Falling Hard, page 12
I’m halfway to moving on. Starting this grieving process all over again would kill me. If he comes back, I’ll decide then what I need to do but until then, he’s gone in my mind. There’s no one at home to touch me, to kiss me, to eat with me, to watch TV with me, to simply talk with me—he’s gone.
Chapter 18
Aran
I’m excited and nervous, all at the same time. Nick and Jenna are on their way to pick me up this morning. The sun hasn’t even cracked the sky yet. It’s surgery day. I want to get this over with, so I can plant two feet back on the ground. Thank god. I swear this surgery date took forever to get here.
The last few days have been a whirlwind of doctor appointments: I had to get a physical, blood draws, and more x-rays. I’ve seen my doctor more than Jenna has seen hers and she’s the one having a baby.
It’s been tough on them not having Kyle to help out with me and my shit. I’ve been an extra burden on them, even though I know they would deny that fact. Turnabout is fair play; they keep reminding me of how I helped when Nick was hurt and needed countless surgeries. You do what must be done when you love someone. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
My mind keeps wondering back to those last few days with Kyle. He was supposed to take care of me tonight after this surgery. We talked about it several times, but of course, I can’t count on him now. He’s proven that he says one thing and does another. The man I want in my life doesn’t break promises. It’s really that simple. If you say you are going to do something, do it. No excuses.
He still looks tired at his games; even moreso than before. I guess the stress of classes, practices, and games is weighing on him. He still has a key to my condo. I’ve considered changing the lock several times, but something causes me to hesitate every time. One day, when I know he’s gone for sure, I’ll do it.
The nurse comes into the little room they assigned me before surgery to do a last minute mini-physical—mostly checking my vitals and making sure I’m good to go. She inserts an IV into my hand and throws the sheet covering my leg back and proceeds to write “this one” on the leg that needs the surgery.
“Is that necessary?” I ask, conveying a little concern.
“Hospital standard procedure now,” she responds. “Can’t have them opening up the wrong leg to remove hardware that isn’t there, now can we?”
The more I think about that, the more disturbing that thought actually is. It’s depressing almost. I lay here in silence and the loneliness comes creeping back in. I’ve been numb to everything these past few weeks—everything except the baby coming. That is the only event that brings a smile to my face.
Everything I see lately reminds me of what I’m missing in my life. I’m tired of feeling depressed. I don’t have a chemical imbalance; I’m simply disappointed in the road my life has taken with the recent turn of events. Better choices are out there, but I don’t seem to ever think of them when I need to. I should have said no to being his fuck buddy. I should have walked away the minute I started having feelings for him. I should have done a lot of things differently.
The new Aran starts the minute this surgery is over. My addiction to Kyle is over. My drug is gone. I’ll start rehabilitation on my ankle and him. A new mindset is coming, because I’m a damn good person, and I deserve to be happy.
The orderly comes in to move me to surgery waiting. Here we go. The door opens and I see Nick and Jenna standing there. They stretch out their hands to mine, squeezing them for moral support. Their ‘I love you’s’ echo off the neutral hospital walls as I take the first step toward the new me.
I am awake during the surgery, which only takes about thirty minutes. It’s really weird being in a surgery and hearing everything that’s going on. I think I’d prefer to be asleep, but at least I get to make sure they work on the correct leg.
Finally, I’m home and sitting in my bed. Between the surgery and the recovery time, I was only at the hospital for a few hours. Jenna stays with me, while Nick goes to fetch my prescriptions.
“I have some news for you,” she says, sitting down on the other side of the bed. She leans back and relaxes against the pillows.
“News?” I ask. “Okay. Share please.”
“We got here pretty early this morning to pick you up,” she states.
“Yeah, I know that,” I remind her.
“I swear I saw Kyle sitting in his car at the far end of the parking lot,” she confides. “He was gone by the time we came back out with you in tow.”
