Chasing Home (NFL)

Connection

“I'm stretching, but you're just out of reach
You should know
I'm ready when you're ready for me
And I'm waiting for the right time
For the day I catch your eye
To let you know
That I'm yours to hold”

– “Yours to Hold” by Skillet

Chapter 25: Connection

            I returned to Foxborough in time for work on Monday. Needless to say, I was not in a great mood. Thankfully, Monday was usually my easiest day of work because players were either in too good of a mood form a win on Sunday or too bad of a mood from a loss. I was usually right there with them. Today was only different because of my absence from the team last game.

            I was almost too deep in my thoughts to notice when someone entered my “office.” Upon hearing footsteps, I lifted my head to rest my gaze on Brady. I frowned. “You’re supposed to knock.” I usually would not have minded, but I wanted to be left alone.

            “I’m sorry,” Brady said. He continued his movement forward and sat down across from me.

            “Do you need something?”

            “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said, his expression showing his concern.

            I looked away. Why? Why did it have to be him? “I’m fine,” I said.

            “You don’t look fine. It must have been rough to go back to Green Bay and lose.”

            “I’m trying not to let the Packers bother me,” I said honestly. “If they’re going to act that way, they’re not worth my time.” This was why I could not let myself regret not talking to Aaron when I had the chance. It was too late, and he did not mean it. “The Patriots are better anyway, right?” I looked back at him with a weak smile that felt forced.

            Brady frowned, not appearing convinced. “Right. If you do ever want to talk you should know that I am here for you.”

            I glanced down again and did not say anything. My mind was too exhausted to over-analyze what he was saying this time.

            I heard him get up and start to walk away. Something suddenly came over me, and without really understanding why, I impulsively called out, “Tom!”

            He stopped and slowly turned around, his expression unreadable.

            I pulled out my wallet and fingered through it until I found what I was looking for: a small photo of my dad and me when I was six-years-old. He was leaning down to my height and had his arm around me, his hand touching my shoulder. Both of us had big smiles on our faces. My heart twisted as I looked at it. My subconscious must have made the connection between this and the Packers, and I was beginning to understand it consciously.

            I took a deep breath before standing up to face Tom. “When I first got here, you saw the picture frame with photos of me and my brothers, and you asked if there was something missing.” I moved forward a few steps and then held out the small photo to him. “This is probably what you were thinking about.”

            Tom’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took the picture form me. Then I saw them rise in surprise. “This is-”

            I nodded. “My dad and me. That was taken the day I met him, soon after my mom died. He took me out around New Orleans and showed me everything I kid would find exciting.” I tried to swallow, but a lump had formed in my throat. Even though that day had taken place when I was very young, it was etched into my memory. Maybe it was because it was the only real memory I had of my father. “I was sad about losing my mom, but I was happy because I thought I had gained a dad. It turns out I was wrong.”