by Imani King
“Ouch!” I yell. “What the fuck, Paul? Do you do this to the other guys, or am I just special?”
“Breathe through the pain, like I taught you, Gryphon,” he cautions me. “If you resist, it’ll just tighten you up even more.”
“All right, all right,” I say. “You’re killing me over here, man.” I shift on the table as he stops his full body torture for a moment and switches to a quick massage. “You know a session with you is worse than getting sacked?”
“I take pride in my work,” he jokes, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Where would you be without me, Gryphon James?”
“Too true,” I say. “But I wish I could go there sometimes.”
“Not right now you don’t,” he says. “I can get you in tip top shape for the next game, but you have to follow my orders.” He pats my ass. “Ok, Griff, time to get up and get to the sauna and steam room. Then you do laps in the pool.”
“Yes sir,” I say, and dammit if I don’t feel a little looser as I make my way off the table.
“Thank you, Paul, you’re the best interrogator ever. I swear I’d hand over my grandmother’s secrets the way you torture me.”
“Ve have vays of making you talk,” he says, raising an eyebrow and twirling an imaginary mustache. “Now off to the sauna with you.”
The hot, dry wood of the planks feels incredible against all the sore spots. I lay down on the planks, stretching out to my full length. I can’t say it isn’t nice to get the full spa treatment. But when you know it only serves to get your body back to the point of being able to push it to the limit over and over again versus just taking take a week off, it’s rough.
My mind wanders back to University as I lay there in the steam room. I wish I could talk to my old teammates right now. Maybe Brando Young. He always did well with the ladies and was always dispensing good advice. Or Jackson Reeves. That guy was probably the worst wingman in existence, but there was something about him that just resonated with me. We would sit around and drink beer and puzzle our way through the place we had found ourselves. A fancy college for two guys who didn’t have the best of childhoods. We didn’t say all that much, rather just shared a certain kinship because of our similar pasts. It was just something we could sense. Jackson was popular with ladies. I think they found that dark brooding quiet thing he had going on pretty attractive in a mysterious kind of way.
“I’m seeing this girl,” I can imagine myself saying. “But she’s a fancy lawyer, and I’m just not sure it could ever work out. You know what I mean? She’s too good for me.”
“Too good for you,” I can hear him saying, taking a swig of that bottle. “Griff. What does that even mean?”
It’s a good point. What does that mean? I wish I could have someone work out the knots in my mind like Paul works out the knots in my muscles. What does that even mean? I’ve made something of myself, just like she did. She’s never gone out of her way to try to make me feel lesser than her, so why should I?
You’re one of, maybe even the best QB in the league right now, I tell myself. The only one who’s really on your level is Kaden Barlow, another Brooks U guy. I never felt quite as close to him as I did to Jackson. Kaden’s killing it down in Little Falls though, and I’m proud of him.
I wonder if any of those guys ever worry about being good enough for the kinds of women you meet when you’re pulling in the salaries we are? I sink into the wooden planks further, my muscles softening.
“We’re all worth the same thing, man,” I hear Jackson’s quiet voice again. “We’re born alone, and we die alone, and we deal with what we have to along the way. It’s all in how you treat people. Just try to be decent to each other. Like she’s been to you.”
It starts to become clear to me. Odell’s been good to me this entire time, and it’s only my insecurities that made things awkward between us.
“If you like her, you like her. Treat her like it.”
He’s right, this imaginary Jackson I have in my mind after all these years. I just need to treat Odell the best I can every day, and whatever we build will be real.
There’s a knock at the door, and then it opens.
“Wake up sleepyhead,” says Paul. “Time for the pool, then whirlpool, and you should be as good as new.”
I ease myself up on one elbow. “Just five more minutes?” I ask in my most charming voice.
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me, champ. Get your million-dollar ass in the pool! I’ll be timing you.”
25
Odell
“All right, Miss Williams,” says the nurse, peering at me through her glasses. “Please take a seat, and we’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
I sit on one of the hard plastic chairs, looking around at the collection of people in the waiting room. Nobody seems too poorly off except for one old woman who keeps calling for an “Arthur.” I hope that means they’ll see me quickly. I need to know I’m ok and that this baby is going to be ok.
I pull out my phone again to check for a text or message from Griff, but there’s nothing.
“Griff, please call me, it’s serious. I’m pregnant,” I text again, and stare in vain at the screen to see if he’s typing back, but there’s nothing but a little alert saying the message was delivered.
There’s not much pain, thank heaven, but the blood is frightening. Part of me hopes they don’t call my name soon because that would mean that things might not be too grave after all.
“Odell Williams,” I hear the nurse call. So much for that, I guess. I stand up and clutch my purse to me. I didn’t have time to go home to change, but at least I had an emergency pad stashed in my purse. Hopefully I won’t bleed all over everything.
Griff, where are you?
I follow the nurse through big swinging doors. “Just wait here and the doctor will be with you.”
“Nurse, is it something really dangerous?” I can’t help but ask.
