by Hannah Gray
I plaster on my best grin. Even if it is fake, he doesn’t need to know that. “Right back at you, man. I’m proud of you for taking this season seriously. We couldn’t have done it without you, man. Whoever drafts you is a lucky son of a bitch.”
He grins. “Fucking right they are, man. Maybe we’ll go to the same team. Actually, no, fuck that. You want to be a Patriot, and I am ready to get out of this fucking cold weather.” With that, he’s off to the next guy, smashing chests together in midair.
I shake my head and look up to find Coach making his way over.
“This team’s not going to be the same without you, boy. You’re a big reason why we’ve made it this far.”
“Shit, Coach, you getting emotional on me?” I grin.
His expression returns to its usual stoic expression. “You ever decide you don’t want to play anymore, you come back here for a coaching position. You’re one of the few I’d hand the reins over to.”
I smile and nod. “Thanks, Coach. But we both know I’m meant to be out on the field.” Though I’ll admit, it feels pretty fucking awesome to have someone believe in you as much as the coach does in me.
“I figured you’d say that. Still had to try.” He slaps me on the back and walks away when he sees my father approaching.
“Good game, son. That was really something, watching you lead your team to victory. After that game, I have no doubt in my mind you’ll be drafted first round.”
It still catches me off guard when he says things that are, well, fatherly. But these last few weeks, our relationship has improved drastically. I sense in his voice that he’s still a little uncomfortable, giving the compliment. Which I get because, honestly, I am still uncomfortable with receiving them from him. I’m sure, with time, it will all get a little easier. Here’s to hoping anyway.
Cameran
I had the day off, so I pulled the game up on my computer and watched. It’s still the same for me. If he’s close to getting sacked, I bite my nails. If he gets sacked and doesn’t jump up in zero-point-two seconds, I start pacing the room. If he makes a power move, I thrust my fist into the air and hoot and holler. At the end of the day, I want nothing more than to watch him succeed.
Anna had to work today, which is good in a way because I usually don’t tell her that I watch the games. We’ve made a few new friends down the hall, and they are sweethearts. Instead of going to fraternity or football parties, we just have margarita night and watch movies. It’s actually really freaking nice to have friends. Sure, sometimes, I wonder what’s going on at the football parties and what Trent’s up to. But I know that’s not a healthy thing for me to focus on right now. When I was with Alex, I wasn’t allowed to have friends. Any friends I had made prior to him, I was forced to push them away. I know Trent would never ask me to do that, but I just want to learn who I am without another person. I want to be a good friend.
Does part of me wonder if someone will swoop in and take him away? Sort of. But if I’m going to be completely honest, I know we belong to each other. Our souls will forever be indebted to one another, and even if it doesn’t happen in this lifetime, I am certain it will happen in another, as it has in many lifetimes before.
The camera zooms in on him and the coach. Who looks so proud of his team and of his quarterback. Trent looks proud too. Maybe he’s not over-the-moon happy right now, but I know he’s having a good day. And that is all I need to make myself have a good day.
forty-two
Trent
Draft Day
Mason paces the kitchen for, I’d say, oh, probably the twentieth time. I chuckle and take a swig of my beer.
Jerking my chin up, I say, “What the fuck is going on with you, man? You know your phone’s going to ring.”
Still pacing, he shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. There are a lot of other good wide receivers out there.” He pauses, realizing he’s being too serious for himself. “I mean, probably not as good as me, but we don’t know what they are looking for. Fuck, man. My hands are so sweaty.”
“They are looking for the best. That’s you. You talked to Lane at all?”
He shakes his head again. “Nah, man, not today. That fucking sucks about his dad. I hope he gets the call from somewhere close to his family.”
Lane flew home for the draft. His father found out a few months ago that he has Lou Gehrig’s disease, and he’s declining fast. The plan was to have all of us here for draft day, but Lane figured he’d better fly home and spend it there with his parents and his two brothers.
Mason throws his hands up. “How the fuck are you so calm? I don’t get it.”
I hear Carla’s voice behind me. “Because he’s amazing. He knows he’s getting that call. You both are.”
I smile as Carla comes in for a hug. One thing I’ve realized about my dad’s girlfriend is, lady likes to hug.
At first, it was pretty weird, him having a girlfriend when I had never seen him with anyone of the opposite sex besides my mom. But she’s actually awesome. Her husband died eight years ago when her daughter was twelve. Her daughter is actually a student here at NEU. I’ve met her a few times at family things. She seems nice enough. She’s pretty, so I am hoping to keep her away from my teammates today. Luckily, she’s running late, so they haven’t seen her yet to start hounding me.
I walk out on the back lawn and take a seat in front of the firepit. I remember the night I brought Cam back here. All it took was me trying to get close to her at all, and she spooked so fast and took off running. She was so beautiful with the fire lighting her face. Since the class we had together ended in December, I really haven’t seen her. It’s as if she were a ghost. I don’t go to The Atlantic much either because I’m trying to give her the space she begged and pleaded for, even if it guts me inside. Every day, I wonder if this might be the day that she’s finally had the space and time she needed to herself, and she will show up at my door. Every day, I’m disappointed when she doesn’t.
