Waiting on the Sidelines

by Scott, Ginger

  The night air was getting colder and it was close to 1 a.m. Knowing I had to get home, Reed finally took in a deep breath and started the engine again. I stared at the desert stars, so plentiful and bright against the black out here. My mind was still dwelling a little on college plans and I thought about telling Reed about my applications, but instead I decided to wait. I didn’t even know if I’d get in, and he was right. We had a lot of now ahead of us, and I was wasting it.

  We pulled back onto the main highway, which was dark and empty for stretches. Reed slid his hand over to grab my leg, squeezing it to reassure me. I put my hand on his and stroked his strong fingers, admiring his perfect arms. I loved the way his jaw looked as the light from the oncoming car cast a shadow over it, so strong and masculine. He was so much more a man, grown from the boy I noticed years ago. I was so lost in him and his features when I saw the flash of pain rush over his face in an instant as he jerked his hand from me and grabbed the steering wheel.

  There was a screeching sound of tires and the smell of burnt rubber in my nose. I saw glass shattering in my lap and felt the strong pull of the seatbelt across my bones just as the swift punch of the airbag came slamming into my face, burning my skin upon contact. It felt like we were spinning, but I wasn’t sure if we were even moving any more. There was a constant sound of a car horn and I heard screaming.

  Disoriented, it took me a few seconds to recognize Reed’s voice. “Nolan, Nolan! Are you ok, Nolan!” he wasn’t himself, he sounded terrified, hurt. I pushed through the airbag material, pulling at the yellow bag in front of him until I could see his face. I gasped when I saw his steering wheel pushed up into him, pinning him to the seat, his arm bent awkwardly through the wheel and into the dashboard. Then I saw bone. Bone!

  “Oh my god, Reed! Your arm! Don’t move, don’t move. You’re hurt!” I fought to get to my buckle, pain shooting through my ribs a little as I moved. I could see Reed’s face, it was ghost white and he looked like a frightened little boy. I reached for his face, holding it still in my hands and forcing his eyes to mine.

  “Reed, you’re hurt, do you understand me?” my heart beat deafening in my ears, shaking my entire chest and I was sure my hands were shaking from it. “Reed, just focus on me. Do not move; do not look at your arm.”

  It was broken. Badly. I wish I could take back what I had seen, but I made a mental note to myself not to look again. I was sure I would get sick if I did. I kept a hand on his face, my eyes locked with his, as I reached for my purse that was thankfully still tucked in my lap from the force of the airbag. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

  “There’s been an accident. I don’t know where we are,” I was operating on adrenaline now, my mind flashing back to Buck’s heart attack. “Yes, I will stay on the line.”

  I kept my eyes on Reed. “They are pinging my phone, help is coming. Just stay right here with me, don’t move.”

  I could suddenly register the sounds of the other vehicle. I heard a woman’s voice and I yelled through the shattered front window, hoping she heard me. “Help is coming, stay where you are. Do not move in case you have injuries,” my eyes still on Reed. His face was expressionless.

  I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, silent amid the chaos, before the flashes of lights and sounds of sirens were upon us. The firefighters pulled me from the Jeep and I fought to try to keep my eyes and hands on Reed. “Careful, he’s hurt! Please, help him!” I screamed.

  They laid me on a board and ran through a series of questions I couldn’t even hear. Could I see something? Could I hear this, could I feel this, was there pressure here? I was fine, I wanted to tell them. I wanted to get to my feet, go help Reed. But they kept me in place and were soon lifting me on the board and into the back of an ambulance. I remember the doors shutting, the pinch of a needle in my vein, the sound of scissors up my mom’s dress. A woman EMT was dialing my phone, and I could tell she was talking to my parents.

  We were at a hospital soon, though I wasn’t sure which one. There was a rush of florescent lights and dotted ceiling tiles and then silver doors that flung open and a new set of nurses and doctors in scrubs. They hovered over me, pushing, prodding, sticking for several minutes before wheeling me to a corner in the long hallway, pulling a curtain around me and then abandoning me.

