I hear the ball connect with the bat. I lift my glove, try to reach for the fly ball. I’m so out of it.
The ground tilts upward. I grab at the air looking for something to hold me up. A horrible pain explodes in my chest, but I barely feel it as the world goes totally black.
Let me go home.
To you.
44
LEXIE
Oh, God…No!
We run out on the field. That ball must have knocked the wind out of him. But he’s not moving.
Oh fuck, he’s not moving.
A million possible injuries flash through my head. I saw that ball. My legs are heavy as they sprint every step. I can’t get out there fast enough. He’s still not moving. I thought by now he’d be shaking this off.
He’s not. He’s out cold. Oh, God….
I thought it hit his chest, not his head. Why is he passed out?
Why didn’t he catch it?
These are the moments we train for. The ones that really matter. The ones that can make someone live or die. This is life or death. Life or death for Bobby. He isn’t moving.
I look for breathing. It’s there. Thank God, it’s there. But it’s too labored. Doesn’t look right, like he’s fighting for life.
“Jae, call 911.” Mindy is at Bobby’s side, checking for a pulse. “Rapid, thready, and weak.”
My heart feels like it stops. I’m in a stupor, too shocked to understand what is happening. His skin is red and feels hot, like a pan straight out of the oven. You’d think he’d be sweating but there isn’t a drop on his skin.
Heatstroke.
“We need to cool him down.” Mindy says, “Let’s get him off the field.”
Coaches bring a stretcher over. There’s the EMT that works the games. They jump into action, helping Mindy.
Bobby’s still not moving. Wake up. Come on, wake up. Please, please wake up.
Mindy stripps off his jersey and there is a huge bruise forming on his chest where the ball hit. She palpates the area. Probably shattered ribs. But that wouldn’t knock him out. Syncope, passing out, is a symptom of heatstroke. Learned that freshman year.
“Get the towels wet.” Mindy tilts her head. “Get me the hose. We’ve gotta cool him down, now.”
I’m taking off more of his clothes while Jae is on the phone with emergency telling them where to find us and what happened.
What did happen?
Mindy moves fast and something about it is so beautiful. No, it’s not beautiful. It’s comforting. Mindy knows what she’s doing. She can help him. Please, just help him.
“Get me a tarp.” Mindy says, messing with the hose they brought over. Everyone’s shocked. Everyone’s worried. I can feel the tension from the seats. The game has stopped. The other team’s athletic trainer is over here trying to help.
“Let’s dump the ice water from the coolers, then go to concessions and get more ice,” Mindy instructs, and some of the players run off to get it. The crowd watches.
“Lexie! The towels,” Mindy yells. I shake out of this frozen state, overwhelm and worry mixing in my gut. I dip rags in cold water and dab them all over his skin. It feels like hot leather, not the soft warmth I’m used to. I know him. I’ve held every inch of him. This is beyond wrong. Wake the fuck up, Bobby. Come on.
Mindy’s messing with a tarp and the hose. “Get him over here.”
A couple of the players help move him to the makeshift ice bath. Tate pours the ice water. Zac helps spread it around. Mindy holds Bobby’s head up, cold towels all over him. The tarp holds water like he’s in an icy puddle.
Mindy takes out her thermometer. “Temp is 105.7. Mickey, did he get drunk last night?” She looks at Mickey but he looks as shocked as I feel. His eyes meet the ground, refusing to answer.
“Lexie, do you know anythin’?”
“N-n-no,” I stutter out. Temperature 105.7 repeats in my mind. Dangerously high. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
“Mickey, you live with him. Did he do anythin’ last night? Does anybody know? Zac? Ethan? Briar? Who knows? Anyone know?”
They shake their heads, shame coloring their expressions. We all wish we knew more. The players are a mix of worry and concern.
“He went home after practice, I think.” Zac’s sitting right next to Mindy, trying to help.
