The Last First Game

by Gina Azzi

  “No. I don’t have a plan yet for what I want to do next year.”

  “Then why not just start medical school?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s harder to go back to school the more time you take off. It’s tough to get back into the student mode once you’ve had a taste of the real world.” This I’ve heard before. Mainly from my dad. Damn, Brandon sounds like an echo.

  “Maybe.”

  “So what gives?”

  “I don’t know if I want to go to medical school.”

  He lets out another whistle. “Like at all?”

  “Yeah.”

  I can picture him squeezing the bridge of his nose, asking some unknown deity for patience. “Did you talk to Dad?”

  “Not yet. I’m talking to you. What do you think?”

  “Does this have something to do with Wilkins?”

  What? “No! Why would you even suggest that?”

  “It’s an honest question. Him having the diagnosis he does. You seeing him suffer. Things like this mess with a person’s mind. Are you having second thoughts because of what he’s going through? Because you can’t base your future on one person’s medical experience.”

  “This has nothing to do with Cade.” I say it firmly, my voice strong. And it’s the truth. My reluctance to attend medical school simmered under the surface long before I met Cade Wilkins.

  “Okay,” Brandon says, and I can tell he believes me. “So where is this coming from?”

  I sigh. “I think it’s been a long time coming. I just never really questioned it because I’m good at the science courses and don’t hate the labs like most people who drop out of the program.”

  He laughs.

  “Now that I’m in this internship, I’m just realizing I don’t know if I want to do this everyday for the next forty years. I mean, nothing happened, I’m doing fine, things are going. But I don’t feel anything. No passion, no excitement, nothing. Aren’t you supposed to be excited about your future career?”

  He’s silent for a few minutes. Finally, he blows out a deep breath. “Yeah, Bean. You are. I get it, trust me, I do. I felt the same way when I told Dad about law school instead of med school. I didn’t have your grades though, so he gave me a bunch of BS about not being able to cut it anyway. Which I guess was a relief. Better he thinks I can’t do it than I don’t want to.” Bran’s voice is tinged with bitterness.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “I think you better have a plan that doesn’t include an ashram or a backpack when you tell Dad.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, he would lose it if I told him I was going to do some farming co-op in South America or something.”

  Brandon laughs, a comforting ring. “Join the Peace Corps.”

  “Volunteer at an orphanage.”

  We’re laughing in earnest now.

  “God, Dad sucks sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “How’s Mom?”

  He sighs. “She’s Mom.”

  “How bad?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “How bad?” I repeat.

  He sighs again. “She’s spending some time with Aunt Lori. I think she’s depressed, but not suicidal if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  It is what I’m thinking but I don’t say anything. No one wants to admit that they think their mother is so depressed, so broken, so lost that she would consider taking her own life, leaving her son and daughter fragmented. I shake the confusion out of my head.

  “How’s Seattle?” I change the subject.

  “It’s good. I like it a lot better here than I thought I would. I finally feel settled, you know? Work is going well. I’m up for a promotion.”

  “Bran! That’s awesome news!”

  He laughs. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool. I’ll let you know if it works out.”

  “Okay. I’m going to think about my future and make a plan to tell Dad.”

  “There are a lot of things you can do in the medical field without being a doctor if you enjoy any aspects of it.”

  “Yeah. That’s what Kristen said.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “She is.”

  “Well, think it over. Let me know if you want to talk about anything.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Love you, Bean.”

  “Love you too.”

  “’Bye.”

  I hang up and smile to myself.

  Dad would die of a brain aneurysm if I told him I was joining the Peace Corps.

  Maybe I should.

  You know, just for an actual reaction.

  * * *

  I’m supposed to be at the game right now. I promised Cade I would go to show my support for the team. I know that he’s going to be sitting on the bench tonight and how hard it must be for him to sit on the sidelines, cheering his teammates on, and not help contribute to their win.

  But my conversation with Brandon is weighing on me. I feel like I have to call my dad, get this over with, and start a clean slate. I message Cade that I’ll be late and if I don’t see him at the game, then I’ll be by his house later tonight, after the game, to watch movies and hang out.

  Then, I dial.

  “Lila,” Dad answers.

  “Hey, Dad. How are you?”

  “Fine, sweetheart. And you?”

  “Okay. I’m wondering if you have a minute to talk? There’s something I want to run by you.”

  “Sure. Is this something about your meeting with Kate Lenox? I’m assuming you’ve talked to her already. Or do you like the program at UMass?”

  Jeez. He just doesn’t let up. “No. Actually, I haven’t spoken with Mrs. Lenox or checked out the program at UMass. I don’t think, no, I know that I don’t want to attend medical school.”

  Silence.

  “Lila…” long sigh “…I know you’re angry with me. But, sweetheart, don’t make a huge mistake just to spite me. You’re better then that. Make the appointment with Kate Lenox, continue the course with the MCAT, and next semester you’ll be thanking me for not allowing you to quit.”