  I tried to stretch my muscles and sit up in the bed. I wanted to find my phone, wanted to know how long it had been. I needed to know if my parents were here, and I HAD to see Reed. I started crying finally, the release of it all coming out in full force.

  A nurse swished the curtain open just then, holding a small tray with medicine and water. “Nolan?” she was using her calm voice, the one they train them to use. I remember this from Buck. I know this voice. “Hon, you were in an accident.” No shit!

  “Reed, is he here? Is he ok?” I was starting to fight her, trying to sit up. She put her hand on my shoulder, holding me down. I winced from a pain, a bruise I thought.

  “He’s here. He’s fine. He’s with the doctors now. It’s ok,” her words were better than medicine, the fight completely abandoning my body, leaving me exhausted.

  “My mom and dad?” I was starting to cry again.

  “They’ll be here any minute,” she reassured, pushing the water with the straw in it to me and giving me two pills to take. I swallowed and she was gone.

  I stared without blinking at the curtain, wanting to just leave my little corner, but afraid to all the same. I was at Mercy. Buck’s hospital, I thought. I focused on the sound of my heavy breathing and the regular beep on my machine, my only companion here behind the dark curtain. When I finally heard a familiar voice, I started crying again. “Mommy? Daddy?” I heard their feet speed up and the curtain was once again open.

  My mom hugged me, again making me wince in pain. My dad just stood at the foot of my bed, holding his hand over his mouth, trying to hold it together.

  “I’m ok, mom. I’m ok,” I was reassuring her. What the hell?

  “Oh my god, baby. We had no idea,” she leaned back, wiping her own tears and then mine. Grasping my hand, she also reached for my father’s. We sat there still for a while, just linked together.

  We were finally interrupted when a doctor with a clipboard walked up to my bedside, flipping through paper and chewing gum. “Hi, Nolan,” he was more chipper. I wasn’t sure if I liked that either. “You are a lucky girl, you know that?”

  He leaned over and listened to my heart and helped me forward to listen to my back while I breathed. “You wore your seatbelt, and that saved your life, you know that?” he continued. Lifting the blue gown I was somehow now wearing, he showed my mother the bruising on my chest and ribs from the impact of the seatbelt. I spaced as he started explaining the burn marks from the air bag and before he was done speaking I interrupted.

  “Where’s Reed,” I stared at my father, knowing he would be the only normal person here with me now, the only one who would get me the information I needed to know.

  “I’ll go find him, honey. I’ll be right back,” he gave a half smile and tried to hide the pain in his face from seeing my injuries. He left my curtain world and I watched the spot he had been standing until he returned.

  My dad didn’t come back for almost 30 minutes. When he did, he had the answers I was desperate for. He had talked to Buck and said Reed had two broken ribs and they were working on setting his right arm. I gasped at the thought, air leaving my lungs. My dad smoothed my hair back and reached to give me more water. “He’s going to be here overnight, honey, but he gets to come home tomorrow. He’s going to stay at his mom’s. But he’s going to be just fine,” he said, trying to keep me calm.

  I let a single tear slide down my cheek, not even bothering to wipe it. How could he be fine. He can’t throw. How the hell did this happen?

  “The doctors said we could take you home tonight,” my mom slid in to sit next to me, pushing a cold wash cloth on my head.

  I just shook my head no. I didn’t want to go. I
couldn’t bare the thought of going without Reed. “No, please. I have to stay. Please!” I was begging. “It’s a hospital, I’ll be fine here. Please!”

  My voice was hoarse and my cheeks were sticky. I was sure I looked homeless, my hair ratted and my face dirty from crying. I watched as my parents exchanged glances, looking from me to one another. Finally, they relented, explaining they had to check me out so I would have to stay as a guest, sitting in Reed’s room.

  “I’ll pick you up early tomorrow, OK?” my dad kissed my head while my mom helped gather my bag of belongings. I cringed as I saw her good dress, cut in two in a plastic bag. But she picked my chin up and smiled.

  “It’s just a dress,” she smiled. “It gives me an excuse to buy a new one.”