“No way to tell without the doctor seeing you,” she says. “Could be, but it could also be nothing. Just sit tight and try to be patient.”
“Thank you,” I answer as she smiles kindly.
“That’s my job,” she grins. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
After a bunch of tests, they’re still not sure what’s causing the bleeding. They’ve just told me that they’re going to keep me overnight to make sure I’m not going to miscarry. I wish I had my things, but I’ll have to make do with whatever I have stashed in my purse, and the huge old pads that they stock in the bathrooms.
When I finally get a chance to check my phone there’s still nothing from Griff. I decide to tell him to come to the hospital. “Griff, I’m at Mercy. Please come.” But still, no three dots appear to tell me he’s writing back.
With each passing moment, I feel more alone in this place. This small room, with its sterile beds, strange old patterned curtains, and nothing to look at. I flip on the television and it’s on a sports channel. Before long, Griff’s face is up on the screen as they discuss the injuries he sustained the last game.
“You’re going to sustain another injury if you don’t show up soon,” I whisper to the television Gryphon. “Answer my texts, would you please?”
I let the announcers drone on about what this injury means for him as I pull the meager covers up around me and try to get comfortable. Maybe Gryphon was more hurt than I thought. Either that or it’s a slow sports news day? They seem to think that he’s getting old. Well, not too old to come see his girlfriend and his baby, that’s for sure. If I even am his girlfriend. I wish they’d talk about what this situation means to our relationship. That’s a play-by-play I’m interested in.
“I need you Griff, please come,” I whisper to the pillow and then close my eyes to sleep.
26
Gryphon
When I finally get out of the PT’s clutches, it’s evening, and I feel a hundred times better than before. Paul might run a torture chamber, but it does make a person feel like new. I know
I can face the game on Sunday, which in turn relaxes my mind—and when I’m relaxed I can’t help but think of seeing Odell and her sweet body. Talking to her, listening to her, being with her, fucking her. Most of all feeling safe with her, which has never happened to me with a woman. I know I can trust Odell, and I’m starting to truly believe that we can make something real out of what we have.
I grab my phone out of my bag to give her a call and am surprised to see a bunch of texts. I quickly scan them. “Mercy? Like the hospital?” I shove my phone back in my pocket and jump in the car. “Pregnant!” My mind reels as every priority I have ever had suddenly reorders itself in my consciousness.
The woman I love and my baby are in the hospital! And I’ve been in physical therapy like some kind of goddamned hothouse flower!
“You have to let me in,” I say. The nurse peers at me. “I need to see her. It’s my baby.”
“You wish to see Miss Williams,” she says. Am I imagining things, or did she put an extra emphasis on ‘Miss?’ “Visiting hours are ending.” Her voice is cold, and her eyes above her spectacles colder.
I seize the opportunity. “Ending?” I say. “Does that mean that they’re not quite over?”
“They’re ending,” she says firmly. “It means that they’re ending.”
I look up at the clock and see that it’s five minutes until eight, so I should still have five minutes. I could raise a ruckus and force myself into Odell’s room, or I could charm my way in. As a quarterback, I’ve learn to go for openings. I lean on the desk, and smile the kind of smile that has been getting me out of trouble since I got to Brooks.
“Miss—” I start.
“Reynolds,” she answers coldly. But she answers. It’s something.
“Miss Reynolds,” I say in my best drawl. “I’m sure you’re the kind of woman who can take pity on a man like me.” I run my hands through my hair and look up at her. “A man who was stuck at work all day and now needs to see his special lady and their baby. A man who just wants to make sure the most important ladies in the world to him are going to be ok.”
She stares at me, and I crinkle my eyes at the corners, pleading.
“Okay,” she relents. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. Room 315,” she says as I take off toward the elevators. “Five minutes, Mr. James!”
“Thank you!” I shout. Well what a surprise, she knows my name. Must be a football fan, I say to myself as I jump through the doors just as they slide shut. “Though she might be rooting for the other team.”
“Odell!” I rush into the bare room, where she lays, looking so small on the hospital bed.
“Griff?” she asks. “Griff, you’re here!”
I pull up a chair to sit by her, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Of course I am! Baby, are you ok?” I ask.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.” Her voice is smaller than usual, but her expression is warm.
“I got in the car just as soon as I got your message.” I kiss her. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice faltering. A tear rolls down her cheek as she closes her eyes. “They’ve done a whole bunch of tests. Sorry,” she apologizes, wiping her face. I kiss the tears away.
“Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“They’ve done tests, and I have to stay overnight,” she says. “I guess we’ll find out in the morning.”
“Are you and the baby going to be ok?” I search her face for any clue.
“I don’t know,” she answers. “I hope so.”
“Odell, why didn’t you call me, call the league, do whatever you could to get in touch with me? I would have come right quick if I had known anything was wrong!” He shakes his head. “I was stuck in PT all day because of my injuries. A text message doesn’t always reach me in time.”
“Well, I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you,” she replies softly. “A lot of things are changing for me right now, and I know you’re dealing with a lot too.” She pauses. “And I wasn’t sure you would want to be that involved.”
