Scott
Just got here. TTYL. Bridge’s text pinged on my phone, and I smiled knowing that she’d arrived safely in Florida.
The past month had gone by quickly. I’d been on the road, and this was her second time flying to Florida for the last set of interviews.
From the eleven hundred potential candidates, they were now down to thirty.
Out of the thirty, twelve would be picked for the first-ever program that allowed college students to enter the astronaut program early. Bridge had mentioned that NASA would still require them to get the needed post grad experience, but they’d be completing them while they were undergoing the astronaut training program.
Her being away from me was hard.
I missed her terribly.
Gone were the days when I could just call or text her on a whim and she’d respond ASAP.
She was knee deep in her classes and when her advisor told her that she qualified to go for the NASA interviews in Florida, she’d been gunning for it, preparing like a madwoman, and as much as I’d love to talk to her for more than an hour, she was just busy.
The light in front of me was red, so I sent her a quick love you and call me later text.
Missing her had become a constant weight on my chest, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
I couldn’t ask her to give up her dreams for me.
I would never put her in that position.
Loving her meant helping her reach her dreams, no matter how difficult it would be for the both of us.
Loving her meant cheering her on when she was excited to go onto the next round of interviews even when my arms ached to hold her.
I’d always been a selfish guy.
I wanted things my way.
I’d lost Kara because of that.
I occupied myself with football without considering how she would feel. I’d put her on the back burner whenever I felt like it.
I wasn’t willing to compromise my relationship with Bridge because of my greediness to be with her.
Before me, she had these dreams. And I would do everything that I could not to get in the way of her achieving all of them.
My phone chimed with another text, “You’re going with Kianna then?”
I’d been ignoring Trayton’s text for a day, but he wasn’t having it any longer. I asked Bridge about it last night, in between her classes and running last-minute errands before she flew to Florida.
She was slightly taken aback that I was actually considering taking another girl to an event, but she knew that I had no choice.
Well I had a choice.
I could choose to go stag which I’d first suggested to Trayton, but he flat-out said no. The women he asked to go with me to events also needed exposure, and it would be great for them to be photographed everywhere.
The one thing I didn’t have to explain to my girlfriend was that on any given day, I’d rather have her in my arms than no one at all.
“They have a job to do too, Scott.” She’d said after I brought it up, “Models need exposure and being in your arms would be a great way for that.”
“Is it okay with you?” I asked, willing her to say hell no.
She’d sighed and said, “No, but I don’t want to be in your agent’s way, and these women use these events for their livelihood. I don’t want anyone else in your arms either, but I understand. My mom worked with a lot of models.”
She revealed that she was jealous because what normal girl wouldn’t be, but in a way she also understood.
When Bridge gave her trust, she gave it wholly, completely, implicitly.
She never asked if I was unfaithful to her, and I never wanted to be in a position where I had to explain if I was or I wasn’t.
“She can hold my arm, but that’s it,” I said with resolve. I didn’t ever want anyone to doubt that I had a girlfriend, and if I was bringing another woman to an event, it was business-related.
Bridge laughed and said, “What if you have something on your face, she’s not allowed to touch your face?”
“No. Anything above the shoulders and below my belt is only for you.” Warmth spread through my veins. “If I have dirt on my face, she can tell me and I’ll get rid of it. I’ll tell Trayton to tell her agent so that there will be no gray areas.”
“You’re such a prude,” Bridge joked, and I could just picture the way her hazel eyes glittered in amusement and her dimples peeked out.
“I’m saving myself for you,” I’d blurted out, and hearing her laugh was music to my ears.
“Too late for that, Ice Man. So many have come before me.” She’d snorted and I couldn’t help but join her in laughter. “I gotta go, babe. I have to finish this paper before I leave.”
When she ended the call, I couldn’t help but think that yes, she was right. Many have come before her. But no one would come after her.
I’d experienced love before.
But my love for her was on another level.
For her I was willing to sacrifice.
I parked in front of the Royals’ stadium, and sent a text to my agent, Go ahead, but she can only hold my arm. I’m there for the event. Make that clear. I’m with Bridge, make that known to everyone.
If there was one thing I couldn’t make a compromise on – it was people believing that Bridge and I were over.
I could care less about what everyone thought, but it made me feel good knowing that there were no doubts that I was Bridge’s.
“You’re on a winning streak. The last game against the Giants proved that your offense can handle any pressure that comes your way. How do you think you’re going to maintain this?” Sal Ramirez, Sports News field reporter, asked.
“We’ve been practicing on how we can regulate unblocked pressure and I think it just shows how efficient our man coverage is that we can deflect the defense,” I answered, relaxing my back against the metal chair.
Today we were doing the media interviews before practice so that we could leave early for our flight to Kansas City tomorrow. Talking about football was easy. My mind replayed the games in my head as the reporters asked one question after another.
“How has your relationship with Dex Berger changed?” Jo Gracian’s blonde eyebrows moved, Inside Football’s resident news pundit was always fishing for drama.
Reporters were cool. Some of them stayed on the topic of football; others wanted to know about the drama behind the team.
“What do you mean?” I asked nonchalantly. Dex and I had reached an unusual arrangement after he had a long talk with the coaches. On the field, we practiced as teammates. Off the field, we didn’t talk to each other. That was fine with me. The less he talked, the less shit spewed out of his mouth.
“It seems that you are more tolerant of each other. He’s even said that working with you has been a learning experience,” Jo explained and the fifteen reporters in front of me waited with expectant eyes at my answer.
“We’re on the same team. We have to work together,” I said, noticing that a few reporters were looking at their phones with bewildered glances. “Everyone has to do their job so that we can win.”
