It might’ve been a long shot, but it was worth the try.
Two days later, after countless hours of conversations, searching for professors, and asking ambiguous questions, I finally hit gold. Dr. Ambrose had been the Chief Neurologist at Emory in Atlanta before he retired to teach. He knew of a handful of physicians at the hospital who specialized in sports medicine, and gave me the names of two who were often used by professional athletes. Luckily, he hadn’t asked many questions, and had wished the former UAT first baseman a speedy recovery. I might have led him to believe he was helping an alumnus, but I was willing to answer for that little white lie if I got caught.
I didn’t mention my discussions with Coby. The odds of being able to find a doctor who could help him anonymously in the limited amount of time he had before Spring Training started were not in my favor. There was no point in getting his hopes up unless I had a plan. And since I was a blind squirrel trying to find a nut, I wasn’t all that confident in my ability to formulate one.
With Coby in Tuscaloosa all the time, it was hard to find a place with any privacy to reach out to the two practices Dr. Ambrose had referred me to. I ended up sitting in my car at the grocery store making calls to both. My cell phone got hot in my hand from being in use for so long, but I managed to secure an appointment with Dr. Chen next week. Now I just had to convince Coby to go.
My backpack hit the floor like a ton of bricks when I walked into the house. I shed my jacket, hung it in the laundry room, and left my purse next to the dryer. “Coby?”
There was no noise to be heard, but his car was in the garage, so he was here. I glanced at the clock on the microwave when I proceeded through the kitchen and realized I was two hours early coming home. I’d skipped my last two classes for the day, and after I had called out his name again, I cringed, thinking I might be interrupting something…or someone.
I crept toward his room and found Coby’s door open and him sitting on the edge of the bed. The noise-canceling headphones in his ears clearly did their job. He jumped when he noticed me watching him from the hallway, and I giggled in response.
Removing the buds so he could hear me, he asked, “What are you doing here so early? Everything okay?”
“Great, I think. I actually need to talk to you.”
“He turned off his iPod and set it aside. What’s up, E.T.?”
Coby was in a good mood, but I decided not to call attention to it and burst the bubble. I hoped to add to it. “I’ve been thinking about your shoulder. And I might have found a solution…at the very least, a viable option.”
“I’m listening…”
I stepped closer and leaned against the doorframe. “I talked to several professors in the pre-med department at school about it.” I held my hand up when his face flamed with anger. “I didn’t tell them it was you. And the only one I actually ended up really having a meaningful discussion with assumed I was referring to Ryan…you know, the guy I’ve been dating all through school who also happened to play baseball at UAT?”
He visibly relaxed, yet his cheeks didn’t return to their normal hue.
Dismissing his irritation, I continued talking. “Long story short, because the details are mundane, he gave me the names of two doctors in Atlanta who specialize in sports medicine. I made an appointment for you next week.”
Coby’s arm might not be a hundred percent, but his feet and his mouth worked just fine. He stood so fast I was surprised he didn’t get lightheaded, and his nose was inches from mine after two long strides. “What the hell were you thinking, Ellie?”
“That you need help.” I pulled my head back slightly, never having seen this side of him. In all the years we’d been friends, Coby had never raised his voice to me, much less gotten in my face.
“And destroying my career solves my problem? I thought I made it pretty clear to you at your parents’ house that I can’t just go see a doctor. Jesus, Ellie. The Braves are in Atlanta, do you have any idea how easily someone could recognize my name?” He pulled at his hair with his right hand before dropping it to a balled fist at his side. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. Of all people, you’re the one person I thought I’d always be able to trust.” His chest heaved as he pulled in heated breaths.
“You’re an asshole, Coby Kyler! I’m not sure what’s happened to you or who you think I’ve become, but you should know, I’d walk through fire to protect you.” Stuffing my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I pulled out the piece of paper I’d written Dr. Chen’s contact information on and threw it at my best friend. “He does VIP medicine…and his patients pay big bucks to keep their information confidential. The appointment is in my name, not yours. So if you don’t mind, how about have the decency to cancel it if you’re not going to show up.”
I didn’t wait for the words to register before I stomped off to my room and slammed the door. When he called my name in a tone that indicated his misunderstanding, I ignored him. Ever since he’d shown up at Thanksgiving, I’d agonized over his situation, spent hours trying to find a solution, and even skipped class in hopes of coming up with something. And not only had he not given me the chance to tell him about it, but he’d assumed I’d betrayed him.
The soft knock on my door—seconds after I’d practically torn it off the wall slamming it—did nothing to calm me down.
“Ellie, please open up.” The sound of remorse in his voice almost made me cave.
The door wasn’t locked, and this wasn’t my house. I hadn’t stopped him from entering, even though I wanted to, and Coby knew I wouldn’t turn him away no matter how upset I got. I plopped down on the bed with my arms crossed and my lips pursed as he eased into the room. He was brave taking a seat next to me…especially on my right side. It was far too easy from this location to backhand his already injured shoulder if he kept up the attitude he’d had in the hall.
“I’m sorry. Everything has me on edge. I should’ve given you the chance to speak.”
