” That is the appropriate response and by the time we’re done here, it will be. I guarantee it. Maybe when you retire from the NFL, you’ll look back, remember this conversation and find yourself as a trainer.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

You just called me Yoda. Are you telling me you didn’t expect it?

“Point taken. So you think we can get down to business?”

We can do that, but on one condition.

“Name it, Crawford.”

He smiles at me before using one hand to cover what he’s scribbling across the page with the other before handing it over.

You remember to thank Yoda when you get drafted into the NFL.

“Deal.”

Cadence

It’s been days since we went to see the doctor and not once in that time have we talked about everything we learned since. We’ve learned the severity of the injury he sustained on the field and the available options for him going ahead, but actually sitting down and discussing them, it hasn’t happened.

I can’t say I didn’t expect it. What Dillon is facing, it’s a lot, but if the roles were reversed and they have been, especially about my implant surgery, he would want me to talk about it and that’s what I want with him now.

For him to open up, tell me what he’s thinking, what way he’s leaning and just let me in. I know that in the end the decision he makes is his alone, but he’s never had a problem bringing things to me before, so having him be so silent now is a little disconcerting.

Sometimes, I wish I was a mind reader. That I could just place my hands on his forehead like the mutants do in the movies and pull out string after string of thought, so I could know where his mind is.

Surgery isn’t something to take lightly. No one knows that better than me. No one knows how much thought goes into making a decision like that and even if you’re the toughest person in the world, how scary it can be because there’s never any real guarantee that it’s going to work out okay.

It took me three times of making the decision and letting fear win out before I finally felt strong enough to go through with it. Had something motivate me enough to want to take the risk even knowing that in the end it could change nothing.

That’s what Dillon is dealing with now and despite my best attempt at leaving it alone since we settled in like we always do to watch movies, I can’t do it anymore. Even if I can’t get him to admit everything that he’s thinking, I want to at least get an idea of where he’s at and how he’s coping and if there’s anything I can do to help.

All I want to do is help the same way he did with me when I went through this weeks ago.

“Dill?”

Stirring from his spot at the sound of his name, he shifts and turns toward me, leveling me with a smile.

“Yeah baby?”

“Can we talk?”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is, kind of.”

“Considering this movie is so boring that I’m having a hard time staying awake, I’m up for some serious talking. What’s on your mind?”

The movie he’s referring to is
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
. It’s one I’ve seen before, mainly because of all the movie nights with my mom before I met him, but one that even now, I can agree with his assessment about. He’s not the only one having a hard time staying awake and it’s got nothing to do with being tired. It’s just boring.

“I’ve been thinking about what the doctor said.”

There’s a moment where I feel him tense, but instead of letting it stop me, I just take note of it and keep going.

“I’m wondering if you’ve made a decision.”

“Well, there’s really only two options, right? I mean I can continue to swallow the pain and keep playing the way I have been, or I can do what he said and go through with the surgery, no matter what the risks are.”

He got the results of his tests back two days prior and wasted no time making sure I knew what the worst case scenario was. What he would be looking at if he did what the doctor suggested.

Dillon has done a lot of damage to the ligaments in his knee. From what the doctor explained to him, it predated the hit he took on the field, but it was that incident that tipped him off to something being wrong. They want him to have surgery because from what I was told, he stands a better chance of being able to play again in the future if he does, where if he waits, he doesn’t.

To me, hearing all of that, it seems like the choice is easy, but as much as I want to be the one to make this call, I can’t be. Giving an opinion, going over all of the information we’re given and making an informed decision one way or the other, we can do that for each other, but not the actual follow through. That’s up to the person that has to go through it.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Always, you know that.”

“I know that there’s a risk involved with the surgery and that there might be too much damage to repair fully, but I think you should do it.”

“And if I do that right now, I screw the entire team over.”

“Aren’t you screwing them over more by playing the way you have been? Aren’t you more of a liability?”

I don’t understand how football works. I do understand how important it is to him and how alive he seems when he’s on the field, but anything past that, it’s all a mystery. But I have to believe that playing injured would be worse for the entire team in the long run then pulling himself out and getting himself well.