Save Me

by Stephanie Street

  “Good to know.” Macy backed away from my door, her footsteps echoed down the hall. “And dad keeps the key to the liquor cabinet in the top drawer of his dresser!”

  Letting out a deep sigh, I dropped my head back against the mountain of pillows propped up behind me. It had been two days since my surgery and I was so depressed I was half tempted to go looking for that key. The one I didn’t want to think about Macy knowing about since she was only seventeen.

  “Ugh!”

  After punching the mattress at my side, I closed my eyes and struggled to regain my composure. Glancing at the time on my phone, I wondered if it was too early to take my next dose of pain meds. I wasn’t supposed to be laying around. My doctor wanted me to be up and moving around as normally as possible as soon as possible. I pretty much just didn’t want to move at all. Maybe this was the new normal and I could get away with just staying in this bed until I rotted.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. It wasn’t good, this wallowing in self-pity. It also wasn’t healthy all the time I’ve been spending thinking about Joie. I still hadn’t responded to her text message. I’ve stared at it, though. For hours since I received it right before my surgery, I’ve stared at those five little words and wondered what they meant.

  I am so, so sorry.

  If she was so sorry then why did she leave?

  If she was so sorry then why wasn’t she here?

  And then the rage was back. Picking up the gaming controller beside me, I hurled it at the wall across from me. Left-handed because my damn right arm didn’t work! I hurled my tv remote next.

  My dad walked in after I’d dumped my book case and made it to my computer keyboard.

  “What in the hell is going on in here?” His eyes were wide as saucers as he took in the destruction that was my state of mind.

  “Nothing,” I grunted, sweeping my arm across my desk.

  “Cole!”

  I fought his vice like grip.

  “Cole. Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself.” As strong as he was, my dad was trying not to hurt me as he struggled to keep me from hurting myself.

  “Cole! That is enough. I said stop it.”

  The tenderness was what finally got to me. The love in his voice. And I broke down.

  “Oh, son. It’s alright. That’s right. Let it all out.”

  We sank to the floor amid the rubble and my dad just held me.

  I cried for myself. My shoulder. For Joie. For loving her. I cried for my lost dreams. Football. Joie. College.

  Joie.

  Joie.

  Joie.

  It all came back to her. How could I lose football and her? How?

  For the first time in years, I felt like a little kid. I couldn’t even tell you how long I cried or how long my dad held me like that, but by the time my body stopped shuddering, my legs were numb.

  “Come on, son.” Dad’s soft voice brought my head up. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes were as red and puffy as I imagined mine to be.

  He practically had to carry me to the edge of my bed.

  “Now, what’s this all about?”

  I snorted. I needed a tissue. The t-shirt on the floor would have to do. I wiped my face, before tossing it in the corner of the room.

  Dad sighed, and I had a feeling he was wondering what kind of punishment we were both going to get for the state of my room when my mom came home. For some reason, the thought of her face when she saw this mess made me start laughing. The sound that came out of my mouth was half sob, half hilarity.

  “Cole. You need to get ahold of yourself and talk this out. And I don’t even mean your shoulder. Or football. What is going on with you?”

  “Isn’t it enough, dad? Isn’t it enough that I can’t play? I can’t even pick up this useless arm.” To prove my point, I tried with all my might to lift my arm and could barely lift it an inch.

  “Well, two hours of physical therapy will do that to you.”

  Why was he being so rational!

  “So, will being smashed by five hundred pounds!” It was probably closer to seven hundred. There were that many guys on top of me that day.

  Dad shook his head with a sigh. “Cole. This isn’t new. You’ve hid it well with football and college life and girls, but this has been an issue for a long time and it’s time to work it out. Why don’t you just go after her, for heaven’s sake?”

  “What are you talking about?” But I knew.

  Dad’s look said he wasn’t buying it, either. “Get a ticket and go see her.”

  No way. “I’m not doing that.”

  “Why the hell not?” Whoa. Dad hardly ever swore. Even ‘hell’.

  “Because- Because-” Frustrated, I stood up and attempted to pace the length of my room. It wasn’t easy with all the broken stuff all over.

  Sighing again, dad propped his hands against his knees. His penetrating gaze saw right through me.

  I dropped down to the bed again.

  “She left, dad.”

  He nodded. “I know she did, son. But she left a long time before graduation. Before USC. And I know all that stuff with her mom. But there was more wasn’t there?”

  Mom and dad didn’t know all Joie’s secrets. It wasn’t long after things went down with her mom that Joie left and once she was gone- well, I didn’t see the point.

  I nodded. Tears pricked my eyelids again. Maybe I needed to tell my dad. Not for Joie, but for me. I’d been hiding her secrets for too long. Maybe if I told someone about it, it wouldn’t be so hard anymore.

  “There was more, dad. Lots, lots more.”

  His face crumpled for a split second before he got it under control. “Tell me.”

  And so, I did. For the next half hour, I told him about Joie. And the trash bins. And about that time she hit me during our game of pretend school and I realized I’d never been hit before. But she had. I told him about wrestling around with her and the bruises. And the bruises. And the bruises.

