Rookie Playing For Keeps #Wattys2015 #NewAdult

Chapter 7 Part 2

July 2013

            I hold my cell in my hand so tightly I can feel the buttons on the sides digging into my palm. Even though I'm expecting it, I jump when Jackson's ringtone starts to play. "Hello?" I try to sound upbeat, even though there's a part of me that wants to beg him to come home. 

            "Hey, Rookie." I hear the rustle of movement and the muffled voices of his new teammates in the background. The days ahead of me will be spent as they always are, the same routine and the same people. Jackson's will be filled with new friends and exciting milestones. I try not to act like a spoiled brat, but I'm already growing a little resentful of the space between us. "I hope you got my text earlier that I made it here safe. I couldn't call right away—they brought us straight to the hotel to check in and then it was off to the facility to meet the coaches." I swallow down the fear that he will enjoy his new life better than our old one, feeling the lump in my throat grow two sizes.

            "Yes, I got it, thank you. That's great that you met the coaches! God, it must have been so surreal." A smile finally tugs at my cheeks. I'm happy for him, truly happy he is living his dream and if that means I will have to endure missing him terribly for a while then I will give it my best try. 

            "It was pretty unreal. They gave us a bunch of team stuff to go through and a few DVDs they want us to watch about the team history..." his words trail off as shouting in the background grows louder. I hear him laugh and answer the yell, "No, man. I'm tired of burgers. Let's get something else." His voice grows clearer as if he has moved the phone back up to his lips. "Sorry, what was I saying?" I open my mouth to tell him, but then I hear the high-pitched, sugary voice of a woman over the line.

"Jackson, hurry up. I'm starving," she coos. I feel my blood run cold. There is a scratchy sound and I can make out the familiar tone of Jackson's voice but none of the words. He must have his hand covering the phone. I close my eyes and try to reassure myself I shouldn't be jealous. Many of the players have their wives or girlfriends with them. It's probably nothing.

I wait for him to return to our conversation, fighting the urge to ask him about the female voice. "Sorry, Rookie. Everyone wants to grab dinner. I have to run. I'll call you tonight when I get back to the room." I imagine him out with his team, the attention they will draw. I wish he was at home with me, ordering in and watching a movie. I hate him being in a town I've never seen with women I don't trust. It's not that I don't trust Jackson. I absolutely do, but I'm jealous of those other women. I don't like thinking that they get to spend time with him and I don't.

I hear the group laugh, but I'm not able to make out what is said. I feel so far away and removed from the conversation, like I'm on the outside of a joke. Jackson's low chuckle sounds across the line and my heart stutters in my chest. I can hear how much he's enjoying this experience. I can do this for him. It will all be worth it.

"I miss you, Maddy. I feel a million miles away from you right now."   

         "I miss you, too."

"I'll call you when I get back to the hotel. I love you."

"Love you, too." I hit 'end.' and put my phone on the nightstand. I know I have to find something to distract me so that I won't go crazy imagining what he is doing, so I reach for the phone again and start searching haphazardly. I look at the weather forecast in Jackson's area, then look up his hotel. From there, I find the local paper to check out their pre-season coverage. I discover an article about training camp and begin to read through it, smiling as the reporter makes humorous predictions about the week to come. As I read on, I notice that she really seems to focus on Jackson. Female reporters are not new for me. During the weeks before the draft I was interviewed by a few and never felt uncomfortable watching Jackson interact with them, but something in this woman's tone makes me increasingly uneasy.