“What?” I shriek. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I wasn’t completely sure it was him. It was dark, and I was still a little groggy,” she says. “Nick didn’t want me to tell you. He says you’ve started to move on. Please don’t let on to him that I told you. I just don’t like to keep secrets.”
“But what does it mean?” I ask. “C’mon. Give me your tormented rocker soul advice.”
“Aran, don’t do this,” she begs.
“I just want to understand it. That’s all,” I grumble.
“Ugh. Maybe it’s not over. Or maybe he feels bad for leaving you hanging with this surgery. Maybe his sense of decency is haunting him,” she says. “I can’t begin to imagine what is going through his mind, but obviously something is bothering him. Let it go. Don’t analyze it. Move on. It’s his loss, and he knows it.”
She scoots off the bed and grabs the ice chest to refill it. She swings around to face me, pushes her hair back behind her shoulders, and says, “I know you believe in fate. We’ve talked about it a few times over the past two years. Just let it run its course. You can’t interfere with it or things might not turn out the way they are supposed to.” She winks at me and saunters off to the kitchen.
Nick returns with a take-out order of tacos from Cholita Linda’s. God, I have the best brother. I haven’t had this stuff since I left for Seattle. We all proceed to have a little picnic on my bed, talking and laughing at some of the baby names Nick has thrown out to us. “Nick, we are not naming our child Hailey Bailey,” Jenna growls, throwing her napkin at his chest.
“Hey, wait. These are all girl names. Are you having a girl and didn’t tell me?” I ask.
“Nick wants a girl, but we still don’t know the sex. I refuse to know. We get what we get,” she says.
“And I wanna get a girl. So, you better start focusing on all things girly, Mama,” he says.
“You guys are so cute. It doesn’t matter what you have. That child is going to be adorable,” I say. Right at that moment, Jenna grabs her belly and you can see her t-shirt moving. She lifts it up and her entire belly is rolling in waves. “Looks like someone is eavesdropping on our conversation.”
“Personally, I think it’s a boy. A linebacker, actually. My girl would never squirm, kick, or punch like this one does,” she howls, feeling some pain from all the movement.
“Obviously, you haven’t seen yourself on stage during a performance,” Nick teases her. She picks up a pillow and hurls it towards him.
Jenna admits to being uncomfortable now with the position of the baby, so they decide to take off after first checking that I have everything I need for the night. I pull out my Kindle and start to read a new book, but I just can’t get into it. Romance is the last thing on my mind right now. Netflix calls to me, so I watch the least romantic thing I can find—Collateral Damage with Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Something startles me awake at 2:00 AM. I half sit up in the bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes. The room is quiet and I notice that the ice chest is unhooked and missing from the floor. The TV is still on, showing that the movie has ended. Then I hear ice being dumped. That’s not the sound of the ice maker. I’m used to that noise and can block it out. This is someone dumping it and jostling it around in that little cooler. Nick wouldn’t come back in the middle of the night just to change the ice for my ankle.
It’s got to be Kyle. I lay there in silence, feigning sleep. The bedroom door pushes open quietly, and a shadow crosses over my face. There’s a slight tug on the wrapping on my leg as he re-connects the ice chest hose. Do I say his name or just let him go? I want to touch him so badly. God, I wish I could open one eye, but he’ll catch me. He reaches down and brushes a few stray hairs from my cheek. The heat from his fingers thrills me. I struggle to keep my eyelids from moving and regulate my breathing. I’m so excited he’s here.
After a few minutes, he walks out and I hear the front door close. I grab my crutches, stand, and disconnect the cooler hose. I hobble out to the living room and pull back the sheer curtains to view the parking lot. His back is facing me, shoulders slumped. He looks defeated getting into his car, but he doesn’t drive away. I watch him lower the front seat back and he leans back, like he’s resting. Is he sleeping in his car? What the fuck is going on?