My mind wanders to my mother. I bet she’d be damn happy to know Dad finally got his head out of his ass. I’m sure my grandparents are too. If this was really my dream, which it is, they would want it to come true for me. They just never wanted me to do anything strictly out of my dad pushing me to.
I pull my phone out, checking the time. In a few minutes, some lucky bastard will get that first call. I push up out of the lawn chair. Some of these people came for me, so I’d better appreciate them. Even if all I want to do is mope around, consumed with self-pity. Hell, even Coach came and brought his wife and kids. Of course, whenever either of them even says a word to one of the guys here, Coach practically growls at them. I guess if I had a daughter, I’d do the same.
I open the sliding glass door and make my way to the living room, dropping down on the couch, next to my dad’s brother and his wife. When I was younger, I never saw them much because they always lived so far away, but a few months ago, they moved to Connecticut, so we get to see them more often. It’s nice to have more family after so many years of not.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I try not to act too excited in case it isn’t the draft calling. I look down at the number—Massachusetts area code.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Trent Kade?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This is Coach Bill Belichick with the New England Patriots. How’s it going?”
“Going good, sir.”
“Well, I think it’s about to get even better. How would you like to be the first pick in round one of the draft?”
I put my hand on my forehead and lean over. “Are you kidding me?”
“Also, how’d you like to be the New England Patriots’ newest quarterback?”
“That would be a dream, sir. I can’t even … I can’t … is this actually happening?”
“Yes, it is. Now, you go celebrate with your family. We’ll talk soon. Oh, and, Trent?”
“Yes, Coach?”
“Welcome to the NFL.”<
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My arm falls to my side, and I drag the other one down my face. This is fucking insane. I just got chosen number one in the entire fucking draft. And to none other than my number one pick. I feel like I must be dreaming.
Cameran’s smiling face flashes through my mind. Goddamn it, I wish she were here. She’d make this day even more of a dream come true.
I consider pulling my phone out to let her know I made it, but I haven’t seen or spoken to her in months. I need to respect her wishes.
I turn toward my very quiet living room, filled with faces carefully watching me. Turning the Trent Kade everyone knows back on, I hold my arms out. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, you’re looking at New England’s newest quarterback.”
Everyone erupts into cheers. All walking up to me to shake my hand, slap me on the back, or if you’re like Carla, give me a big bear hug.
“Thanks, everyone. A lot of you in this room had a key part in getting me this far.”
Coach walks over, holding out his hand. “Nonsense, Kade. You had the heart to be what it takes to make it to the NFL. You did this.”
I grin at him. This man has worked countless hours with me the past four years, and he’s made me twice the player I was before. The other guy standing on my side, grinning like a fool, well, he might have treated me like shit for most of my life, but he also shaped me into being NFL material. Without him pushing me to every football camp and clinic that was within a hundred-mile radius, I wouldn’t have gotten as infatuated with the game.
“I have never said it enough, Trent, but I’m damn proud of you, son. You’re twice the football player I ever was.”
I’m not sure if that’s true or not. My father was one hell of a player. The one thing we don’t have in common is, I have come to peace with the fact that there will come a day when I can’t do it anymore.
I shift on my feet. “Thanks, Dad. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”
Regret flashes across his face. “We both know I pushed you too hard. I’m still sorry for that.”
“Water under the bridge. It’s all good.”
A few minutes later, I hear a cell phone ringing. I look over and see Mason looking down at the phone looking like he might actually puke. He finally answers, and after a few minutes of talking to whoever it is, he hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket.
The room is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
He looks around the room. “Well, everyone … you’re looking at the newest wide receiver for the New York Giants.”
He almost seems like he doesn’t believe the words. I know the feeling.
Walking over to him, I grab his shoulder. “We made it, old boy. We fucking made it.”
He wipes his eyes. The moment we’ve both worked almost our entire lives for is here.
“Yeah, we did, brother. Yeah, we fucking did.”
After we all cheers and celebrate for a while longer, I excuse myself from the conversation and head outside to let Lane know the news. It fucking blows he can’t be here, but I know he’s where he needs to be.
He answers on the first ring. “Draft pick number one! My fucking boy, Trent Kade.”
I grin into the phone from hearing his excitement for me.
“Tell Mase I said congratulations, man.”
I nod. “Thanks. I will. I know we’ll be hearing where you got drafted real soon. I just know it.”
“Dude, I sure hope so. I’m getting a little nervous over here. Though, I have to say, I hope I don’t get drafted somewhere cold as fuck, like you and Mase did. I’m thinking warm thoughts, brother.”
I’m about to say something back to reassure him because I know how talented the guy is, but he cuts me off, “A weird number’s calling me, man. I gotta go! Congrats.” And with that, he hangs up the phone.
Heading back inside, I join the party.
A few minutes later, a group text from Lane comes through to Mason and me.
