Going Long (Waiting on the Sidelines)

by Ginger Scott

  When her lips hit mine, it was like morphine, my head going dizzy with relief, and my arms squeezing her to me, suffocating her with my need to not let go. I lifted her off the ground and kissed her for every damn camera in the stadium to capture, finally lowering her and pressing our foreheads together so I could hear her over the frenzy and the buzz.

  “You were amazing, Reed! Amazing!” she said, a little teary eyed with her pride. Fuck the trophy. This was all I needed to know my worth.

  “It was all for you. All for you,” I said, my heart rapid in my chest, and my hands at the side of her face.

  “No, this was for you. You deserve it. I’m so proud of you!” she said, kissing me again, and then snuggling into my side, while my dad and Jason came close to congratulate me now. Eventually, everyone made it to the field. And I’m sure being seen with Brent Nichols had the sports world talking. But I wasn’t going to worry about it tonight. Or tomorrow. Maybe not ever. I had my girl, and I knew what was important now.

  The press conference was carried by every sportscast in the Southwest. My dad, of course, had secured all of the clips. “My dad, the press secretary,” I mused to myself. I spent the rest of the winter break with my family and Noles. The insurance settlement had finally come in on her parents’ house, so it looked like she’d have an actual room to return to for spring break. Of course, her mom had planned to turn it into a library and a guest room, knowing her little girl would probably not be coming back home for good.

  School was starting soon, though it all felt like a formality for me now. I’d still finish, even if I had to do some online work or take in a class here and there. Having a college degree was important to my mom, even if I had a multi-million-dollar football contract. Mom had been trying to engage me more about Nolan. Still not the warm and friendly way she was with others, but she was trying, and I could tell. I had to give her the benefit of time.

  Nolan was taking me out tonight, some surprise date she said she had planned for months, which sort of surprised me, given the rocky road we’d been on. She invited Sean, Becky, Sienna and Sarah, too, so I wasn’t sure how romantic this date would be. When I teased her about it, she just elbowed me and lectured me about how we wouldn’t see everyone as much in the spring, and that friends were important. She was right, and I’d actually miss the hell out of Sean when he went back to California. But I was really hoping like hell I’d land in San Diego, maybe get to see a lot more of my best friend.

  Nolan drove us to some coffee shop in Tempe, right outside ASU’s campus. Sarah followed her there with her car loaded with the rest of their stuff, and Sean trailed behind, my ride home. Sarah, Noles and Sienna would be moving back in at campus after tonight, and the thought of not waking up next to Noles like I’d been doing (behind her father’s back, which I wasn’t very proud of) made me sick. I didn’t want to leave her. And I knew that distance was only going to grow.

  “Kind of a long drive for coffee, no?” Sean joked as we all climbed out of the cars and headed to the front door.

  “We’re not here for the coffee, Sean,” Nolan hissed back, rolling her eyes a little. She seemed nervous, and it was cute on her. “I have some special people that I want you all to meet.”

  I almost had it figured out by the time we got to the small front stage set up at the shop. The place was filled with people—most of them couples. I realized they were all parents, and their children, some of them as young as seven or eight, were the people Nolan was talking about.

  “Hi, everyone. Are you all ready?” She spoke, and the youthful faces just beamed back at her, nodding. She could evoke confidence, and bravery, and belief in even the smallest creature. She had a gift, and it made the world smile. “Okay, well before we start, I want you all to meet my friends. I thought it might help knowing you had some guaranteed cheerers out here…other than me, of course.”

  She winked at them when some of them laughed. Others still looked down, shy and nervous, but Nolan gave them each individual attention, lifting them up until they were looking us in the eyes, too. We all went down the line shaking the hands of Nolan’s students, each battling their own demon, some disability that tried to make some things impossible. But those demons didn’t know who they were dealing with in Nolan. She would win. She always did.

  We all settled in our seats just as the lights dimmed, and a small spotlight lit up the tiny stage. Nolan held a microphone in her hand and welcomed everyone.

