Rookie Playing For Keeps #Wattys2015 #NewAdult

Chapter 10 Part 2

October 2013

            The crowd around me is on their feet. I imagine the whole thing happens rather quickly, but for me it's as if it plays out in slow motion. The lights of the stadium are bright and the air around us crisp with the night chill. Then my world turns black with fear as the coaches storm the field, huddling around Jackson.

            Back in high school, he dislocated his shoulder in a game, severely injuring tendons and having to undergo surgery to repair the damage. He fought hard and recovered, and the painful rehabilitation was long behind him by the time he suited up to play college ball. But sometimes the things we put behind us resurface, and tonight his previously conquered injury has returned to the battlefield. 

            Moments ago the players lined up near the thirty-yard line, ready to lock in their impressive lead. I watched Jackson look down the line and take his position to the rear of the center. Over the cheers of the fans I could hear his snap count, and I watched his jaw tighten the split second before the center snapped the ball. I'd seen him do this countless times before, his hand gripping the leather and laces, pulling back to ready the ball for delivery to his open wide receiver.

            Left foot back, then right. His hips twisted as he aligned his body for the throw. With his attention completely on the receiver, he didn't see the opposing blitzing linebacker break through and barrel toward him. The sheer momentum of the player caused Jackson's body to lift off the ground before slamming back onto the damp surface of the field and sliding, horribly tangled with his opponent. Player upon player landed on top of him, unable and unwilling to relent until the sack was complete. 

            I watch as each man stands up, anxiously waiting for Jackson to return to his feet. Instead, when the last player removes his weight from the pile, my quarterback lies still, his body the picture of torment as he grips his shoulder. I don't take my eyes off of him, chanting to myself, "Please Jackson, get up." I can no longer see him when the coaches and the team trainer kneel beside him, talking to him and trying to keep the area clear.

            I'm not sure what happens on the field next because I push my way out of the crowd and head for the locker room, knowing only that I have to make sure he's okay. Later, at the hospital, we learn that he has reinjured his shoulder and broken his arm, both sites of impact requiring surgery. The fear of earlier is replaced with a thick and heavy grief as doctors deliver the news that the injuries sustained will most likely end his career.

The surgeries aren't the worst of the experience, although watching Jackson in pain is more torturous than feeling pain myself. The endless hours spent in the hospital, and then later in physical therapy, are nothing compared to watching him have to give up his dream. Long ago, his family gave him the freedom to pursue his football career. He knew that it wouldn't last forever and that eventually he would take his place, willingly,  at Rider Corporation. He just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

            His teammates and coaches are wonderful, checking in and sending their best wishes, but on the weeks that the team plays away it feels empty within the sterile walls of the hospital. The months seem to drag on, draped in the darkness of his loss.

Jackson puts on a brave face for me, assuring me there is a bright side to the way his career has played out; he is leaving at the top of his game, having succeeded in making it to the pros. He smiles when he tells me that going first round was the pinnacle of it all and that leaving the NFL will not be the end of his love for football, just a readjustment to the role he plays in the game. But sometimes when he doesn't think I'm paying attention, I see the way he sucks in sharply with the pain of his injury. He stops returning phone calls and takes to spending the days between physical therapy visits sleeping or propped up watching old games on TV.

            I try to get him out to interact with our group of friends, but he isn't interested. He often goes to bed before me and is asleep by the time I crawl under the covers. Other times when I try to join him on the couch to cuddle, he will wince at the pain it causes and I find myself retreating to the far end, afraid to hurt him. We are back to a delicate dance in our relationship and I feel helpless to make it stop, helpless to get closer to him when it feels like he is pushing me away.

            On one of my doctor's appointments I'm feeling tired and out of sorts. This is supposed to be a happy time, but I feel like our future has been stolen right out from under us and it's slowly taking Jackson with it. My doctor must notice the shift in our behavior. She lightly rests her hand on top of mine as I lie back on the table and she begins to slide the cold Doppler instrument across my tight skin. Almost right away, the air is filled with the sound of our baby's rapid heartbeats.

"You know," she ventures, treading lightly, "some women begin to feel sadness and anxiety around this time in their pregnancies, and the two of you have been through some extraordinary circumstances." Her eyes meet mine. "Depression can be a difficult thing for couples. I'd love to give you the name of a therapist I work with who might be able to help you deal with that extra stress. I refer many of my first time parents to her."

I hear Jackson shift in his seat and I imagine he might be uncomfortable with seeing a therapist. My doctor leans a little further over me so that only I can see her face. "I think both of you should go and talk about your fears and feelings." She winks at me and tips her head a little in Jackson's direction and relief washes through me. Finally I'm going to get some help with the heavy, suffocating grief that is weighing us both down. I nod my head and at the end of the session she hands me a card.

Our first time with the therapist is a little intimidating, but her office is filled with toys and bookcases full of children's books and manuals. She lets us know that the majority of her clients are new moms, but that she often sees couples, as well. She encourages Jackson to come to sessions with me and by our fourth visit, things are starting to feel better. If he notices the shift in focus from my anxieties and fears to his new plan for our future, he doesn't say anything to me about it. We begin to lay out a new strategy and with it comes a sense of calm and purpose. We have survived another challenge in our relationship and with it we have gained the confidence that nothing can break us apart.

            "You know, I can still coach a football team if we have a boy," he says, wrapping his good arm around me one day as we leave his physical therapy appointment. "I'll be able to throw a ball to him and watch his games." I mourn his loss, but at the same time I am filled with joy at the thought of him with our little boy. "I can still hold you at night, and wear my wedding ring. Things are looking up, Rookie."

            We spend the rest of October packing his things and moving him home to California. Somewhere along the way the grief lessens and the awareness that he'll be there in our home each night to sleep beside me begins to take hold. We laugh over stuffed boxes and the chaos of moving again. Family comes in to help with the heavy lifting, making our house alive with love and gratitude. We are quite the pair, me with my ever growing belly and him with his dominant arm in a sling. We feel broken down, but not apart and together we begin to rebuild. 

            We make our new house a home, filling it with laughter and new dreams. Jackson begins to learn his role as the head of his company. He trades in his jerseys for three-piece suits and I watch my husband become the businessman I have always known he could be, but didn't expect to meet until much later. I fear he will change, that he will be unhappy without football, but instead he turns his powerful determination toward mastering the position his father once held.

            By the end of October, Jackson has found his place at that boardroom table. I assume it's where he will sit for a while, and he does, but he doesn't stop there. He clears a place for my father and brothers beside him, merging our two companies into the largest chain of upscale hotels in the United States. The men who once fought hard to keep me away from Jackson fall into step beside him, welcoming his business plan and ideals. The day the paperwork is signed that joins the Rider Corporation with Stone Family Industries, my heart is full and at peace.

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