by Suzanne Hart
The next Sunday, I invited her up to watch the game from the box. It was the second playoff game of the season, and things were really starting to go well. The stands were almost coming to life with electricity, and excitement reverberating through the stadium. It was a cool, but bright day, the sun beaming down onto the field, the white helmets gleaming in the light. The box was filled with other board members, chatting excitedly as they caught up with each other, offering roars of approval when our team gained some significant yardage or had a touchdown. I had my old fashioned and Dahlia had her white wine.
She looked stunning in the light, green sweater that brings out her eyes, her jeans perfectly accentuating her curves, her pendant necklace landing just between the round hills of cleavage on her chest. She glanced up at me, a smile stretching across her face as she caught my gaze. She raised her white wine to me before taking a sip. “This is so great.”
I nodded. “I know, we’re actually winning for a change.”
She chuckled. “I honestly don’t even know how we made it this far.”
I stretched my hands out. “We’re the cowboys! That’s how!” I exclaimed, unable to hide my pride.
Baz, one of the men on the board, raised his glass, “You’re damn right!”
We all laughed at that.
In the next moment, the timeout ended and the players took their first positions, standing head-on against the Houston Texans. It was the end of the third quarter. Even though we were winning, it was still anyone’s game. When the play started, they hurled themselves at each other and a kind of organized chaos ensued. My heart fluttered in my chest. There really was nothing quite like an exciting game of Sunday football. The quarterback launched the ball all the way across the field. We were all silent as we watched, our heads tracing it across the field, the hairs on the backs of our necks raised in suspense.
Finally, it landed clean into Collin’s hands. He did an about face and sprinted towards the end zone. One Texan hurled himself at him, but Collin leaped over the man’s arm, dodging him completely. Our players covered him as he weaved this way and that, fast approaching the end zone like some kind of bullet. Then, as if completely effortlessly, he crossed that bit of turf decorated with the Texan’s colors and slammed the ball onto the ground.
I could practically feel the stands tremble as the crowd roared. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts on account of the cheering going on in the box. Dahlia bounded up and down in excitement, her perfect breasts bouncing up and down in her sweater. I raised an eyebrow, but then shook those thoughts out my head. We were in public. I would take her as soon as that game was over.
She turned and hugged me. Kissed her in celebration. “You seem excited!”
She raised her eyebrows. “Our boys are winning!”
I nodded, a smile on my face. She was fitting in more and more with each passing day. I loved it. “Do you want me to refill your drink?”
She glanced down at her wine glass and then back up at me, pursing her lips in thought. “Actually, no I don’t think so. I’m technically working, remember?”
I chuckled and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her neck. Her skin was so damn soft. I could feel my cock hardening as I trailed my hand down her waist.
She sighed. “After.” she murmured.
“After.” I agreed, fully planning on whisking her back home as quickly as possible.
As the players took their spots to start again, we all gazed down at the field, a slight hush occupying the box. There was a brief moment of inaction, of silence, before the players launched into action. I watched closely, the ball hurling towards the quarterback. He caught it effortlessly, then went on his way down the field, sprinting like a professional, the ball lodged in his arm so naturally he could have been born with it.
He dodged the first obstruction easily, then the second and the third. We had gained thirty yards when a Texan came racing towards him. He shifted his weight slightly to dodge it, but went head first into another blockage. He was going at top speed when the Texan slammed right into his torso, just as he attempted to jump over him. The change in his trajectory caused him to leap over the man’s head, doing a full somersault in the air.
“Oh!” The exclamation came out of my mouth of my own accord as I watched him land clean on his head before coming down onto the turf. He laid on his back, completely motionless. The game stopped right at that moment, every player on the field standing like mannequins, frozen in complete awe and disbelief at what had just happened.
The sound of glass crashing onto the ground broke the silence in the box. I turned just in time to watch Dahlia run from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Dahlia
My heart pounded in my chest, my legs feeling like pins and needles as I sprinted down that long, cool hallway. I jabbed my pointer finger onto the elevator button and hopped up and down while I waited for it to arrive. When it finally came, I jumped in and started pressing the door close button. Just as the doors slid to a close, I caught sight of Chet staring at me, standing in the middle of the hallway, a look of complete terror on his face.
I paced back and forth in the elevator as it went down to the ground floor, feeling like a complete idiot for not following the game on the field. I shouldn’t have been in that box. I shouldn’t have let my guard down for one second. And now the quarterback was seriously injured. For the first time in my career, I begged more than anything, that they didn’t actually need me. I begged that he would be up and about before I even got a chance to get on the field. But that was highly unlikely. We all saw that collision. If I could trust my eyes, I was sure I saw the swift shift in his neck as he fell to the ground like a tree that had been cut down. It was probably broken.