  Allowing me? Thanking him! “Dad, I don’t think you’re hearing what I am saying. I don’t want to apply to medical school. I’m not sure what I want to do yet, but this isn’t it. The internship has been a wonderful experience to figure this out for myself. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not doing this to anger you or out of spite or anything like that. I’m not applying to medical school because I don’t want to be a doctor.” I let out a deep breath.

  Miraculously, I feel somewhat better. As if the heavy cloud is receding, letting light back in. Inhale. Exhale.

  “Dad?” I prompt.

  “Lila.” His voice is even, cold. “I didn’t expect this from you. I’m just a little shocked. I mean, your brother, he didn’t have the grades so a part of me understood his reluctance, his fear of rejection, of not being able to handle the pressure. But you’ve always been so smart, so ambitious, so levelheaded. I never imagined that one semester in California, playing house with a football player, would make you forfeit your dreams. What are you going to do? Follow around a boy? Nurse him back to health like a maid when you could be saving lives like a doctor?”

  “This has nothing to do with Cade.” I’m angry, furious really, but I keep my voice level, my anger checked. Don’t let him know his words affect me, that he affects me.

  He scoffs. “Whatever you tell yourself at night, sweetheart. God, am I disappointed. Good luck figuring out what to do next. You graduate in one more semester. Who is going to hire a giggly girl with no technical skills and no idea what to do with her life? And if you think I’m going to keep supporting you, paying for your wonderful lifestyle to continue, you are mistaken. Call me back when you wake up and come back to reality.” He disconnects.

  I sit in shock, staring at my phone. On one hand it went better than I anticipated. No screaming, no tears, no outrageous threats. On the other hand his callousness stings, his lack of
faith in me hurts, his trying to turn Cade into an excuse burns. But what do I really expect from him?

  I toss my phone down. I have one more semester to figure out what to do with my life. Awesome. No pressure there.

  I debate messaging Cade. But what am I going to say to him. I don’t know what to do with my future? He’s in the same boat, but for a much better reason. I sigh heavily and decide to email Mia, Maura, and Emma. Sort through my feelings and confide in my friends to help the anger I feel simmer away. I’ll see Cade later for a movie anyway.

  To: amelia.petrella@mcshain.edu, emma.stanton@mcshain.edu, maura.rodriguez@mcshain.edu

  From: lila.avers@mcshain.edu

  Date: November 4, 2015

  Subject: Life Decisions

  Hi friends,

  God, do I miss you girls. I’ve made some important life decisions – i.e. I’m not going to apply to medical school. And my dad lost it. He didn’t lose it in the way I expected – there was no yelling or hollering. It was worse. He was cold, disconnected, and disappointed. I’m so angry/upset/frustrated I could scream. I mean, is it really that horrible if his daughter doesn’t want to be a doctor? There are a lot of other things I could do, right? Do you have any ideas on what they could be?

  I just feel so confused and lost right now. Like I’m going through the motions of this internship that so many people would literally chop their arm off in order to be a part of, and my heart’s not in it. At all. And then I feel guilty because I should be grateful to have been accepted in the first place and to not struggle with the demanding work and academic load like so many other people. Sigh, I’m a mess.

  And on top of that, I feel like Cade and I aren’t connecting. It’s like some days we are and some days we aren’t. It’s so hot and cold I can’t figure it out. I want to be here for him, but I don’t always know how to do that without him getting defensive or feeling like I pity him. Maybe I do a little? I mean, I know I feel terrible for him. But I don’t see him any differently. I’m still incredibly attracted to him (you girls have seen his photos – he’s sexy as hell) and I have an amazing time talking to him. He makes me laugh and he makes me feel so many emotions I’ve never felt before. But it’s different now. Maybe because we can’t act on the physical attraction part? He’s so tired all the time and lost in his own head. I don’t know what to do to connect with him. Or to stay consistently connected.

  What do you guys think I should do?

  Write soon with updates.

  Missing you all like whoa.

  Love,

  Lila

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cade

  Lila comes over after the game for a movie night. This Saturday marks the third weekend that she has hung in with me, watched old movies stretched across my bed and munched on popcorn, instead of joining her friends for drinks, dancing on tables, and barhopping like most college seniors.

  I shake my head, feeling guilty. It’s thoughtful of her to be with me, to hang in on my account. But I don’t want her to stop living her life just because mine has been put on hold. The guys are out at a party tonight. Miers messaged me about it. I know Kristen is with him. I know Lila wishes she was there too. I can tell by how quickly she reaches for her phone each time it dings with a message, her fingers flying across the keypad as she types out a reply. Most likely they’re all updates from Kristen. Then a guilty flush settles over her cheeks, and she avoids making eye contact with me.

  After the fourth message, I want to break her phone in half. Just go out with your friend like a normal person, I want to scream at her. Instead, I smile like nothing’s wrong and raise the volume on the TV. We’re watching reruns of New Girl.

  This is what my Saturday nights have become.

  * * *

  Lila is quiet the next afternoon. We’re sitting at my kitchen table, eating lunch. I can’t tell what’s bothering her but her silence is bothering me. I remind myself to relax, to not take everything so personal, to stop acting like a psycho. Her phone chimes sporadically and her attention wavers, periodically shifting to a faraway place and lost to the present.