Every once in a while, I tended to pout like I was still five, and Coby was the only person who put up with it. But where he normally laughed, today he pulled my arms apart and took my hand in his.
“You’re courageous.” I paused for effect and to give him time to question my statement. “One swift pull on that hand and you and your career would be done for.” The scowl still hung on my face, although it now took an effort to maintain.
Coby lifted my knuckles to his lips and kissed them before softly admitting, “You’d never hurt me, E.T.” He lowered our hands to his thigh but didn’t let mine go. “Will you tell me about the doctor in Atlanta, please?”
Offering him the information I’d been able to gather with what little I had to go on, I told him about Dr. Chen’s practice. His clientele were athletes like Coby, not necessarily those trying to hide things from their team, but professionals who needed—for a variety of reasons—to keep their medical care confidential. “This is exactly what you said you needed. He’s even willing to give us a list of agents we can contact for references on the athletes they represent. Coby, doing all this off the books, not using insurance, and appointments where no one other than staff is even in the office…it’s costly.”
“But there’s no way anyone will ever find out I was there?”
“According to his office manager, they even have a private garage and entrance.”
“Will you go with me?” I hadn’t heard that insecurity in his voice since before the draft. Coby had grown up a lot in the last few years—he had to. But that tone hadn’t come from Coby Kyler, the Major League Baseball player, it had come from my childhood friend.
“You know I will.”
With his hand still clasped with mine, he pushed the tips of our pointer fingers together. No matter how much time passed, we both still needed that reassurance from the other.
We left Tuscaloosa early that morning to make the three-hour drive to Atlanta to meet with Dr. Chen. His office manager had emailed me with instructions for how to get into
the garage and building, and she indicated that we needed to plan to be there for the majority of the day. Our appointment was at nine, but I couldn’t imagine what kind of consultation would take so long.
Fort Knox had nothing on Dr. Chen’s office. When we finally got into the building, I was surprised they weren’t using retina scanning to permit entrance. I’d expected a run-of-the-mill doctor’s office, but this state-of-the-art setup was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Coby completed the stack of paperwork one office person gave him, and we waited to see what happened next.
I wasn’t prepared—neither was Coby—for the consultation to turn into a full-blown evaluation. I listened as my friend detailed for the doctor what he’d been experiencing for months—the pain, the burning sensation, the numbness—and kicked myself for not seeing the signs. He’d been in agony every time he stepped onto the mound, but he was too concerned about letting his team down and losing his contract that he’d tried to fight through it.
Dr. Chen listened attentively, asking questions when necessary and then outlining the need for nerve testing and physical therapy. Worst-case scenario, the doctor explained, he might need surgery. He believed Coby had suffered a brachial plexus injury and had either inflamed or possibly torn one or more of those nerves.
“The nerves control the muscles of the shoulder all the way down to the hand, as well as feeling in the arm. As with any other injury, the treatment depends on the severity and how long ago it happened. But physical therapy is crucial in the recovery process. You have to maintain mobility to prevent the joints from stiffening and not allowing them to work properly.”
I wished I’d brought my laptop, or at the very least, a pen and paper to take notes. This was information overload, and I’d need time to process everything he said. Although, since I had neither, the best I could do was try to memorize every word that came from his mouth.
“It’s possible that you’ve just stretched the nerves and they’ll recover on their own. However, the longer you wait, the narrower the window becomes to provide a full recovery.”
“How long would it take to know if it heals on its own?” Coby hoped to fly under the radar, but the more I heard, the less likely I thought that would be.
“Every body heals differently, but if you need surgery and it’s not done within six to seven months, the scar tissue can become so dense that treatment is challenging. After that, you may never regain full function.”
Never regain full function.
Those four words echoed in my mind and distracted me from the conversation.
“I don’t have time for all that. I can’t risk showing up for Spring Training unable to play. No one knows I’m here—not even my coaches. I just renewed my contract with the Titans for ten years—I have to have this fixed. Quietly.”
Dr. Chen regarded Coby with a gentle smile. Where most people grinned when they were happy or laughing, the older doctor perpetually kept one on his face and in his eyes. “Mr. Kyler, we can certainly skip the nerve test and PT and go straight to an MRI, but I have to be honest…these types of injuries can be tricky—”
“I’ve already had an MRI. That’s how the team’s physician ruled out rotator cuff damage. Wouldn’t it have shown up then?”
“Unlikely. MRIs can be done on multiple planes, and those that determine rotator problems aren’t the same as those used to diagnose issues with the brachial plexus.”
Coby’s right hand went to the back of his neck to knead the muscles. He dropped his head and continued to talk. “How soon can you get the MRI set up?”
“We can do it today. We have the equipment here and a radiologist on staff who will provide us with a detailed report in less than an hour.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by what money could buy, but since I’d never had any, this still shocked me. Normal people waited weeks to get scheduled for an MRI and then another several days for results. Not Coby. He essentially just hired his own private physician, and it wouldn’t put a dent in his bank account.
“Let’s do it.”