  “Thank you all for coming out. This means a lot to me. I’ve spent months with the amazing kids up here tonight. And I think they are going to inspire you. I’m really proud of them, and I know you will be, too. Remember, the most important thing we can do is show them how proud we are with our claps and cheers. The sounds you make will echo in their memory, and the next time they face something hard in life, they’ll remember,” she said, the crowd clapping at her words.

  The first child, a small boy in a wheelchair, came to the mic next. He opened a book and read a humorous story he’d written himself about a magic wheelchair that defended the galaxy at night, forcing him to stay awake to pilot it. His mom would always get angry with him when he was tired during the day and roll her eyes when he told her it was because his chair kept him awake. Of course, all revealed itself when the evil overlord kidnapped his mom, and he had to come to her rescue with his magic chair. The kid’s story was brilliant, and suddenly I felt inadequate that my only talent was throwing a stupid ball.

  Each story, poem or essay was unique and better than the last. The audience cheered loudly, not only out of kindness, but rather genuine awe. Nolan had orchestrated a really special evening, and I was so proud of her. I couldn’t wait to tell her. We were on the last performance, and I could tell this one meant the most to Nolan as she sat on the edge of her small stool in the dark corner by the stage, almost as if she was ready to leap into the spotlight to help the young teen now taking the microphone to finish.

  Her body jerked constantly as she slid the stool up to the microphone stand, sliding carefully to sit atop it. Her facial tics distracted everyone from what was actually a breathtakingly beautiful face—her blonde hair waving around her chin and cheeks, and her blue eyes full of hope and innocence. She had yet to say a word, and I was already in her corner.

  A man, who seemed to be her father, brought a guitar to her and helped her move the strap over her head and shoulder, getting situated and in place. He kissed the top of her head and hopped back down to his seat, grabbing his wife’s hand and squeezing it for courage. I knew that move; I’d seen it, and done it myself.

  “Hi…uh…I’m…I’m…I’m K-K-Kira,” she almost whispered, her nerves already getting the best of her. Nolan just sat there still, nodding and willing her on. “I’m going to…going to…s-s-sing my poem for you.”

  She just smiled softly, and then looked down, wrapping her crooked fingers around the guitar’s neck and body. Somehow, a miracle, she started to strum softly, and the melody was haunting. Beautiful. The room was silent, everyone stunned to silence and afraid all at once. We were all with her, on her team. She wasn’t going to fail if we could help it.

  Then she started to sing, and her stutter disappeared.

  I am not alone. He’s with me in my heart.

  My brother, he never came. But we’ve never been apart.

  I was supposed to be two, but I only came out one.

  The birth, a complication, something done undone.

  My baby brother, by a minute, so I’ve been told.

  But he would never come. We would never hold…

  His tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny everything that no one knows.

  He wasn’t pretend, but real. And something is always hollow.

  We were both a surprise. A gift, mom says.

  We were wanted, just not planned as…

  Most families are.

  And there are times, still today, that we all take turns.

  We all take the burden, blame and burns.


  My fault. Her fault. A punishment, a curse.

  But I know it could be worse.

  For I am not alone. He lives with me in my heart.

  And I could not have even that, and then I’d fall apart.

  The entire room stood and cheered and clapped, amazed and buried in our own tears at the power this tiny, struggling girl held over us all. But my eyes were on my girl, her face devastated, and her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. Kira just found a way to rip away the scars, scars I’d been dancing around, unsure how to deal with myself. And when Nolan bolted from her chair, rushing out the back door, I didn’t waste a second and flew after her.

  I found her on her knees behind a dumpster, her body shaking uncontrollably, and the whaling sounds of her cries not even trying to be masked. I just wrapped my body around hers, holding her arms down and stopping her from trying to free herself of me. We were in this together, this thing she’d been doing alone. She wasn’t ever going to do this alone again.

  “Shhhhhhhhh, I’m here. It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I know…I know,” I whispered, kissing her cheeks and head, and cradling her while I rocked her back-and-forth, my own tears falling uncontrollably now. “I know, and I’m so sorry. God, Nolan. I’m so sorry. But it’s okay, I’m here.”