  I just squeezed her hand again. Not really wanting to spend the night here in my loaner gown from the hospital, my mom worked her persuasive magic and talked one of the nurses into giving me a set of old scrubs. They were maroon, but at least they weren’t open in the back, a step up from the gown I was wearing now.

  My parents left and I stood in the hallway by Reed’s room holding my phone wearing flip flops my mom bought at the gift shop. I couldn’t seem to get my legs to move, so I just listened as Buck explained he would be back tomorrow and he would drive Reed to Millie’s house. Millie had left just minutes before; I missed her, which was probably lucky as I’m sure somehow what happened has only made me a step lower in her eyes.

  Buck stopped in the hall as he left, looking down at his phone and then pausing as he got closer to me, looking up and giving me a soft smile. “Nolan, sweetheart,” he gave me a big hug and I started shaking. “Shhhhhhh, it’s ok. He’s going to be just fine. He’s strong, my boy.”

  He gave me a wink and said he’d see me in the morning and I started to slide to his room. I barely made it around the corner, silent, and I saw his face, still blank. He was looking out the window at nothing. I slid closer, setting my phone on his small table and then pulling the wooden chair over to his head side of the bed. I curled my body up into the tiny chair and reached for his left hand, his right one buried under a slick, white cast. His entire right arm was held up with bars and chains, and he looked so uncomfortable.

  He didn’t turn to me right away, and his hand felt weak. When he finally looked at me, I could tell his eyes were puffy. I ran my fingers down his face, leaning forward to kiss his head. “Hey,” I smiled, faintly.

  “Hey,” he said back, biting his lip a little, still pained. He was squeezing my hand more now. “You’re ok,” he let out his lungs, his mouth falling into a hard straight line.

  “I’m ok,” I swallowed, looking at his body, which was not OK. “Does it… hurt?” I motioned to his arm.

  He turned slowly to look at it for several minutes before speaking. “Yeah, it hurts,” he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, distracted.

  He finally turned his head back to me, blinking a little, his eyes looking tired. “I’m staying,” I said. I just wanted him to know so he could relax, and it seemed to help a little. “I refused to leave,” I smiled.

  He gave me a flat smile, his lips tight. The lines formed on his brow; he was thinking. I reached for his water cup and brought it to him, but he just turned and shrugged it off. Finally, he spoke.

  “She was texting,” he sighed. I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I just shrugged, not understanding. “The driver of the other car. She was texting. She came in our lane, so fast. I swerved and we hit the highway marker. And a cactus, I guess.”

  He seemed to be far away, replaying the accident in his mind. I just brushed his head and tried to get him to rest.

  “My dad’s pressing charges,” he said flatly, turning back to the window. A few minutes later, he was asleep. I watched him breathe until the sun was up, and finally I slept for an hour or two myself.

  My dad picked me up just as Buck was arriving to get Reed settled and ready to go to Millie’s. The two fathers shook hands, Buck putting his hand on my dad’s back, almost a hug. I could tell they respected each other and were some comfort to one another, and it made me feel glad amid all of this bad stuff.

  Reed had managed to eat a small breakfast, and was talking more this morning. But he still seemed off. I kissed him, but our parting felt empty. It felt like a routine, or an obligation on his part. And suddenly the deep bruising on my ribs wasn’t the only internal injury I was nursing.

  24. And After

  Ten weeks. That meant five games. Reed wouldn’t suit up for his senior homecoming match up, and there was a chance the Bears wouldn’t make the playoffs unless Kyle, Reed’s back-up, could pull off a miracle. He had only thrown the ball in a few games, and only when they were blow outs.

  Reed had been back at his dad’s house for almost two days, and I still hadn’t seen him. He had called me the night he got home, but said he was going to bed early, tired and trying to get things settled. He promised to make it up to me yesterday, but then the entire day came and went without a single phone call.

  His texts and phone calls to me grew less and less while he was at his mother’s house. I tried to keep it in the rational box that told me he was dealing with this life-changing trauma, and fear that he wouldn’t be the same. And I knew that mostly that’s what it was. But I couldn’t seem to equal out how he could be shutting me out now when I had so much to offer. I could be his rock, and wanted to be so desperately. I couldn’t help but think that his mother’s opinion of me wasn’t at play just a little, either.