“Of course, I want to be involved!” I say. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” And as I say it, I know it’s true. “I don’t want you to worry, babe. I’m going to give you any and all possible numbers you need to get in touch with me, even if I’m running down the field making the winning touchdown at the Superbowl!”
“Oh Griff,” she says, before dissolving into tears again.
“They’ll pull me off the field, and I’ll be at your side. I’m here for you and the baby, Odell.” I say firmly. “You both are my first priority.”
“Hey,” she says. “They were talking about you on the news. How are you feeling?”
I smile. What a sweetheart she is. In the hospital waiting for results, and she’s worried about my football injuries.
“I’ll be fine, baby,” I tell her, but inside my heart is swelling with love. “You concentrate on yourself right now. For you and the baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.”
“Mercy Hospital visitors,” interrupts the voice over the loudspeaker. “It is now eight o’ clock p.m. and visiting hours have ended.”
“Do you have to go, Griff?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.
“I’m staying until they kick me out,” I tell her, putting my arm around her back and leaning my forehead against hers. “I love you, Odell.” The words escape my lips before I realize it and can stop them.
She looks at me, stunned. “Griff,” she answers. “I love you too.”
I have to clear my throat a few times to mask the tears that are threatening to fill my eyes. I hoped a day would come where Odell feels the same way about me as I do toward her, and here it is.
I catch her lips in a long, slow, tender kiss. When we pull apart, she holds my hand to her face.
“You’re sure we can do it, Griff?” She asks softly. “Do you think we can make it together?”
“If anyone can, it’s us,” I tell her. “You and I have achieved a lot in our lives, gotten to the pinnacle of our careers, and if we can’t manage to parlay that into a great relationship, I don’t know who could. We will build it, one day at a time.” I mean every word, every syllable, every letter of every word from the bottom of my heart. Odell and the baby will always be first.
“I hope the baby is ok,” she whispers.
“Me too.” It’s strange, having Odell in my life, and now a baby, has changed everything for me. To try to make a family is now my only goal. And I am going to hit it through the posts if it takes everything I’ve got.
Epilogue
Odell
I continually thank heaven everything turned out all right with the baby. Thinking back, it was touch and go for a while in the hospital, but due to all the doctors’ work and care, she was able to be stabilized, and all I had to do was to stay in bed for a few weeks to let her get settled and then I was up and at ‘em again. The stress I had been under for the weeks leading up to that moment certainly hadn’t been helping, so a few weeks of daytime TV in Gryphon’s big, comfortable bed was just what the doctor ordered for the baby and me to be healthy and happy.
Griff was sweet and caring, bringing me take out after his first attempts at cooking didn’t quite meet his standards. He’d come back from practice with Chinese, or Thai, or something fresh and serve it to me in bed, as we caught up on some old movies.
I knew my career wasn’t going to end, but it did have to change of course; my life had been jiggled and jostled into a new form. Leaving the firm was obviously something that would have happened anyway, but I might have waited around for years before I got the courage to make a real move, so getting kicked out, and getting pregnant were the lessons life handed me to learn that. And more, of course. So much more. Life brought me what I needed to take that big step. Now that Gryphon is beside me, and he knows that we are going to be a family, I can face the world. Fighting by myself, alone, it was almost too hard, but toge
ther, I think we have a chance.
Like he says, Gryphon’s football career isn’t going to last forever, and once it’s over, he can go into coaching, or he can “rest on his laurels” as he says, and start his career as a stay-at-home dad. Maybe coach high school, when our son is ready for it. He likes dreaming about what he’ll do ‘after he wins the Super Bowl.’ Immediately after, of course, we’re going to Disneyland and bringing our little guy.
Now that Little Ryan is almost one year old, he is really starting to develop his personality. He’s a beautiful baby with a big smile and giggle, and he’s hitting all the percentiles in terms of size and the stages of growth and all that. Gryphon says he’s got his body, and my mind. That could be a pretty unstoppable combination, we think. But I want to make sure he knows that he doesn’t have to be a carbon copy of us. I want to support him in being his own person and doing his own thing, whatever that might be.
My parents visited from Europe the other week to see the new house, and to see Ryan again, and they were telling me how Ryan needs to follow in his granddad’s footsteps, but I set them straight. “Look where that got me,” I say.
“Fired!” Gryphon laughs and gives me a hug.
“Well technically, I quit,” I say, squeezing him back. “But, yeah, fired pretty much.”
“Best thing that ever happened to you, babe,” he says, hugging me closer with one big arm. “Now you can do everything you ever wanted.”
“And what’s more, now I have a reason to do it,” I say. I pat my stomach slyly for Griff’s benefit, but my mom sees and catches on.
“Wait a second, Odell, you’re not—” She holds out one hand toward my stomach and the other covers her mouth.
“Actually, I guess I am,” I say looking up at Griff, who smiles as proudly as can be.
“What?” My dad asks. He’s a little clueless when it comes to “lady stuff,” as he calls it.