Without Ma’s calming presence, the walls of the waiting room close in on me. The smell of disinfectant permeates my nose. Memories of the pungent odor terrify me, sweeping me back to a time and place I wish I could forget.
Oh, the irony.
I can’t smell Rob. I can’t feel Rob. I can’t see Rob.
I’m on my own to fight this irrational fear, which is only compounded by my worry. Is this how Rob felt all those years ago?
Double irony. Irony everywhere.
There’s no one here to talk me down from my personal ledge. When we left the stadium, there were still three minutes and forty-five seconds until halftime.
Alex and Mike are at the game. My family couldn’t make it in this week because Papou’s been sick. Mallory probably doesn’t even know what happened. She never watches football.
Jess and Alyssa have been texting me non-stop, but it’s not the same. They’re hundreds of miles away at their own universities.
I don’t have any updates to give them, anyway.
The television in the waiting room is tuned to an infomercial for copper socks that improve circulation. The few people huddled in hard plastic chairs aren’t interested enough to watch. My mind vacillates between wanting to change the channel to see the current score and never wanting to watch football again.
My feet itch with the urge to run to take my mind off everything, but even pacing is prohibited in this dangerous place, where I’m surrounded by strangers. Instead, I remain glued in my seat, keeping an eye on the other occupants of the room.
At one time in my life, I might have imagined what brought them to the ER as a way to pass the time and keep my mind away from the worst-case scenarios which plague me.
Now, though?
The older guy slumped over in his chair hacks his lungs up every few minutes. He’s dirty from head to toe, potentially homeless if his battered shoes are any indication. From across the mostly empty room, I can’t smell him, but I’ve no doubt his aroma would be pungent. The old urge to offer him a cup of coffee or a sandwich has been replaced by distrust. Every time his pale blue eyes land on me, a shiver runs down my spine.
I’m not wondering if he has pneumonia, when his last meal was, or if he’s waiting on a friend. I’m wondering what’s going through his mind when he looks at me. Does he see easy prey? Would he follow me to the dark hall where the restrooms are located?
Would he want money…or something more?
The softly sobbing blonde who has her face buried in her hands proceeds with her fifth round of uglier, louder crying. She bears no visible injury, and her clothes are as stylish as I used to wear last year. We might be the same age, but it’s hard to tell because the few glimpses of her face I’ve had show more mascara tracks and smeared lipstick than skin. Her slight shoulders shake, and she hiccups a few times, calming down until she’ll inevitably work herself up again.
I could comfort her, but I don’t know why she’s here. Does she have a sick child who’s being treated? Did she bring in a friend who was assaulted?
Occasionally, she shoots me a dirty look, which dampens any desire on my part to ask her if there’s anything I can do for her.
The final straw in my decision to stay away comes when she straightens herself, revealing a Falls jersey.
No wonder she’s giving me the evil eye. His super fans hate me.
I glance around the waiting room to see if any more of the “Falls Fanatics,” as they’re called on campus, have followed Rob to the hospital. The blonde seems to be the most devoted follower because no one else here wears a number six jersey. Except me.
Movement on the periphery of my vision startles me, but a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette prompts me to jump out of my seat, barely restraining myself from bowling him over.
“How is he?”
Mr. Falls gestures at me to wait while he barks into his phone. “I don’t care if the Pope himself signed off on it! I want them down…now!”
His poisoned voice isn’t a new experience, but the absolute steel of his expression as he fixes his gaze on me hasn’t been an issue since senior year of high school.
I didn’t imagine this was going to be easy, but I also didn’t know I wouldn’t have time to prepare myself for the inevitable tongue-lashing.
Or that Rob wouldn’t be by my side for it.
Mr. Falls disconnects his call. “Would you care to explain yourself?”
I know exactly what he’s referring to, but that’s the least of my worries. “How’s Rob? Has he regained consciousness?”
Mr. Falls pins me down with a hard stare that would make me crumble under any other circumstance. “My son is no longer your concern. You may go.”