  I drove to campus for volleyball workouts and stopped on my way into the gym to peer out at the football field. I saw Reed’s profile standing next to his coach on the sidelines. He was talking to him and pointing at things while Kyle was working passing drills. Kyle wasn’t Reed, and that was clear from even this far away. But he wasn’t bad.

  Heading into the women’s locker room, I let my mind get carried away, wondering if Reed would be waiting for me after practice, or if he even realized I was here. I was navigating unknown territory, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Reed was distant, but he still told me he loved me and spoke sweetly, when he spoke.

  When I led the freshmen through running drills up and down the stairs, my mind flashed back to the first time I locked eyes with Reed as he flung open the heavy metal doors to the gym lobby. Those doors remained tightly closed each time we ran by today, but I still expected to see him standing there every time I passed through anyhow.

  When practice was over, I packed up my gym bag slowly, letting everyone leave before me. I even thought about taking a quick shower before I left, something I had only done two or three times ever. But I knew I was just stalling. I was so afraid of walking out that door and seeing the dark lights over the football field and Reed long gone. He was driving Buck’s raised Ram truck, waiting on the settlement from the accident to see what they could do about his Jeep. I willed that truck to appear in my mind and held on to the hope that it would.

  When I finally walked through the gym lobby and let the warm desert evening air hit my face I shut my eyes for a moment, not wanting to know if he was there or gone. When I opened them and saw him sitting on the wall, I felt my lungs fill with air for the first time in days. His hat was backwards, his hair a little longer than normal and tucked behind his ears, curling out from the bill of his hat. He was wearing his long basketball shorts, Nike sandals and my favorite gray T-shirt; his cast, which now boasted a few signatures, was resting on his leg.

  I bit my lip a little as I walked over to him slowly. I was nervous, like I was just now introducing myself to this guy who knew me so intimately. It was strange, and I missed the comfort we used to have.

  “Hey, you,” I said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

  “Hey, yourself,” he smiled faintly, reaching his hand up to take mine and sliding off the wall. He moved into me and kissed me softly. “I missed you.”

  I could still see the shimmer in his eye, but it was faded, worn. He seemed tired. Reed walk
ed me silently over to my car, and I felt my hand sweating in his, something that had never happened before. The closer we got to my car, the more worried I was becoming, afraid that the next words from his lips were going to be to break up with me. I was so lost in these thoughts that when he finally did speak, I jumped a little.

  “Thought maybe we could get some dinner?” he held my door open for me. “Maybe you could follow me home and then drive? It’s kind of uncomfortable for me.”

  I could see that, there wasn’t really a good place to rest his cast, and it looked so heavy. “Of course, I’m starving!” I smiled, trying to hide my worry.

  He kissed me again, softly, and shut my door for me and I waited for him to back out to follow him home.

  I struggled for something to say the entire trip to MicNic’s. Reed seemed lost in his own thoughts, too. My mind was racing and fighting against the thoughts of our relationship ending, sick with anticipation that his next words would be telling me that we had to move on, apart.

  Things were quiet over dinner as well. We sat across from one another in a booth, but at least now we had our food to keep our mouths busy. I let my eyes take in Reed’s cast finally, slightly ashamed of staring at this glaring symbol of his weakness. Sean had written his name and football number on the cast and so had a couple of the other guys, but there was a signature closer to the inside that I was having a hard time making out.

  “That’s nice, some of the guys signed your cast?” I said, almost timidly.

  “Oh, yeah,” he just shrugged. I wondered if he’d want me to sign it, or if that was even something you offered to do in a situation like this. I felt like a third grader.

  He was picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat a little when his cast rotated and I was finally able to see the names hidden on the inside. Tatum. And Calley. I wanted to throw up right here all over the table. I could feel my heart speed up, and I was pretty sure rage was starting to brew in my toes and crawl up my legs. I had to be cool, because things were not good between us, and I didn’t want to make them worse. But this? This wasn’t ok.