  I told him about holding her when she was scared and inviting her over to our house to get her away. I told him about the locks on her door. I told it all.

  And I held onto his shoulder as sobs wracked his body when I was finally done.

  “Cole-” His voice broke. I knew without having to be told he was crying for us both, Joie and me. Joie for the shit she had to go through that she never should have had to go through. Ever. And for me, because I was his son and he’d spent his whole life trying to protect me and I’d been carrying that burden all by myself for a long, long time.

  “Son. I am so, so sorry,” he said a while later. We’d both gotten our emotions under control, for the most part, but when he said those words, those exact words, I almost lost it again.

  I showed him the text from Joie.

  “And you haven’t answered,” he finally asked after staring at the words for a while.

  I shook my head. “I just- I don’t know what to say.”

  “Cole, you are one of the strongest men I know. It’s hard to think of you that way, as a man, because I changed your diapers,” he cracked a grin and I appreciated the attempt at humor. “But you are a man and you’ve grown into to a man I am prouder of than I could ever say. And I’m prouder every day. How is that possible? I don’t know, but it’s the truth.” Dad sighed. We were both emotionally wrung out. I was exhausted and needed another pain pill.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. My parents were always proud of us kids and were free with compliments, but this- what my dad just said- I will never forget this moment as long as I live.

  “But Cole, you can’t be afraid of love.”

  “Dad-”

  “No, now hear me out. I know it isn’t easy. It never is, but these circumstances with Joie, all that the two of you have been through together. It makes a little sense now.”

  I snorted. “I’m glad you get it, because I sure don’t.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m here. To tell you the things you don’
t know.” Dad grinned.

  “Hmm. I thought that was mom’s job.” I raised my brow, smirking at him.

  “Ha. No, mom’s job is to tell me the stuff I don’t know, so I can impart that wisdom to you.”

  We shared a smile knowing that was the truth.

  “Look, I can’t tell you what to do or how to respond, but I can tell you this- you will never be able to completely give yourself to another relationship until you get this one with Joie resolved, whatever that may mean.”

  I shook my head. “Dad-”

  “I mean it. I watched you all through high school. Broken hearted because your best friend didn’t want anything to do with you. Dating girls you didn’t give a hang about. Then that play. Those months with Joie- it was the happiest I’d seen you in years. You need to figure this out, son, before it ruins you.” Dad glanced around my room at the destruction I’d rendered. “It’s never a good idea to let things fester. And this has festered for a long time already, too long.”

  Dad sat quietly, staring ahead for a bit before slapping his huge hand down on my knee.

  “Let’s get this mess fixed before your mom gets home. I’m not sure either of us have the energy to deal with that this evening.”

  I knew he was right. About mom. And about other things.

  Chapter 30

  Joie

  “Hey, we’re going bowling. Wanna come?” Jemma breezed through the door of our apartment, dropping her backpack just inside and kicking off her shoes.

  “Bowling?” Ugh. No. I just wanted to remain where I was, curled up on the couch with the new young adult paranormal romance I’d downloaded on my tablet.

  “Come on, it will be fun. Malcolm’s coming.” Jemma wiggled her eyebrows.

  “No, thanks. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.” Malcolm was nice, but I was still struggling with all my emotions about Cole. He never did respond to my text and I’d been too chicken to send another. It had been hard enough to send the first one after such a long time. I wasn’t going to bother him sending another when he obviously didn’t want to hear from me.

  “Yeah, well, I think that ship would sail right back given an ounce of encouragement,” Jemma called from her bedroom.

  “I’m good.” And I was. Mostly.

  “Liar.” Jemma plopped down on the couch, a clean pair of socks in her hand.

  “It’s true. I am perfectly happy to stay here and read.” And I was. Mostly. The other part of me, that part that wasn’t perfectly happy, wanted to jump a plane and go to South Bend.

  “Still nothing?” Jemma knew about the text, knew about Cole now. I’d spilled my guts over a few pints of Ben and Jerry’s a couple of nights ago. I didn’t tell her all of it, not about my mom and dad, just about Cole.

  I shook my head. “It’s okay. I just wish I knew how he was doing. Football has been his life. His dream for so long.” I let my words drift away. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It was easier to get lost in the make-believe lives of others.

  Jemma slid her feet into her shoes and picked up her jacket from the back of the couch. “Well, I’m still worried about you. I know you don’t want to go bowling, but we need to plan something for this weekend. Dallas has to work on Saturday, let’s go get pedicures or something.”

  With Jemma, a pedicure could solve anything that ailed you. “Yeah, that sounds amazing, actually.”

  “Okay, it’s a girl date then. See you later. Don’t wait up,” she said with a wink over her shoulder as she breezed out the door.

  Picking tablet up off my lap, I tried to get back into the story, but memories and worries about Cole kept slipping in, distracting me. Deciding to give up for a little while, I went to the kitchen to make some popcorn. For Jemma it was pedicures, for me- popcorn. I chose a microwave bag of kettle corn and waited for it to pop. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I opened the app to find more books to read. I really should be working on my own stories, but I hadn’t been motivated to write in a while.