Anger pulses in my veins, evaporating all other emotions. “I’m not some dog you can dismiss. And I’m not going anywhere until I know how he is.”
“You want to know how he is?” Mr. Falls crosses his arms over his chest, never releasing his precious cell, as he strikes a stance meant to intimidate. “He has a grade three concussion. He’ll be forced to miss the next two to three games at the least. He’s going to lose time in the weight room, on the field, and potential draft interest…thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me? I’m not the one who delivered an illegal helmet-to-helmet hit on him.”
“Anyone could see he was distracted today. His head wasn’t in the game. Otherwise, he’d have seen the safety coming at him and gotten clear, as he’s been trained to do. But, no. Instead of concentrating on winning, my son was embarrassed that your disfigured tits are on display for everyone in the world to see!”
There aren’t many people in the waiting room to overhear his outburst, but nonetheless, I feel their eyes boring into my back. A million worries plagued me when I agreed to do that photo shoot, but the thought my boyfriend’s father would ever see the pictures never entered my mind.
His gaze drops to my chest, and he frowns like he’s holding back vomit.
“You have no idea how Rob feels about it,” I hiss. “He’s never been embarrassed of me before. He’s seen them and always been supportive. In fact, you were so thrilled with his Heisman nomination, you didn’t even care the media focused more on my assault than on Rob’s stats. You had no problems when we approached you about setting up the Sing Out foundation last year, so you have no right to judge me for this now.”
Rob’s dad chuckles, and finally drags his cold eyes back to my face. “That was before you posed nude for what is quite possibly the most unflattering photo shoot I’ve ever seen.”
The anxiety I’ve been facing over those pictures going public boils over. I throw my arms up in the air, since my days of hiding are long expired. There’s no point in trying not to draw attention to our conversation. “So, what you’re saying is, if I’d been approached by Playboy and looked like a centerfold, you’d be okay with it?”
“Of course. But you don’t. And now everyone knows it.”
“You’re disgusting.” My heart pounds in my chest, and I clench my fists, staving off the urge to commit violence. “That article was tasteful and never meant to pass as pornography. The whole point was to draw attention to the issues your son is such a champion of.”
He shakes his head as if I’m the one being ridiculous. “Rob is young and naïve. Which is why everything gets cleared through me. He’s not capable of handling decisions that will affect his career for years to come. His job is to play ball, and I handle the rest. I’ll admit you helped him gain followers and media coverage, but that time has passed. You’re nothing more than a liability now, and today only proves it.”
“You act like I went behind Rob’s back! He knew about the shoot! He was there the entire time!”
“Again, proof that young people, such as yourselves, lack the capacity to comprehend the future ramifications of their actions. Rob might have been there when you posed for another man, but I’m entirely certain he didn’t realize how it would make him feel for every man in the country to see his girlfriend spread out for their viewing pleasure. Or disgust, as the case may be. He’s likely the laughing stock of every quarterback in the NCAA who has a Playboy centerfold to warm his bed.”
My entire body quakes with rage. “The photographer was a woman. A fellow survivor of assault. And your son has gotten far more pleasure than disgust from my body.”
The smirk on Mr. Falls’ face brings bile up my throat. “And while I’m sure that was a great tension reliever for him at times, there’s plenty of more worthy women lined up to take your place. Ones that won’t bleed him dry for sympathy, make him lose focus, and only stick around for the inevitable paycheck. Once he gets drafted, you’ll be left behind in the past where you belong, and I’ll make sure no other service provider gets near his millions…or his beloved Mustang.”
I can’t believe my ears. As if The Lady even matters. “I love Rob. He’s the best man I know. I’m not with him for the money. Not then, not now, not ever.”
“No?” Mr. Falls sneers at me. “Then what is it you want? Fame? A bigger platform for your twisted feminist agendas? Do you hold some deep-seeded resentment toward Rob for not preventing what happened to you after all? Are you purposely trying to destroy his career since he let another man destroy your body?”
All the fire in me evaporates. The image of one of the most detestable men I’ve ever known swims before me. No matter how many times I swallow, no words get past the lump in my throat.