Lane: Tampa Bay Buccaneers bitches! Have fun peeling those icicles off your nutsacks. I’ll be enjoying the sun!
Mason: Congrats, man. But I’ll be honest. You’re going to sweat your balls off.
Me: Congratulations, asshole. Going to miss ya though.
This will forever be one of the best days of my life, and Cam isn’t here. She missed it because she needed to find herself. And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure that’s something I’ll ever forgive her for.
forty-three
Cameran
May
My phone vibrates yet again. Another message from Anna, I’m sure. She’s pissed at me—to put it nicely. And I get it; I really do. She thought we’d attend our graduation ceremony together and then party. I’m just not feeling it. Growing up, I always assumed my parents would be present on big days like today. Yet they missed my high school graduation and now my college graduation.
As selfish as it sounds—and trust me, I know it’s selfish—I don’t want to look at Anna and all the others with their parents surrounding them for those corny graduation pictures. I would give anything to be able to capture moments like that with my mom and dad.
Then, there’s the other side of it. You know, the certain dirty-blond-haired, buff, tattooed body, and sexy-smirk part of it. I’m just not up to seeing him. I can’t handle it. I know me. I’d want to run right back to his arms, and it’s not time for that.
These past six months, I have made more friends, kept steady sessions with my therapist, taken up hiking, taken a few baking and cooking classes, and also found myself a job and an adorable apartment.
At first, I was nervous with the thought of living on my own and away from Anna. She decided that after this summer, she’s going to pack up and move to New York City, in hopes of landing her dream job as a graphic designer. Her parents weren’t thrilled, to put it lightly, but she is taking her life back and choosing what would be most fulfilling for her. I’m going to miss the hell out of her. But I can already see her now, thriving in the city that never sleeps.
I decided teaching was what I wanted to do with my life after all. It just took me a bit longer to figure out. The most adorable little school, just twenty-five minutes outside of Boston, needed a kindergarten teacher, and I got the job. I lucked out big time. The school did something they wouldn’t normally do, and they hired me before I even graduated. I was filling some of my requirements needed for graduation by volunteering in classrooms and fell in love with this one in particular. As fate would have it, the kindergarten teacher was retiring after this year, and you could say it was a perfect fit, I guess. The town is small and quaint. Then, I can pop into Boston on weekends for shopping. It’s perfect. Almost perfect anyway.
I feel myself healing each and every day. Though I know now, that being healed after the trauma I have experienced isn’t a destination but rather something I will have to work at for the rest of my life.
Trent got drafted to the New England Patriots. Just like he always dreamed of. I never doubted him for a second though. He is one of those people who can do anything he sets his mind to, and for that, I hold him in such high regard.
The thing I have realized these past six months is that you can meet the perfect person at the wrong time. And that’s okay. But if it’s the wrong time because you mentally and emotionally cannot give them what they need and deserve, then you have to let them go. Even if it sucks—and trust me, it freaking sucks. But I have figured out I am much stronger than I ever knew I was, and that is reassurance that I am doing the right thing. I’m just so sorry it hurt the one person I least wanted to hurt in the process.
So, here I sit. On this pier in the town Trent grew up in. The place where he brought me for the first time and told me he had, too, lost his mom. It somehow felt like it connected us deeper in some way. Not everyone knows the feeling of losing a parent at a young age. We unfortunately both do.
I saved enough money from waitressing that I was able to get a car. It’s not much, but it gives me a certain feeling of
independence I haven’t felt in a long time. So, today, I decided to drive the forty-five minutes here and spend the day walking around the streets that shaped Trent. I know I’m not ready to be with him. So, this is something that is at least helping me to feel close to him. I hope his dad is at the graduation, cheering his son on, like he deserves.
forty-four
Trent
February, Two Years Later
The camera lights flash, and hundreds of eyes watch my every move. These press conferences always feel like a damn interrogation. I don’t like to sound unappreciative, but it’s a lot. I want to celebrate with my team, and I know this is all part of it. We need to answer these people’s questions, but shit, it’s a fucking lot.
I turn on my best Trent Kade charm and greet the crowd.
“Trent, this is only your second NFL season, and your team just won their first Super Bowl. How does it feel?”
“It feels incredible. I’m so proud to be a part of this team. Each and every one of us poured out heart and soul out in that field to take home the W. So, yeah, it feels awesome.”
I nod to the next person, a scrawny bald reporter with glasses.
“Yes, Mr. Kade. What could you say about this team you played tonight compared to other teams?”
“This team played a great game. They had a strong defense, but Cole really rose to the challenge tonight and was able to get around them. I’m very proud to work with someone like Cole Coffin. He’s one hell of a player.”
After countless questions, I’m finally done and excused from the vultures. I know; I’m an ungrateful prick. I never let my fans or the reporters know that I’m overwhelmed by them. Hell, the world thinks I am cut out for this shit. In reality, after the games are over, all I want is to go relax with the guys and put back a few beers.
This really is a dream come true though. Last year, we lost the Super Bowl in the last thirty seconds of the final quarter. Yeah, that fucking blew.