I looked at the clock in the middle of the room. Five more minutes and I was out of there. Coach would come in and do his spiel.
The chatter in the room picked up and the hairs in the back of my neck started to rise.
What was going on?
The last time this happened during my interview, Marvin Thomas, veteran running back, had been involved in the biggest PED scandal that had rocked the league. He’d been a shoe-in for the Hall of Fame, but high amount of steroids during two random tests ruined that chance.
Gavin Grant, host of Talk Sports Today, raised a hand and I flexed my head, urging him to go on.
“This just came in…” I noticed the phone cameras were now raised in the air, facing me.
The door in the back of the room opened, and I eyed Marjorie, the Royals’ main publicist, chatting with Harris, who was in the back room observing the exchanges between the reporters and I. Harris was now standing and motioning for me with his hands to not make any comments.
What was going on?
“…How do you feel about your father being accused of sexual harassment?” Gavin’s voice drifted over my ears.
What?
What the fuck?
Gavin kept going, “Texas U’s President is going to be investigated for sexual harassment charges filed by a former employee.”
A dull throb started in the front of my head.
I took a deep breath in and let it out through my nose.
“Scott won’t be answering any more questions. Thank you for your time.” Marjorie stood in front of everyone, and I was ushered out of the room by Harris.
Coach Henderson met me outside and gave me a hug, “Don’t answer any more questions from the reporters. Your agent is already talking to Marjorie. We’ll handle this as a team.”
“My father?” I struggled to let the words out.
“I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this. Give yourself a few minutes before going into the training room,” he instructed, and all I wanted to do was grab my phone from the locker room and call home. I wanted to know what the hell was going on.
But we had a game tomorrow.
I needed to finish watching film.
I needed to get to practice where all my teammates were.
I needed to just deal with this bullshit later.
“Scott, son. Relax. It will be okay.” Coach patted my arm and ordered me to sit down on the chair by the side of the wall before he went inside to fend off the questions from the reporters.
This would be the perfect time to have my phone in my hand, but I had a rule.
A rule that I’d carried over to my professional career.
When I was training or at a game, my phone stayed inside my locker.
Other players had them everywhere.
For me, I was in my zone; everything else could wait til later.
Instead of heeding Coach’s advice, I sprinted towards the training room and tried to focus on what I had to do to win the game tomorrow.
“You’re overthrowing,” Patton, the assistant quarterback coach, said as I guzzled water from a bottle.
We’d been doing the drills for over an hour, and my throws weren’t getting in the hands of my receivers.
“Yeah,” I said, agreeing with him. My passes weren’t accurate and even though I kept trying, the ball felt like a thousand pounds of lead in my hands.
My footwork was off and my deliveries weren’t clean. I tried throwing the short passes, but my receivers weren’t getting the memo.
Frustration grew inside of me, and Patton called for a 2-minute break.
“We’re inside the grid,” I heard Dex’s annoying voice and it made my hackles rise.
“We haven’t talked since you got here. I don’t want to start talking now,” I said in a huffed breath. He could care less if I threw the shittiest throws. Every second string quarterback was just biding their time to be in the limelight.
“Fine.” I eyed him as he slumped on the chair beside me, “I’m just saying that this is your grid. Anything outside of it, you can deal with later.”
“What do you know?” I clenched my jaw, hating the way that he was so relaxed. I was the chill guy, I never felt pressured.
“About your father or about your throws?” He asked and I noticed for the first time that his question hid any sarcastic or offending undertones.
“Both,” I said, lowering my head with the back of my hands under my neck, my nose almost touching my right leg, trying to relieve the tightness in my head and my chest.
“Your father is being accused of harassment. The media is saying that she’s been his secretary for years.” He deadpanned, his voice free of judgment, “Your throws? Even I couldn’t make those on my worst days.”
My father’s secretary resigned last year. Stef always gave me updates about my father’s life, even when I didn’t want to hear much about him. He and I would never see eye-to-eye on football and since it was my life, we didn’t have much to talk about.
My father could be manipulative and he could be a bastard about it, but one thing he wasn’t was a cheater.
I didn’t know what the charges were that were filed against him, but I knew that there had to be an explanation.
“I know what it’s like to be accused of something. The media becomes the judge and jury without listening to the truth.” Dex’s voice sounded contemplative. I didn’t really think of why he was with us. He was a first-rounder like me. All I heard was that the Vikings were only too happy to be rid of him after his behavioral issues.
“Let’s go!” Patton clapped his hands, and I gave Dex a nod.
For the next twenty minutes, I threw the ball until my throwing arm hurt.
And past the hurt, I kept on going…and going.
I didn’t make the perfect throws.
They were off by inches, sometimes a foot.
But I kept on.
I called the plays and as I looked to the stands, I suddenly felt so tired.
My father was being accused of something. The media would become rabid monkeys against my shoulders once again.
My woman was thousands of miles away from me. I didn’t know when she would be back in my arms again.
I felt the weight of the stadium on my shoulders.
I looked around the field. My teammates waiting for my throw, the defense trying to anticipate what I was going to do.
The grid iron had been my haven for so long.
It had been the space where I could let go, and just do what I did best.
It was where I was infallible. Untouchable. Super human.
But right now, even my haven was being bombarded with the outside pressures being placed on me and the pressures I was subjecting myself to.
“What are you waiting for?” Greazy, my center, asked.
I held the ball, the god I’d served for as long as I could breathe was in my hands, and as I positioned myself to throw, I felt a strange numbness overtake my body.
I’d never had an aura on the field.
But then again, there was a first time for everything.
I heard the shouts of my teammates, but they were all muted, sounding so far, far away.
Then slowly…slowly…
I felt darkness surrounding me.
And my world changed to the color of night.