Mr. Falls looms over me, using my moment of weakness to his advantage. “If you really love him, as you claim, then you’ll walk away. Give him a chance to do what he was born to do. He’s never going to make it with you constantly dragging him down.”
Satisfied with having the last word, he spins on his heel, returning into the treatment area I was prevented from entering when Rob’s parents and I first arrived.
Without meeting the undoubted stares of the people in the waiting room, I flee the hospital.
Block after block I run, trying to silence the small part of my mind that believes everything Mr. Falls said.
I love Rob.
Rob loves me.
We’re a team.
I want you; I need you; I love you.
That’s our fight song.
Together, we’ve promised each other over and over again.
That’s our team motto.
By the time I reach our apartment, my clothes are soaked with sweat, though I can’t stop shivering. In the silence, the chattering of my teeth grates on my already raw nerves. Leaving the lights off, I make my way to the bedroom, nearly tripping over Patch and Felix, who circle my ankles as if they know I don’t want to be alone.
If you really love him, as you claim, then you’ll walk away.
I turn the shower on full blast in an effort to block out the noise of my mind.
Posing for that photo shoot had felt like letting go of the last weight that kept me down. With no more secrets to hide, I was finally free.
As the small bathroom fills with steam, I swipe my hand across the foggy mirror, focusing on my scarred breasts.
“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” Rob had said when I told him of Julie’s offer. “As long as you’re doing it for yourself. Not for anyone else. I support you, not what the rest of the world wants from you.”
I trace the jagged lines surrounding my nipple on the mirror’s surface. Rob has never shied away from touching me, never once shuddered as his hands and tongue loved my broken body.
But, what if his father is right?
Rob asks me to marry him every other day, still calls me Mrs. Falls, tells me I’m beautiful, that he loves me, needs me, wants me.
He’s never been inside me.
What if he can’t cross that invisible line because, deep down, he knows this can’t last? He’s been swimming in his own guilt for so long. Will my selfish decision to bare my scars to the world be the thing that drowns him?
Have I freed myself only to chain him to the one thing he blames himself for?
Rob Falls isn’t disgusted by me.
But, he may very well be disgusted by what others now see.
And it has nothing to do with me at all.
It’s that Rob is disgusted by himself. Like Alex once explained, I’m a constant reminder of his biggest failure. And now the whole world knows. They don’t know my secret; they know his.
I step under the spray, wishing water could wash away all that defiles me.
That makes me less.
…more worthy women…
…you constantly dragging him down…
A scream tears out of my throat, but still I hear his words.
…bleed him dry…
…dragging him down…
I plaster my hands over my ears, but it’s no use.
It’s no longer Gary Falls’ hateful voice I hear in my mind, but my own.
I turn off the water, then go through the motions of drying and dressing in the dark bedroom.
On autopilot, I wrap myself in Rob’s old high school jersey. I don’t bother to climb in bed. Assuming Mr. Falls told me the truth, Rob won’t be released from the hospital tonight, not if he has a grade three concussion.
He never regained consciousness on the field…
I sit on the couch and gaze at the spot where our Christmas tree will go up in a few days. Always at the beginning of November, much earlier than most people’s. Rob loves Christmas…
The wall clock in the kitchen ticks away the minutes of my silent vigil. My bleary eyes blink in confusion when I bother to check the time. Dawn will arrive soon.
I awake to the sound of the door slamming closed, looking around me in confusion.
Before I can make sense of my surroundings or protect myself, Rob’s harsh voice cuts through my panic.
“No one will ever keep you from me again.”
He stands in the doorway, his breathing harsh and ragged, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. No one accompanies him. Not his mother, not his father. No coach, trainer, or teammate in sight.
It’s just us.
I glance down at my lap when I notice the unfamiliar weight and warmth there.
Patch is curled up into a ball, blinking at me as if she was aroused from slumber as well.
Beside me, Felix stretches and yawns, seemingly unperturbed by Rob’s sudden arrival.
I fell asleep on the couch. I didn’t wake up in the closet.