Finally, the elevator doors swung open to the inside of the private team quarters. I ran through the tunnel, focusing on the bright light just on the outside of it. I eventually emerged onto the field, as if coming out of a daze to find the crowds hushed, watching. Someone had called an ambulance. I knew because I could already hear it coming. I rushed to our meeting place on the field and grabbed my case. I didn’t know if there was anything in there that could help someone who’s injury was clearly so serious, but I knew I had to try.
I kept running out onto the field, which had cleared by now, with only the quarterback and a couple of officials there to examine what was going on. I slammed the pack onto the ground and yanked it open. It was hard because I couldn’t take off his helmet, without the tools to stabilize his neck and spine.
“Dr. Waters…” It was Russ’s worried voice.
I glanced up at him. “Not now Russ.”
“Thank God you’re here.”
My eyes widened in surprise at those words. I looked up at him for any sign of irony. But all I saw was a face covered in worry and… fear. I pulled out my stethoscope and placed it on his chest to listen. There were breath sounds and a heartbeat. “He’s alive,” I muttered.
Russ nodded, releasing a sigh of relief and making a sign up to the stands. A subdued cheer followed. Shortly after, the paramedics arrived. I explained what happened as succinctly as I could as they put a brace on his neck and slid his helmet off. They put him on a gurney, ran him off the field and loaded him onto the back of that truck. Without a second thought, I got in the back of that ambulance with him.
The whole, bumpy ride to the hospital, I gazed at the body in front of me. Despite the sounds the machines were making, the player looked completely lifeless, an empty shell of himself. I folded my hands, resting my chin on them as I watched him, tears filling my eyes, anger filling my heart at whatever sport could allow this to happen to a human being and then keep going as if it was nothing. I knew that he had made his choice. He went onto the field every day knowing that this was a possibility, but all I could think about was Russ’s nonchalance and that, no matter what happened to this man, nothing would change for the other players, and it would probably happen again eventually… and again.
&n
bsp; Eventually, we got to the emergency room of Dallas General. The doctors on duty came running out of the double doors. I stepped out of the back after they wheeled him out, following the crowd of doctors as the paramedics yelled a complete summary of everything that had happened. They rolled him into a free space on the floor and shut the curtains around him. I watched as the doctors ran every test possible. There was no brain damage, no hemorrhaging, but they had to get him in an operating room to fix his spine.
When they wheeled him away, I sat in the waiting room with my phone in my hand for God knows how long. Chet texted me several times, but I just wasn’t in the mood to respond. I didn’t want to talk to him or anyone about what could possibly be happening to a man just a couple of floors up. After I had sat there for about an hour, a complete frazzled mess, the doors opened. A couple I had recognized from somewhere walked in. The tall man glanced around the room, peering through his thick glasses while he kept his arm wrapped around his wife, who stood clutching her brown sweater close to her, her red eyes spilling tears.
When she locked eyes on me, an expression of recognition caught on and she came to sit with me. “What happened, Dr. Waters? What the hell happened.”
There was a lump in my throat as I answered. I couldn’t imagine their pain, but I knew it had to have been unbearable. “He took a really bad collision.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” The man demanded.
I opened my mouth to say something, but my face grew hot. As an intern, you were taught never to give a patient’s family false confidence. As much as I wanted to assure them, to put an end to their nerves and pain, the best I could do was, “I don’t know. Hopefully. He’s in surgery, so.”
The woman burst into tears.
I flinched at the sound as she put her face in her hands.
The man rubbed her back, resting his head on the wall behind him.
I turned my gaze on the door, waiting for a surgeon to come walking through. As I sat there, waiting for hour after hour, my heart pounded in my chest. I clenched my fists in anger, my blood boiling. None of this was fair. I couldn’t stand the way that this was just accepted. I couldn’t believe that I was just supposed to be a complicit actor in all of this.
Carnage.
Chet
I paced back and forth in my office well into the afternoon. I had to stay out the rest of the game even though I had wanted nothing more than to go with Dahlia. They substituted someone else in, a new draft from this year. It lost us the game. I knew that Dahlia would be beating herself up. I knew that she would be upset that this had happened and would find a way to blame herself. I wanted to be with her, but she wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I had to accept that she would have rather spent the time alone.
I now stood in my office, waiting for news.
Finally, Russ came in. I could tell from the worried look on his face, the slump in his shoulders, that it wasn’t good. “What’s going on?” I asked, leaning against my desk.
“He’s paralyzed.” Russ’s voice broke.
I gave him a hug. Something told me that was the right thing to do. “Was it his neck? It looked back.”
Russ nodded, his hands in his pockets, his gaze cast down. “He was one of the best players we’ve ever had.”
I shook my head. The situation was nearly impossible for me to wrap my head around. Paralyzed. I couldn’t believe this. I had watched him run around our field for years. He had been to a superbowl with us. I could hardly conceive of a team without him. My mind immediately went to Dahlia. I had to go see her.