By mid-afternoon, Coby had the start of an answer… He also had surgery scheduled in eight days. And no one—other than me—had any idea about any of it.
The ride home was quiet. I was still in awe of just how many zeros had been on the bill Coby paid when we checked out. And I couldn’t begin to fathom the estimate the office manager had given him for the same VIP treatment at Emory. Between the two figures, there were people who owned houses that didn’t cost as much.
“Is 98 Degrees going to be okay with you staying home for Christmas to help me?”
Coby not only needed someone to take him to the surgery, stay with him, and bring him back home after he was released, but he would also need help once we got back to the house.
“I’m sure he’ll understand. It’s not like any of this can be helped.” Yet in reality, I didn’t think Ryan would be the least bit compassionate. “You know I have to tell him the truth, right?”
“Yeah. I just hope he can keep his mouth shut.”
That part I had no doubt over. He might get a tad bit jealous of Coby at times, but he loved me, and I trusted him.
Broaching the subject of Christmas with Ryan wasn’t going to be pretty, and Coby didn’t need to be around to hear any of it. So, I waited until Coby made plans with Gage and then I invited Ryan over to break the news.
“Ellie, my parents are expecting to meet you at Christmas. We’ve been together for three years, and you’ve never gone home with me. They’re starting to wonder if you’re a figment of my imagination. I gave in at Thanksgiving about you going back to DeArmanville, even though you never gave me much of a reason for it—and that was with the understanding that Christmas would be with my family.”
“It’s not like I planned any of this, Ryan. If I’d known Coby was going to show up at Thanksgiving and our parents wouldn’t have been alone, I would’ve gone home with you then—”
“Wait a minute. What’d you just say?”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“You never told me Coby went home with you.”
“He didn’t go home with me. He showed up at my window at two in the morning the night before the holiday, so I let him in.”
The color of Ryan’s face grew more intense with each word from my mouth, and his tone turned from disappointment and irritation to enraged disbelief. “Into your childhood bedroom…at your parents’ house? In the middle of the night?”
I waved him off, thinking he didn’t understand the innocence of it all. “He needed someone to talk to. It wasn’t a big deal, Ryan. Coby has spent the night with me more times than I can count.”
“In another room?”
I let out a sigh. “No. In my room.”
“You let another man sleep with you, in your room, at your parents’ house, and you didn’t think that was information you possibly should have shared with your boyfriend of three years? The same one who’s asked you to move in and you’ve turned down?”
I shrugged…and he mocked me, repeating the gesture.
“Are you fucking him? Is that why you won’t sleep with me? Or move in with me? Am I just some pawn you use when he’s gone?”
Before I could stop myself, I drew my hand back and let it fly across his cheek. The slap reverberated off the walls in the silence, and my palm stung from the impact. He opened his mouth wide and cupped his cheek. But I wasn’t done.
An eerie calm settled over me, and my elevated voice softened. I stepped as close as I could without actually touching him, and lifted my chin to stare into his steel-grey eyes. “I won’t sleep with you because four months ago your best friend knocked up my old roommate. He had to drop out of graduate school and she left college her senior year. I honored your request not to press for sex until you’d graduated so you didn’t face that fate, and I expect the same from you. And I never said I wouldn’t move in with you, I only thought we should wait until after I graduated and got a job.
“But let
me tell you this, Ryan. Not you, not my parents, not school—nothing—will ever come between me and my friendship with Coby. You knew that the day we met. Either you learn to accept it and trust that I am—and always have been—faithful to you, or you need to move on.”
“You say you want to wait to move in together until you have a job, and you won’t have sex until you graduate.”
I nodded my confirmation.
“But you have no problem sleeping with Coby, or letting him foot the bill—not just for your education, but your living expenses, too. Do you not see the irony in that?”
I did see exactly what Ryan saw, and that was the reason I hadn’t given in to the things he asked for. None of this should have been this difficult.
“I don’t get it, Teller.” He hadn’t called me by my last name in ages. “What is it about him? Why does it have to be you? Can’t he hire a nurse or get one of his teammates to come hang out?”
Inhaling deeply, I tried to regain control over my emotions and keep this from turning into a decision made in the heat of the moment. I was seconds away from telling Ryan I was done, but I did love him—and I wanted to believe when I finished school I’d be happy with the same things he was after.
“He’s my best friend…has been since birth. If something happens, if this surgery goes wrong, he’ll lose everything.”
“I’d hardly call a ten-million-dollar guarantee losing much,” he scoffed.
With another deep breath, I counted to ten and closed my eyes. I reopened them and began speaking when I thought I could continue rationally. “Ryan, he wouldn’t just be off the team—all of his friends would be gone. He isn’t like us. Coby went straight to the Majors. He didn’t get a college degree. He has no one here, and the few guys on the team who do live here travel constantly.”
“He’d find something new to do, Ellie.” I hated the condescending way he’d said that sentence.
“You’re right, he would. But it most likely wouldn’t be in Tuscaloosa. Coby would sell the house and go back to DeArmanville, and there’s nothing there for him, either. Losing baseball wouldn’t just end Coby’s career—it would end Coby.”
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