Sure, I didn’t fall asleep until the sun came up, but still…
I blink again at Rob.
Rob.
Why is Rob here?
With quick strides, he makes his way to me, pulling me up and wrapping his arms around me. He takes deep, shuddering breaths against my hair. “If he’s so goddamn worried about money, then I’ll take it out of the equation. Let him choke on that.”
“Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
He pulls back to gaze at me, confusion written all over his face. “Why would I still be at the hospital?”
Did I hallucinate everything I remember from yesterday? “Your dad said you had a grade three concussion. You’re going to miss games, practices, drop lower on the draft list…”
Rob grows visibly angrier, his muscles trembling. “What else did he tell you?”
“Um…”
He grits his jaw. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. When I asked where you were, he said he told you to go home. Mom went to look for you in the waiting room, but you were already gone. I overheard one of his many phone conversations. Some bullshit about the photo shoot and getting rid of my money-hungry jersey chaser.”
Oh, God. It’s one thing for him to say those things to me. How many other people in the industry is he running his mouth to?
“I begged Mom to come check on you, but she wouldn’t leave me. She didn’t hear the shit coming out of his mouth, though. And I wasn’t about to bring it up with him around. He’s not going to know what hit him.”
My mind’s reeling. Maybe Rob should still be at the hospital. He’s not making any sense.
“Why are you here?”
He cups my face in his big hands. “Baby, it’s a mild concussion. They kept me overnight for observation as a precaution. And they don’t grade them anymore. I was conscious when they took me off the field, but they already had me strapped down, so I couldn’t signal you. My cognitive function was back to normal before they discharged me this morning. I’m fine. I’ll be back at practice in no time. Until then, we’re going to take care of my father once and for all.”
Curiosity overrides my depression over Mr. Falls’ legitimate concerns. One thing I’m sure of: that man has the potential to wreck Rob’s career as much as anyone. And I’ll do anything to protect him from that. “What’s the plan, Superjock?”
“Marry me.”
“What?” I brush a shaky hand across his forehead. “No, that’s just the concussion talking. Maybe we should go back to the hospital.”
Rob takes my hands in his, then drops to one knee. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I don’t have a ring, yet, but I love you more than anything. Let me protect you. Let me love you. I promise I’ll give you the world if you’ll just say yes.”
Of all the ways I imagined this moment, the look of desperation in Rob’s eyes was never part of the fantasy. “Not like this, Rob. You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours; your emotions are running high. Let’s take some time and think this through.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t need to think, but I do want more time. With you. This was going to happen anyway, we’re just moving up the timeline a bit. I already asked Papou for your hand. He gave us his blessing.”
“You…” The words stick in my throat as my heart pounds. “You talked to Papou already? When?”
“He said yes years ago, but I called him on my way home. He agreed to keep it quiet until we can get everything sorted out.”
A sob wells in my chest. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Every little girl dreams of a pretty ring, a wedding where her friends and family will be there with well-wishes for a new beginning. The dress, the flowers, the candles, the first dance all vanish before my eyes. I love the man who’s on his knee before me, but I can’t help but feel he’s making a deal to keep me from the devil rather than to keep me by his side.
Rob rises from the floor, brushing moisture from my face with his large hands. “Baby? What’s wrong? You don’t want to marry me anymore? You don’t want to be Mrs. Falls? I can be Mr. Papageorgiou if you want.”
A tense laugh escapes my mouth. “If you’re worried about your dad making trouble, changing your name probably isn’t the way to go. That’ll only make him angrier.”
“Fuck. Him.” Rob wraps me in his arms, cradling my face to his chest. “It’s me and you. That’s all I care about. And he isn’t going to be angry until it’s too late. That’s why we’re going to keep this on the down low for now, just until all the pieces fall into place.”
“Rob…” I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t want to have him under these pretenses, either.
“I can’t do this alone,” he whispers. “I don’t want to do this alone. Help me help us. Just say yes, Evie. Say you’ll be my wife. You already are on everything but paper.”
How can I possibly say no to that?