Prove It [Odell Beckham Jr. love Story] (First Sight Pt. II)

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"It was fine babe." I spoke to Alana through my phone as she asked about my day and everything else you'd expect her to ask for someone in our situation.

"I made food." I smiled.

"Yea? What you make?"

"Your favorite."

"My favorite is anything you make for me."

"I know, but tonight I made you a steak."

That's sounds amazing right now. I needed something heavy because practice almost killed me. I had been working out, but the drills we ran tonight were terrible. I understand because the severity of what games this is. Still kicked my ass though.

"Alright, I'll hurry up. You and mom went and saw Junior today?"

"Yea, it was so cute. I think he's really getting better Dell because he opened and closed his hand today. He's still not lifting his arms but...baby steps, I guess."

That made me happy to hear. I just wanted him to get better. I wanted him to get better and soon. I wanted him home and with me and his mom. I wanted him with my mom some nights Alana and I felt overwhelmed. I wanted people to come to the house and visit so that they could take turns holding him. I wanted to wake up on Sunday mornings and get him dressed for my games. I wanted to leave the stadium with me, especially now. If we somehow do make it to the Super Bowl, had my son been in the crowd, there wouldn't be a doubt in my mind about whether or not we'd win. I'd do everything I could to make him proud of me. In that moment, I'd win any game even if it meant I had to do it myself. Right now...I can't say the same.

"I'm going to try to head over there before visiting hours are up."

"Yea baby, you should."

"Alright, I love you. I'll talk to you when I'm on my way home."

"Okay, be safe."
~
I sat in my normal spot and pressed my hand against the glass of my baby's enclosure. Alana was right, he can open and close his hand. He does it so slowly. It's adorable. I watched him do it five times in the last 15 minutes.

His eyes were wide open tonight.

He looked directly into mine as I looked into his. I began to compare the first image I got of him to what he looked like now. Still tiny and fragile, yet no tubes or multiple machines. A few IVs and electrodes. I think those are what the nurse called them; electrodes. They look like stickers and the monitor his heart. Sucks that a machine gets to feel my baby's heartbeat before I do. But aside from my jealousy of modern medicine, I did appreciate what everyone here was doing for my son. They had been watching him, constantly, making sure nothing went wrong. Apart of me thinks he's better off here sometimes, when I'm not being selfish, because I know they'll know what to do in case of an emergency. I, on the other hand, can't say the same.

"Mr. Beckham?" I looked up and saw the doctor walk inside with his clipboard in hand. He began walking towards us then placed both hands on Jr.'s crib. I looked at the clock hanging above the door. Fuck...I had to leave.

I got one more look at him before placing both hands on the crib as well. Let go. Let go now man.

I couldn't. I can't keep leaving him here without him knowing that I'm thinking about him. All I could do was sit and stare into those same eyes that had been staring at me since I got here.

"Visiting hours are over, sir."

"I know..I just-...just give me a minute."

The doctor sighed. "Mr. Beckham...-"

"You know what I'm going through?" I shot my eyes up at him and waited for a response.

I can appreciate all that he's done for my baby, but every time they rip him away from me it's like they tear open the same wound I'm trying my hardest to close. He didn't speak. He just stared. I shook my head then huffed.

"Of course you don't," I replied to myself looking back at my son. "How could you? My son is in here because of me, not you. And it's your responsibility to make sure he's safe and healthy, something I couldn't do. So when you tell me to leave you're not thinking about whether or not im living with the constant reminder that my son can die any minute that he's here and I wouldn't know until someone gave me a phone call about it. He could leave this earth and I guess, at that point, I'd finally be able to hold on to him."

I didn't mean to release all that on him, but it was the truth. My son could leave earth before I get to hold him in my arms and feel him breathe life. I couldn't even take my finger and brush it against his cheek while it was still warm. These are things I've been living with for weeks now. Patience only goes so far.

"Mr. Beckham...I'm doing my job."

"I know you are...I know." I released Junior's crib then got out my seat. I looked at him one more time then head for the door.

He was right. He didn't deserve to be hassled right now. It's best for my son if I leave without causing a scene. And I've never wanted to cause a scene so bad before in my life. My son needs to be in a least stressful environment as possible. Me arguing with his doctor isn't necessarily being there for him in the way he needs it most. I wasn't going to tell or fight. Or scream. Or dodge. Or curse. I was going to leave, for another night. And pray throughout my time in bed that he would still be there when I came back in the morning. This is the price to pay for this situation that I put my family in.

Before I could fully walk pass the doctor, he put his hand on my arm. I paused then looked at him. "If I let you do this....you better not tell your wife."

I looked at him with a confused glare on my face. "What he hell are you talking about?" I asked bluntly.

I watched him walk over to the cabinet and grab these blue scrubs. He turned around and handed them to me. "I need you to get undressed, put those on, then wash your hands." he shoved the scrubs into my chest then walked over to the sink. He began washing his hands as I started to undress myself. "I'll just have you take a seat, this can't take place for too long. Only a few minutes." he began to inform me as he continued to prep. Once I had gotten dressed, I tossed my clothes on top of the made up hospital bed then walked over to the sink. Following my hand wash, I went back over to my original seat. The doctor had called in a nurse from the hall. I watched as they slowly lifted the glass top half of my son's enclosure, exposing him to the same air I breathe. I watched, in amazement, as he scooped my son up and carried him in my direction.

My heart was racing and my hands began to shake. I tried to take a deep breath, hoping that would calme my nerves, but it didn't. I didn't mean to gaslight the doctor into letting me hold my son. But I wanted this so bad for the last couple weeks. I wanted nothing more than to hold him to close to me. Sounds weird, but I wanted to smell him and go home trying to recreate his scent whenever I missed his presence. Now I could do all that.

The doctor placed him gently in my arms. His body was so soft and light. His skin was warm and felt like silk. He nuzzled his tiny body in my embrace, which was the most movement I've seen from him since his birth. With his eyes still wide open, his little hand began grasping at his side. All I could do was stare. His eyes were light brown, like Lana's. Piercing like min. His skin was caramel, like mine. His hair was brown, like Lana's. His hair was curly, like mine. His lips were full, like Lana's. He had a small birth mark right on his thigh, just like his mom.I'm holding him and looking into his eyes. I can see his entire future. I can see him playing football like me. I can see him at every single one of my games. Him telling his friends at school about what it's like to have me as a dad. I could see him playing with my mom and dad, with Lana's dad. On the flip side, I could see him watching his mother and I argue. I could see him secretly present for our disputes about the past. I could see him watch us cry over the situation we're in now. I don't like that. I want him to experience only good. Nothing dramatic, chaotic, painful, or scary. Only safe and secure...just like this. I want to keep him like this for the rest of his life. Not small and fragile. Not needy or hurt. But tiny and in my arms.

I love him more than I loved anything on this planet.
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Comments on how you think Odell will be amidst fatherhood? Thanks for sticking with me and this story guys! I really do appreciate it that's why I'm making it my personal goal to finish it for you.