I’m so confused. I go back to bed, re-connect the cooler, and turn off the TV. Lying there in the darkness, I try to figure out what’s going on and no reasonable explanation comes to mind except that he’s fulfilling his final duty to me. We always said his responsibility toward me was over after the surgery. I roll over onto my side and let the tears fall down my cheeks in torrents. Why can’t he just fix his shit and come back to me already?
A beam of sunlight streaks across my bed and directly into my eyes, telling me it’s time to get up. The only thought running through my mind is that Kyle came to take care of me in the middle of the night, confusing me more. I’m in limbo, and I hate that feeling. What happened to the strong, confident woman I used to be? It’s true, I guess. Love makes you weak and sometimes stupid.
We need to talk about us. We both need to say the things that are in our hearts and figure out if we are done or not. I’m brave enough to face him, but I won’t do it in public. I won’t humiliate us like that. Maybe he’ll come back to check on me tonight. No, he won’t come back tonight. They’re going to Oregon for a set of away games today. Shit, I forgot about that. He’s gone until Friday.
Chapter 19
Kyle
I’m so fucking tired. Sleeping in my car outside Aran’s condo every night for the past month is killing me, especially when I’m not really sleeping. I watch her door and windows all night long, dozing off every now and again. Occasionally, I go into her place and check on her after she goes to sleep, when I feel the need to see her. Lately, that feeling is getting stronger and stronger, but I have to resist.
I almost lost my scholarship thanks to our relationship. Coach Hack found out about us. Fucking gossipers and jealous motherfuckers. I swear, sometimes men are worse than women. He confronted me about it, and explained the ramifications of my actions. All I could do was own up to it, and explain the responsibility that I felt. He has forbidden me to see her while she is under contract with the university, which runs through the end of March, after tournaments.
The Oscar Robertson Trophy finalists will be announced at the end of the month. Coach believes I’m in the running, especially with the pictures that Aran has taken. My stats are rockin’. My performance has been spectacular. It’s wearing me out trying to maintain this pace, but I guess there’s plenty of time to sleep after graduation. At least I’m in the home stretch. Tournaments are in a few weeks, and then I get a break.
Luke hasn’t said a word to me about the current chaos in my life. He must know Aran and I parted ways, but he’s offered no opinion or advice. I haven’t asked him for it either. It’s my life and I need to fucking figure it out.
The one good thing I’ve got going right now is that my mom is doing well. She’s responding to this new medicine from the research study that we got her into right before Christmas break. She had an initial reaction to something at first, causing me to leave early for break. I missed getting to spend a final night with Aran, and I hate that I left without telling her where I was going, but worry for Mom consumed me. She’s stable now. Her blood work is looking better and the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is almost in remission. She might even make it to graduation.
Aran is back on both feet now. I finally saw her with her red Converse on. It’s been three weeks since her surgery—and the last time I touched her. She probably hates me. She ignores me at practices and games, going about her tasks in the gym like I’m not even there. I miss the little non-verbal queues we used to tease each other with. She made me so fucking happy. She’s the one thing I did right, and also my biggest fuck-up.
Our relationship is strictly business now, and I hate it. I can’t even talk to her about what happened. Coach is afraid she’ll cancel her contract, which she has the right to do because of my proposition. So, I stay outside her place every night, thanking the gods above that she didn’t change her lock and that her condo association doesn’t have a security guard on patrol.
Every night, I sit in the car in the peace and quiet of the night thinking and planning for my future. I’ve gone through a whole notebook trying to write out my goals and mapping a plan for my future. It’s actually an assignment for a business class that is due in March, but it’s something that I needed to do no matter what. My mom always wrote everything down, and I picked up the habit from her. The calendar in my phone would probably drive a normal person crazy.
I’ve penciled Aran into my future plans as many times as I have erased her. There’s room for her there, but I can’t ask her to go with me when I don’t even know where I’m going. So, I erase her and pawn the thought off on another day. One step forward, two steps backward is how I feel at the moment.