  She clung to me, her wet face soaking the front of my shirt, her body flat against mine, almost lifeless, but heavy all the same. Her breathing was short and labored. Her shaking not subsiding. “I lost it, Reed. Oh my God!” she started shaking again, her tears coming harder now. I just held on.

  “You didn’t lose anything. You didn’t do anything, you hear me?” I said, begging her to listen to me. “It wasn’t right. It wasn’t meant to be. Something was wrong, and that’s what was supposed to happen. And oh my God, Nolan, I will never forgive myself that you were alone through it all. I’m so sorry, baby. I failed you. God, I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t tell you. I should have told you! Maybe then…” she started, but I stopped her. She was done blaming herself. She had done that enough.

  “No, now listen, Nolan,” I held her face a few inches from mine, my hands in her hair, streaks running all along her face. “This had nothing to do with anything you did…or didn’t do. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

  “But what if I can’t have children? What if I’m…I’m…done?” she started quaking again.

  “You don’t know that. Nolan, you need to talk to someone. You don’t know anything until you talk to someone about this. Talk to me. And then talk to a doctor. Baby, I know it’s scary, but you need to. I love you…so much. But you have to take care of yourself,” I was pleading, trying to reach her. She just stared at me, almost through me. For minutes, I looked into her eyes, taking pauses to wipe the tears away.

  We sat there completely wrapped in one another’s heartbreak, misery, and arms amid piles of trash, and on the cold concrete for minutes. At one point, Sean peered around the corner, worried about where we’d gone. When I caught his attention, I motioned for him to tell the others, and to give us a little more time.

  I was finally able to get Nolan to come inside, the parents and her students all long gone. Sarah and Sienna all handled the awkwardness for us, telling people that Nolan had a stomach bug and ran outside ill. Nolan was so upset that she didn’t get to talk to Kira, who seemed to be an important student for her, but I seemed to ease her mind during the car ride home, telling her that we could call her mom, and maybe even pay her a visit in a day or two.

  I drove Nolan’s car to her dorm, and Sean followed us, helping me to carry everything upstairs for her. He and I had already discussed it, and I was not leaving her alone tonight. Sean and Becky would spend the night on Sarah’s couch, so they could pick me up in the morning to take me back to my dad’s house. I had some important meetings lined up, but not until the late morning. And nothing was more important than being right where I was tonight.

  When everyone left us alone, I turned out Nolan’s lights and went to her bathroom to turn her shower on. I wanted her to feel comfortable and cared for, so I helped her from her clothes and into the shower. It wasn’t about sex or seduction tonight. It was about being there for her, letting her lean on me, in the place I should have been months ago. I washed her hair and soaped her body, washing the makeup stains from her cheeks. I wrapped her in a towel and led her to her bed, sitting her down while I dug through her duffle bag of clothes she’d brought from home. I found the Coolidge football shirt, her favorite, and put it over her head. I pulled a pair of cotton leggings out next and helped her slide those on.

  “My hair. It’s wet,” she sounded so defeated, so melancholy. I pulled the towel from her head slowly and ran my fingers through it. I laid the towel across her pillows and then pulled her big blanket back.

  “It’ll be okay. Here, just lay on this,” I said, easing her back and tucking her under the covers. I pulled my jeans off, and left my boxers and T-shirt on as I slid in next to her and pulled her close. I stroked her face until her eyes finally grew heavy, and I heard the faint hum of her breathing. Tonight was hard. Thinking about it all seemed almost too heavy, and thinking about Nolan working through this alone made me sick to my stomach.

  But as hard as tonight was, it was also important. It had to happen, and I couldn’t find a way to do it on my own. Kira might have just saved us. I know she saved Nolan. There was only healing from here; I’d make sure of that.