“No, he went somewhere after. Saw his truck parkin’ at the apartment a little later than I got back.” Briar dips the towels, dabbing them on Bobby’s chest. “Looked fine, though.”
Bobby’s still unconscious. Oh fuck. How many minutes has it been?
Too many.
He shouldn’t be out this long, even with heatstroke. No, no, please. Don’t let this happen. Don’t let this happen, God. Please.
A siren.
I’m transported in time to when I heard sirens the night of Cody’s death. No. Not again. Please, not again.
Another EMT and a paramedic come out to the field.
“Suspected heat stroke, Bobby Anderson, age twenty-three, six foot one, about a hundred and sixty-five pounds, temp 105.7 last check. Rapid pulse–weak and thready, labored breathing. Baseball impact to the chest at third base.” Mindy rattles off details while the paramedic puts an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.
Mindy looks at her watch. “It’s been eight minutes since the impact and he hasn’t come to. No known medications. Drank some Gatorade about half an hour ago. Anorexic-bulimic–in treatment, but possible relapse.”
The EMT jots down everything while the paramedic works on an IV.
Anorexic-bulimic rings in my ears. He can’t be. No, this can’t be real. He woulda told me. I know he woulda told me.
“Veins are collapsed, likely from dehydration.” The paramedic tries a few more spots. “After we get some cold saline, we’re gonna stay here till we get him cooled down.”
Mindy nods, doing what she can. “Are his parents here, Lexie?”
I look into the stands for the section where his dad always sits. “Don’t think so.” Fuck, I wish I knew. Wish he woulda talked to me. Fuck, he’s been going through all this and didn’t tell me.
He’s not waking up.
I stare at his body that looks more lifeless than it should. “Hang in there.” My teeth chatter, hands freezing from the cold water? Or worry? I’m not sure.
Finally, they get a vein. The saline drips as I sit near Mindy, brushing hair off Bobby’s forehead that is still so hot, shocking my skin. Hang in there, baby. Hang in there.
The EMT puts a cooling blanket over him and takes vital signs.
After a few minutes, his temp starts coming down. Thank fuck.
“Let’s transport.” They get him on a stretcher and roll him out through the front gate. Security keeps guests from getting too close.
I want to ask if I can come with him. My heart shatters knowing that I can’t. We aren’t together anymore. My heart wants to beat for him. I struggle to exist knowing that he’s fading in the back of that ambulance, without me.
“If anythin’ happens to the other players, text me.” Mindy takes my hands. It’s her responsibility to stay with a player at least until his parents arrive. Especially after an emergency like this. “I’ll have Jessica come as soon as she can.” She jogs to the back of the ambulance and climbs in.
The world spins around me. My body shakes. I try to have faith, but I can’t.
“Back we go.” Jae puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me to the dugout. Please Bobby, just wake up. Just be okay.
Everyone cleans up the tarps and hose to get the field back in working order. They return to the game like nothing happened.
So much happened.
Anorexic-bulimic? My teeth chatter harder. I sit on the bench, trying to take a breath that my lungs won’t allow.
How did I not know?
All the health food and bottles of supplements. All the times he refused to eat anything. All the times he was cold, like his body didn’t have enough circulation–another symptom of
an eating disorder.
I didn’t know. How did I live with him and not know? I must be fucking blind.
Another secret he’s kept from me.
I feel like I’m sinking, lost in the dark depths of an ocean.
“It’s alright.” Jae pats my shoulder. “They got him quick, he’ll pull through.”
Empty promises. He can’t possibly know if he’ll pull through.
“Anorexic-bulimic. Did you know?”
“No.” Jae sighs. “I’m sure that’s something kept discreet intentionally.”
“Come on Lex, Bobby’s been purgin’ for years.” Mickey wipes sweat from his brow.
I jump at the unexpected sound of his voice.
“You knew.” I glare at him, blood racing through my veins. I want to strangle him. “Where have you been? For him and for me? You walked out on us while he clearly needs you.” I’m exploding, and he leans back on the bench, cool as a winter day.