I came to terms with the fact that I fell in love with her weeks ago. I even told my mom about her, and that’s saying something from the man who only shares with Luke. Aran doesn’t know anything about my mom. It’s not that I’m hiding her or her illness, but I didn’t want to talk about my mom after Aran told me of her mom passing away.
I pull out my phone and open it up to my text messages. I scroll to the one Jenna sent me with the picture. It’s Aran coming out of what looks like a dressing room with a black bra and panties on. She’s absolutely, fucking magnificent. Her one eyebrow is cocked up in question. Her smile is timid. Her new blond streaks in her hair are sexy. This is why I call her Blaze. She sets my insides on fire. I read the text that came with it for the thousandth time. Don’t be an ass and toss this away. She loves you. And I know you love her. Talk to her. She’s tough as steel, but she also has a forgiving heart. Well Jenna, I’m counting on that, when the time is right.
I read the next text from Jenna from the other day, it says, “FYI…her birthday is March 17th, if you didn’t know already.” I didn’t know. So thank you. Jenna is kind and caring, and apparently she’s chosen to be my ally in this mess. I like her—she’s spunky. I can see why Nick loves her so much. It’s the kind of relationship example every kid from the streets should have. Then they wouldn’t be so fucked up like I am.
But for now, in this relationship with Aran, I need to retreat. Aran is my future, but I have to plan it first. I can’t have her living in my chaos. I just hope I meant enough to her in our little time together that she waits for me. Jenna says she loves me. I hope that’s true. I’m counting on it to get me through the next few months until graduation.
I have a thousand commitments to make it through before then.
Chapter 20
Aran
Tournaments are this week. The first game is tomorrow night. There’s a nervous excitement on campus as I enter Haas Pavilion for one of my last practice sessions with the team. My pictures of Kyle and the team are all over the entryway—blown up into large banners and Photoshopped into multiple collages on the walls. Seeing your own work on display never gets old—it’s pretty amazing. My heart swells with pride.
I have a last-minute meeting that was scheduled with Matt, the AD, and Coach Hackerman after practice. I’m a little nervous. I wonder if it has anything to do with Kyle’s second nomination for the Oscar Robertson Trophy. I wasn’t surprised when his name was announced. He’s had an amazing season, and he deserves it.
I sprint down the stairs to the gym floor. It’s so nice to be able to run, hop, skip, and jump—which is totally what I do when no one is looking. I pull my equipment out of the bag, check the zoom and shutter settings, and hang it all around my neck. I get some test shots in while I wait for Kris to show.
Taking a seat, I play with the remotes on the overhead cameras that are installed on the media tower and backboards, making sure the sensors are receiving signal to them. A man, a student I guess, comes up behind me and sits down, clearing his throat. “Aran. You don’t know me, but I’m Luke, Kyle’s best friend,” he says.
I swivel around in the seat and smile at him. “I know who you are. Kyle told me some stories about your antics back in Colorado,” I say nervously, wondering what he wants with me.
“I’ve only got a few seconds before the team comes out. I really don’t want him to know I was here, but I wanted to tell you not to give up on him,” he blurts out. “Oh, shit.” He crouches down into the seats as the sound of bouncing basketballs echo off the walls. He runs up the stairs and through the doors out of sight.
I turn back around and slump down in my seat, just as Kyle walks onto the floor. Kris comes up from behind me as well.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find a place to park,” he groans.
“Yeah, tickets go on sale for the first home tourney game in about an hour. The line is crazy long already,” I explain.
“Where do you want me?” he asks.
“How about today, we switch it up?” I ask. “Let’s both move around wherever we feel like, but stay opposite each other.”
“Ooh, fun!” he exclaims, and starts unloading his cameras.
I head on down to the floor, pushing that strange scene with Luke to the back of my mind. I’ll think about it later. Within a few minutes, I’m able to take pic after pic of great shots. The guys are on fire this morning. You can tell there’s a different energy in the building. Let’s hope that translates to a win tomorrow.
