for the love of the game ; g.d.

Chapter 17

About 30 minutes later, Lisa, my mom and I all drove to the hospital. Once we were in the building, Lisa talked to the receptionist and we made our way to Grayson's room. There was a doctor standing outside of his room, taking papers and a clipboard out of the slot next to the door. Lisa rushed over to him and instantly asked what was wrong.

"You're his mother, I'm guessing?" The doctor asked. She nodded frantically, and grabbed the string of her purse with shaky hands.

"We don't know much right now, but he's in a lot of pain right now. We're still running tests, and he's pretty heavily sedated right now, but I'll make sure to let you know once we know more," the doctor said. She nodded and let out a breath that she seemed to have been holding in for hours. We took our seats at the chairs in the hall, and all we could do now was wait.

Lisa looked absolutely exhausted. I guess I'd never taken a minute these past few days to just take a second and look at her, but she looked like she was completely hollowed out. She balancing two jobs, dealing with a divorce, and still having to find time to make it to both of her son's games. I've always admired Lisa for the kind and caring woman she is, but now I guess I finally realize how strong she is.

The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. Each time the doctor left his room we all jumped out of our seats, but each time he turned and headed down the hallway. We waited for about approximately one hour, twenty-four minutes and thirty two seconds. I had the time to count it up.

He approached us, still holding the clipboard, and an un-promising look on his face to say the least. We were all standing directly in front of him, my arm hooked with Lisa's, who was holding onto my mom's hand for dear life.

"He tore his ACL," the doctor said. "His legs and knees were already under a lot of pressure, and were a lot weaker than we would've expected, due to excessive amounts of physical activity and lack of calcium I'm asuming, and based on what the paramedics told us, all it took was one bad step for it to tear."

Lisa's head dropped, and my mom let out a breath that sounded like she had been holding it in for days. My mom and I stepped back while Lisa went into his room with the doctor. About 15 minutes later, Lisa waved me inside and stepped out. "He wanted to see you," she said, wiping her nose with a tissue. The doctor followed her out, and once I was in, closed the door behind him.

Grayson laid there, staring at the ceiling, probably contemplating how the hell he was ever going to be able to get through these next few months. I've read a lot about ACL injuries, especially once I started playing sports. It involves a lot of pain, a lot of patience, and a lot of physical therapy, but the worst pain of it all is knowing that it will probably be at least a year until you can pick up a ball again. I'd heard horror stories of some major athletes that tore their's, and once they came back it was like they had lost their spark.

I personally never thought Grayson could lose his spark if he willingly kissed it goodbye, because he was just naturally good.

"Hey," I said quietly. He looked over at me and smiled. "Hey," he said in a more cheerful voice than I expected. I took a seat in a chair next to his bed and instinctively grabbed his hand, tracing his knuckles with the tip of my pointer finger. Just one of the many habits I've evolved throughout the years.

"Gray, I'm so sorry," I practicality whispered. He scoffed, making my head shoot up.

"That doctor was just being dramatic. 'You won't be able to play ball for a long time, Grayson. This is a big deal.' My ass, right? I've gone through worse injuries than this," he said.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes as I tightened my grip on his hand. "Gray I don't think you unde-"

"No, no, no," he said, cutting me off. "Don't you start that shit too, baby. I need someone on my side. We'll still go to the field, right? And race around the bases and play catch and hit the ball around, won't we? I mean, this doesn't change anything, it's just a little knee injury, no big deal."

I had no idea what to do or say, but he wasn't finished yet.

"I've never gone a day without baseball. Who the hell is that doctor to tell me I won't be able to play it again for at least 9 months, I mean, seriously? Like..." his breathing was starting to shorten, and his voice was quivering. Tears didn't just form in his eyes, they fell down his face like tiny waterfalls. "This, this isn't happening, Leah."

We cried softly and I lightly kissed the back of his hand. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay."

He pulled his hand lose and tugged on my arm, trying to pull me up to him. I crawled up next to him and let him rest his head on my chest as I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. I lightly tugged at and played with his hair with my free hand, which had always calmed him down in the past, but didn't seem to do much in this situation. Soft sobs escaped his lips occasionally, until he eventually fell asleep.