“It’s when Bobby’s stressed out.” Mickey shrugs. “We all have our things.”
Anger floods me, weighs me down, because I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the signs. I should’ve helped him. I’ve studied all about disordered eating in athletics. I’ve written abstracts on sports medicine articles. I’ve given presentations. I should have known.
I lived with him, and I didn’t see it.
“Well his thing is somethin’ that people die from,” The snark slithers from my tongue.
“I already told you. We all have our things.” Mickey’s voice is intense, repeating again like it’s all he will ever say, and it jars me in a way I don’t expect. Almost like he’s defending himself.
Tears burn at my eyes. How could Mickey know and not do anything?
How could Bobby keep this from me?
The thought is like a dam breaking in my mind. I wanted so much to have him be honest with me. Transparent with me. I hoped I could trust him.
If I had an eating disorder I would’ve told him. If I had been intimate with our mutual friend, I would’ve told him.
But he never told me. What else has he not told me? I hate myself for being so selfish right now, but that is what I feel. Maybe it’s the only way to cope with the shock.
My head throbs as I watch the players.
Buzzing in my pocket pulls me away from the game. I dare to hope it’s Mindy.
Jessica: On my way.
I sigh.
Another buzz.
Mindy: Send me Bobby’s parents’ info.
Me: Is he ok?
Mindy: Working on it.
I rush to the kit, pulling out a worn notebook with tons of player forms. Flipping pages, I find Bobby’s sheet and type out the contact numbers for his mom and dad.
The moment I’m finished with everything at the game, I get in my car and speed all the way there. By the time I finish all the post game responsibilities, it’s been almost two hours since the impact. Please, God, Jesus, Universe, let me not be too late.
This is a nightmare. I vowed to never set foot in this hospital again. Peterson Memorial Hospital is all too familiar. This parking garage. This old elevator that leads to the main floor of the emergency wing. This place makes my body shake with each step.
Mindy sits in the Emergency Department waiting room.
“How is he?”
“Stabilizing.”
I feel like I’m able to take my first breath. “It was heatstroke, then?”
“Oh yeah.” Mindy looks exhausted, like the life has been sucked from her. Hospitals aren’t good places for her either…she was rushed here with her miscarriages.
“Looks like he was already depleted, though.” She plays with her nails like she needs something to do with her hands.
“You told the EMT he has an eating disorder?” I hate the words coming out of my mouth.
She lets out a long sigh. “Yeah.”
The word stings. She knew when I didn’t. It drives these wounds deeper, when all I wanted to do was leave them alone to heal.
“I just wish there was somethin’ more we could’ve done.” Mindy fiddles with her hands.
There’s that weight. The one I’ve worried about. The one that makes you concerned that you aren’t enough because truthfully, you aren’t. Heat stroke is preventable. But she was making everyone hydrate. I saw her.
“He was okay before he went out for that inning.” Maybe it’s the denial talking or maybe it’s because I know too well what it’s like when someone blames themself for a situation.
“Bobby’s never okay, Lex.”
My head spins at her words, because I know they are true. He puts on a strong front. Always working hard. Always performing. But he’s not okay.
“He’s never okay.” It’s a stark whisper, like I want to make the words anything other than the truth.
“No. None of us are. How could we be after what happened to Cody?” She stares at the Emergency Department desk. “That’s why I don’t get why you left us all here.” There’s a catch in her throat, and I’m reminded of all the times I saw her and Cody in the training room. “We all miss him. We’re all so torn up about what happened. I wish you would’ve turned to us for healing instead of runnin’ away. We need each other.”
Every part of me unravels. I can’t breathe.
“Is that why we aren’t close anymore?” I wait until she looks at me. “Because I’ve been rattlin’ my mind tryin’ to figure it out.” There’s an anger I shouldn’t have in my tone.