  Ding!

  It was a message.

  From Cole.

  A shot of adrenaline pulsed through my body and I started shaking. The message had displayed briefly at the top of the screen, just long enough to know it was from Cole, but then had gone away.

  Taking a deep breath, I waited for my popcorn to finish. When the time between popping kernels slowed down, I opened the microwave and dumped the popcorn into a plastic bowl. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a cold Dr. Pepper, because what good was popcorn without it?

  By the time I made it back to my seat in the living room, I was trembling so badly it was a wonder I didn’t dump the popcorn. I set the bowl and my drink on the coffee table before gingerly lowering myself onto the couch.

  I just stared at the home screen on my phone. The little message icon had a red badge with a little number one in it. That’s it, one little message from Cole and I was reduced to a shaking, psycho mess. I set my phone on the table beside my snacks and let my head fall into my palms. I wanted this, didn’t I? Hadn’t I been waiting for days for something from Cole?

  But I knew, I knew it was easier for me when he ignored me. Then I could pretend it was all over. That we would never be friends again and I could just get over this, this, whatever this was! I could believe Cole would never forgive me for the way I’d left him, for the ways I’d hurt him. And it was easier that way, right?

  Glancing down at my phone, I had to blink away the tears that had collected in my eyes to even see the darn thing. I was scared. What did it say? What did it mean? Did Cole hate me? Had he forgiven me even though I’ve never said I was sorry, at least not until that text.

  Reaching for my phone, I snatched it off the table and pushed the button to open the home screen once more. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I opened my messages and tapped on the message from Cole.

  Hey.

  And then I burst into tears.

  Cole

  I’d been staring at my phone screen for twenty minutes since I sent that text to Joie. One word. One tiny little word, but I knew she’d seen it. The read receipt said she’d opened it ten minutes ago. Why didn’t she respond? She reached out to me. Good hell. It was like middle school all over again. Weren’t we adults, for crying out loud? I refused to feel bad about not responding to her for so long. She deserved it. Hadn’t I done enough? Hadn’t I done enough to prove to her how I felt, how much I loved her?

  Yes.

  I had.

  If it took twenty minutes or twenty years, no way would I reach out to her again. The ball was in her court.

  Sighing, I tossed my phone down to the end of my bed. I needed to stop obsessing about this. But I couldn’t. Her stupid text message was all I could think about. Then tonight, I just couldn’t stop myself. It was like I was possessed. Like someone else was moving my fingers to type. To tap send.

  Damn.

  Closing my eyes, I started counting. Maybe I could fall asleep.

  Ding!

  Eyes popping open, I scrambled to sit up and retrieve my phone from the tangle of blankets at the bottom of my bed.

  I stared at the screen.

  Hey.

  Really. That was all she had. Rolling my eyes, I was tempted to toss my phone at the wall again, but I’d just shelled out money for this new one, so I refrained. Barely.

  Then, I heard another ding.

  How are you feeling? Your shoulder I mean?

  I admit, it did my heart good to know she was concerned about my shoulder. We didn’t have to have communicated in the last two years for her to know what losing football meant to me.

  It’s getting better. It still sucks, but it’s healing.

  Gosh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I really am. I know how much you love football.

  Thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.

  I know you will. Do you know what you’re going to do now?

  Finish this semester first, then figure it out. Can’t really afford Notre Dame without the scholarship.

  Man,
that just really sucks. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I keep saying that! I mean it though.

  I know you do.

  I should let you go.

  Can I text you again? Like later. Tomorrow? To see how you are or something?

  Jo.

  I’m sorry. I won’t bug you. I was just really worried about you. I couldn’t stop wondering how you were. Are.

  Jo. Stop. You are not bugging me. You could never bug me. Well, maybe you could, but it would be hard.

  You can text me anytime you want.

  Ok. Well. Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.

  Ok. Night.

  Night.

  For the first time in years, I fell asleep with a Joie induced smile on my face.

  The next day, I had physical therapy in the morning. My arm was doing better. I could eat by myself now and drive my car. I wondered if the doctors were right about me never playing again, but I was slowly beginning to believe them. Even though I was regaining range of motion, I still had numbness and weird shooting nerve pain. I knew I would never throw the ball again, at least not with the speed or accuracy I used to. I was a hard pill to swallow, but I was trying.

  The hardest thing to think about, apart from the whole Joie situation, was what to do next. I’d been doing general education classes for my first two years at Notre Dame and had finally declared myself a business major this fall. The classes were hard, but I was holding my own. The bad news was I hated them. In fact, I hated school. I only ever was motivated at school because of football and without that, I didn’t know what to do.

  I heard a knock on my door followed by my mom’s head peeking in.

  “Hey, there, kiddo.”

  “What’s up? Come in.” I wondered what she wanted, it wasn’t often she knocked on my door and when she did she never hesitated. And she was hesitating.

  Mom opened the door and came into my room, her eyes taking in every messy inch of it.

  “I’ll work on cleaning up today,” I promised, feeling like I was fifteen instead of twenty.