  After the fifth message, I can’t take it anymore. I put my fork down and stare at her bent head. After a moment, she looks up, her eyes meeting mine, startled.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, placing her phone next to her plate.

  “Are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been messaging all morning. And last night. Something important going on? Something you don’t want to miss out on but are because you’re stuck hanging with me?” There, throw it all out on the table.

  Her eyes narrow, anger slanting the corners sharply. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re completely distracted. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this isn’t where you want to be. So who is it? Which friend? Why don’t you go meet up with Kristen or Sam and do whatever it is you would rather be doing?”

  Her hand slams down on the table. “You’re being ridiculous! Am I not supposed to have friends or a life outside of you?”

  “That’s my point. Of course you are!” My voice rises and I lean forward in my chair. “You’re supposed to be enjoying your senior year. You’re supposed to be going to parties with your friends. You’re supposed to be having fun, smiling, laughing. Instead, you’re cooped up in a house with a bunch of football players playing caretaker to an invalid!”

  “Oh that’s mature. Degrade yourself.”

  “Lila, be real. You’re supposed to have a life. And I hate that you’re wasting your time here, wasting your weekends, hanging out on my couch or sitting on my bed while I fall asleep early. Look, I’m letting you off the hook. I know it must be tough to tell the guy with cancer that this just isn’t for you, but really, it’s not for anyone. No hard feelings. You’re free to go and meet up with whoever you want.”

  “You want me to leave? Are you, what, breaking up with me?”

  “I’m giving you back your life. I’m giving you a choice.”

  “Really? It seems like you’ve already made up your mind about how this conversation is going to go. And then decided to completely blindside me with it. What about what I want?”

  “I know what you want. You want a life. I can’t give you a life. Look at me!” I slam my palm against my chest. And then my anger spikes higher because it actually hurts.

  She pushes back from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Lila looks right at me. She’s hunched forward, her arms braced on the table, palms lying flat on either side of her plate. “Don’t make this about me. What do you want? Do you want me to leave? Just tell me.”

  I nod once, meeting her gaze. “I think it’s for the best if we take a little break. If you focus on you, your internship, your future, your life. And I focus on mine.”

  She laughs but it’s cold, eerie. “A break?”

  I nod again. “Yes.”

  “Screw you, Cade,” she says it softly, menacingly. Her eyes shine momentarily with tears before her blond hair falls forward, shielding her face from view. Then she pushes up off the table and walks past me without turning back.

  A moment later, I hear the front door slam closed.

  Fuck!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lila

  When I leave Cade’s house, I’m furious. I can feel the blood pulsing in my cheeks, my neck, my ears. My hands are trembling and I’m not sure if I want to yell or cry. Just thinking about crying has hot tears welling up, pooling moisture in the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly, holding the tears in until I am in Kristen’s car, around the corner. Then I pull over and choke on anguished sobs.

  It’s highly unattractive.

  I am most certainly ugly-crying. That’s what Maura calls it. The big, heaving sobs that rack your body and cause your eyelids to swell up like you got punched in the face. The type of crying that causes you to breath open-mouthed so you don’t choke on the torrent of water and snot pouring
down your cheeks.

  Ugly crying.

  I almost laugh thinking about Maura and how she asked us all to give her a free pass for all her ugly-crying last semester. I wish she was sitting in the seat next to me now, pressing reassurances into my hand and making quips to force my lips to smile.

  I miss my friends.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt this lonely, this disconnected from everyone.

  I drop my forehead forward on the steering wheel and let the tears flow, the sobs erupt, the anger and frustration and rejection pour out of me. As the tears subside, I feel an aching loneliness that twists my heart and rips through my stomach. My eyelids feel heavy and my head throbs, beating in time with my slowing pulse.

  The thought of facing Kristen or Sam right now is mortifying. I wish I could crawl into a hole and sleep for a few hundred years.

  Or forever.

  Checking my phone, I see four missed calls from Cade, two from Kristen, one from Sam. A stream of text messages light up my inbox, all with various sayings like “call me” and “are you okay?” and “where are you?”

  Not in the mood, I turn my phone off and push my seat back, closing my eyes and floating into the uncertainty of having no one I can count on.

  * * *

  When I wake later, it’s past dusk. The sun has set and the sky is an inky navy, stars hovering above. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Oh yeah, the side of a random road, sleeping in Kristen’s car like a homeless person, avoiding everyone I know.

  I roll my eyes at myself, suddenly feeling mildly ridiculous about my behavior since I’m no longer in the midst of my anger. I turn my phone back on, ignoring all of Cade’s messages and respond to Kristen and Sam in a group message.

  Me: Hey. Sorry for being MIA. Tough day. What are you guys doing tonight? I’m down for going out.

  Their responses are immediate.

  Kristen: Ahh, glad to hear from you. Going to a party on Elm Street. Come! It will be fun. xx

  Sam: Are you okay? Going to a party on Elm. Should be a good time. Come through. I’ll carry your drunk ass home.