She is my lead. I can’t talk back to her. It means risking my recommendation and could still strip me of my place in the program, just before the certification exam. And right now I don’t even care.
“You think I ran away and left all of you behind?” I clench my fists. “Did you ever think for one second that this had nothin’ to do with you?” Tears come rushing out of my face and I can’t stop them. “And I know you sure as fuck don’t approve of anythin’ between me and Bobby. And maybe you’re right, because I didn’t know about his eating disorder, and it’s one more thing on a long list of things I didn’t know about. So maybe I did need to run away. Maybe I needed to get the fuck out of this town and leave every bit of it behind. Because now that I’ve been back for months, not a day goes by when I don’t think about how it’s a mistake for me to be back here, without Cody.”
I expect her to yell at me, to argue, to threaten to cut me from the program. But she doesn’t.
She wraps her arms around me.
45
BOBBY
I blink, opening my eyes in an unfamiliar place.
Where am I?
I feel awful. Like I’m not alive. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ve slipped away. Maybe I’m watching life from the other side.
Cold air rushes through my nostrils. Breathing. No, no, I’m alive.
What happened?
Big white ceiling tiles overhead. It takes a minute, but I remember things in broken fragments. Like trying to remember a dream first thing in the morning.
I was playing ball and then….
Oh shit, I’m in a hospital.
Jeez, I feel like hell. Wait, I’ve been in a room like this before. When Cody died. Someone’s hand is on mine.
Lexie?
Machines are all over me. Beeping. Cold running in my veins. Is it medicine maybe?
“Wh–” I start to speak, but my throat is so dry I cough and swallow before trying again. “What happened?”
“You’re awake.” Lexie jumps, standing over me. “Oh my God. Bobby.” She kisses my forehead. “Fuck, you terrified us.”
Her green irises are shadowed to the point they look dark and heavy amidst the bright lights. It kills me to look into her eyes and see all the hurt there. “You’ve been cryin’.”
“You gave us all quite the scare.” She sniffles and wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “Eating disorder?” It’s a whisper. She coughs like she’s clearing her throat, but I hear the pain she’s concealing.
Ther
e’s a weight in my chest, like an anvil, planting me deeper into the depths of this horribly uncomfortable bed. “I shoulda told you.”
“I know.” She grabs my hand tighter. “I’m just glad you’re awake.” Her lips pull in a tight smile, like she’s trying to be strong. Shit, she is so incredibly strong.
Mindy stands next to her. “How you doin’ Bobby?”
“Not so good.” My hand goes to my chest. The ball took me out. That fragment of memory fits into place.
A nurse comes in and introduces herself as Julie. “We got your blood work back, and your electrolyte levels are all over the place. We’re keeping you overnight for observation. The doctor has ordered an echocardiogram. He wants to check your heart.” She talks to me about eating disorders and that I need to get help. After a while, she leaves a bunch of brochures for recovery centers on the tray table and goes about her business.
Dad stands in the doorway. He’s wearing scrubs, like he didn’t have time to change after surgery before he rushed over here. There’s a look of shock on his face. He must’ve heard all that.
Oh, God.
I brace myself for all the disappointment that’s gonna come. I feel exposed, like I’m laying here naked before the world. I close my eyes, overcome with how angry I am for letting my eating disorder go this far. I shoulda done better. It’s one thing when it’s just my problem. Now, I’ve made it everyone else’s problem.
“I’m gonna see if I can find a Coke machine. We will give y’all a minute.” Lexie kisses my fingers, and she and Mindy walk past Dad and out the door.
“Son.” He sits beside me, taking in all the machines I’m hooked up to until he finds my face. “I came as fast as I could. Are you alright?”
“I think so.” I try to be strong, but I know what’s coming. He is not gonna handle this.
“When did it all start?” His eyes aren’t judgemental, instead they are full of concern. “How long you been goin’ through this?”
A Game Like Ours: Suncastle College Book One Page 34