Thirty minutes later, I had driven to her house and was knocking on her door. When she opened it, I could tell from the way her lips folded into a frown, the red in her eyes and the streaks on her cheeks that she had been crying. Once she let me in, I took her into my arms.
“I called you,” I said as she led me to her living room.
She nodded. “I know. I just didn’t feel like…” Her voice trailed off. She picked up a mug that had been sitting on her coffee table and lifted it up to her lips, taking a sip of the steaming contents.
“I want you to be able to talk to me.” I said, placing a hand on her knee.
She ran a hand through her hair. “That’s the thing. I just don’t feel like I can. I never feel like I can.”
I furrowed my brow. “What are you talking about?”
“This team stuff. It doesn’t work with us.”
I rubbed her knees, resting my hand on the back of the couch behind her. “Russ told me what happened.”
She gulped. “So, what do you want me to say?”
I shrugged. “God Dahlia, I don’t know. I just wish you could open up to me.”
She let her head drop onto my shoulder, heaving heavy sobs. “I feel like shit Chet.”
I rubbed the back of her head, frowning. “This isn’t your fault.”
“He’s paralyzed.” She snapped, looking up at me again. “He’s never gonna walk again, Chet. Think about that. He’s not gonna teach his kid how to throw a ball. He’s not gonna…” her voice trailed off.
I rested my chin her head. “I know, Dahlia. I know it’s terrible.”
She sniffed, once, and then again. Over the next few minutes, her body seemed to calm in my grasp. I held her tighter as she looked up at me, kissing me harder than she ever has. I winced, but then kissed her back. She was so warm, her skin so soft. I explored her with my hands, her body responding to my every touch. I felt her shudder as I slipped my hand under her shirt, grabbing her breasts. She clutched my neck with those soft hands, her lips moving in perfect synchrony with mine, her tongue just on the inside of my mouth.
She gently pushed me down so that I was lying on my back on her couch. She was like an angel sitting on top of me, the crimson light from the setting sun bringing out the red in her hair. I gazed up at her, completely captivated by her. I loved her.
She unbuckled my pants and grabbed my manhood, stroking it softly and she laid kisses on my neck and chest I hardened in her grip, my hand massaging her scalp, that thick hair in between my fingertips. She smelled heavenly, like roses and a hint of something else I couldn’t quite place. The both of us fumbled with her panties before she mounted me, slipping me inside of her.
I grabbed her hips and thrusted, her moans of pleasure egging me on. I bit my lip, my cock spasming with pleasure. She grinded against me, harder and harder, her hands pressed against my chest, her lips showering kisses on my face, my neck. I climaxed, holding onto her as tight as I could.
Dahlia
I woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of Chet snoring next to me. I turned over, getting an eyeful of his peaceful face, his lips spread ever so slightly as he sucked in breath after breath, his thick brows furrowed in whatever imaginary conflict he was dealing with in his dreams, his black hair a complete mess after the night we had just had. I put my arm around him and tried to go to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, all I could think about was what I witness the night before. I kept playing the horrible event in my head over and over again. My brain was playing tricks on me, inventing sounds for what the Texan knocked him off of his feet, the crunch of bones breaking as he landed on his head. I could still hear the eerie sound of his internal breaths, his heart thudding, beating on and on, begging for mercy.
I swung the sheets from over me and slipped out of bed, going to my kitchen to make some coffee. Once I started a pot, I sat down at the kitchen table and flipped open my MacBook. I couldn’t believe how many emails I had already received from newspapers and blogs asking me for a comment on what had happened yesterday. I shut the laptop and sat with my arms wrapped around my legs, wishing I could have stopped what had happened.
But that was the thing. I couldn’t have stopped that from happening. In fact, the entire company was hell-bent on making sure I had absolutely no influence or control over the team members, that there would be nothing in my power to do to prevent further injury. Russ had made it clear that he wanted no
thing to do with me. Dr. Little had been completely useless when it came to standing up for me, and, in fact, I was pretty sure he didn’t really want to either. And Chet, Chet had done nothing to help me. As I sat there, watching the drops of coffee fall into the bottom of that pot, I became certain that Chet would never take any action against his mother, against the board and against the precedent that his father had made. That much was obvious. Now, it was up to me to figure out how I would deal with that.
I loved the Cowboys, loved the game and there was no denying that this was the most fun I had had in a job, maybe, ever. But there were so many problems, and I had really tried to solve them. The fact of the matter was that this kind of thing was going to keep happening and happening whether I was there or not. My eyes started tearing up as I realized that I was certain of something else as well: That I couldn’t stay and watch another person go through this.
“Dahlia?”
I looked up to find Chet standing in the archway to the kitchen in nothing but his underwear.
A smile played on my lips at the sight.
He came to join me, lifting my chin and planting a kiss on my lips.
I shot him a watery smile.
He frowned. “Have you been crying?”
This was it. I had to just do it. Rip it off. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He grimaced. “What are you talking about?”