  Chapter 16

  Nolan

  “How do you feel about your midterms?” Dr. Ashford asked in her typical soothing voice. It wasn’t her fault she was such a stereotype. I suppose her demeanor was just part of the job description. I liked her, actually. Quite a bit. And I think in many ways she was responsible for my academic turnaround this semester. Reed made me promise to talk to someone, even as much as offering to sit with me while I talked to my mom about my miscarriage. But I couldn’t bring this to her. Not because I didn’t think she could help; I was sure she could. But it would also devastate her. And I wasn’t sure I could survive the look on her face, knowing I’d lost a child, her grandchild. I didn’t have enough strength left inside to handle that.

  “Nolan?” Dr. Ashford asked.

  “Hmmmm? Oh, sorry. I was sort of off somewhere,” I sat up straight and rolled my shoulders back to attention to listen now. “Midterms. Yes…uh…I feel good. Really good, actually.”

  “That’s good to hear,” she nodded, folding her notebook in her lap and clicking her pen closed. “You’re heading home for spring break, for the wedding this week, right?”

  “Yeah. I get to be a bridesmaid. It’s my first wedding. At least, first that I can remember,” I smiled faintly, looking down to my locked fingers in my lap.

  “And Reed…he gets drafted this week, right?” she asked, as if Reed’s draft hadn’t been the center of every conversation we’d had for the last month. I just nodded softly in return, holding my breath for a few seconds before letting it out heavily, with a shrug. “What have we learned, Nolan?”

  I sighed again. I know she meant well, but sometimes therapy felt a lot like nagging. “That I don’t need to waste my positive energy worrying about what ifs,” I said, internalizing my worry and masking it from her, afraid I’d be caught in my little act.

  She just reached forward before she stood and patted my folded hands. “I know you still worry. It’s human, and it would be weird if you didn’t. But…you need to try to rationalize with yourself before you let it take over everything. When you recognize your anxiety, remind yourself that nothing has happened to cause it,” she said, smiling and standing to her feet in her tall black pumps, towering over me by a good six inches.

  I stood and shook her hand, grabbing my bag from the floor and slinging it sideways across my body. I was reaching for her door when she gave me one more piece of advice.

  “Oh, and Nolan?” she said. “Try to have a good time. You’ve earned it.”

  I nodded and left, wondering if I deserv
ed the good times she says I earned.

  Buck and Rosie’s wedding was going to be late Sunday night out at Winter’s Barn. Rosie had made the food herself, prepped it, and hired a few servers to set it up on the wedding day. Everything was country-themed, with a local honky-tonk band and fiddlers for the ceremony, and open fire pits for marshmallow roasting. Sarah, Sienna and I spent the afternoon stringing lights across the barn, and throughout the porch and outdoor dancing area. I couldn’t wait to see it at night.

  Buck and Reed were in Tucson for several interviews after Friday’s draft selection. Reed didn’t win the Heisman. But he was selected fourth overall by San Diego, just like Dylan had predicted months ago. I had grown to respect Dylan, though she would never be someone I’d feel comfortable calling a friend. She was smart, and a real advocate for Reed. Her father, however, was unbelievable. I was in awe watching him at Buck’s house the days before the draft, fielding call after call, and hanging up on offers he didn’t think were worthy of even listening to, only to get call-backs immediately with better terms. A lot of the selection came down to the team’s needs and how the players fell in the order. But there still was negotiating to do, especially off the books—about understood resigning agreements, certain playing time guarantees and performance bonuses. It was all kind of shady, but part of the business, I supposed.

  I kept reminding myself of Dr. Ashford’s warning. Nothing to worry about until there is something to worry about. That was the gist. And I recognized my anxiety. I wore it proudly, carried it around with me. I guess knowing it was there made it more manageable, but I still felt that familiar sickness in my tummy, like trouble was looming.

  Reed texted me a few times during the draft, and I recorded everything for him and Buck to see when they finally made it home. He looked so right holding up the blue and gold jersey to his chest. When I closed my eyes, it was like I’d seen him there all along. He was where he was supposed to be; he’d done it. Number 13. My number 13, at least…for now.