by Lucy Snow
Lance was completely silent. One time I thought I saw his eyes following me around the room, but he never spoke.
Finally, and stubbornly, I broke the silence, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “You know, Lance Parker, it could have been much worse.”
His eyes snapped to me, and Lance glared at me. “How could it have been any worse?”
“You can still play this year, if everything goes well. And you should be fine for next season.”
Lance groaned out loud. “I don’t think you understand, Charlotte.”
I crossed my arms under my chest and leaned back against the counter on the opposite wall. “Then explain it to me, Lance, don’t keep me in the dark for no reason.”
Lance sighed and closed his eyes. “Every game I lose is a chance for Oliver Lee to take my job from me permanently. If I don’t get back out on the field quickly, there’ll be no reason for the team to keep me.”
“But you’re better than Oliver Lee.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“So the team will welcome you back when you’re healthy.”
“Lee’s contract is even cheaper than mine, Charlotte, and he’s got a couple more years on his deal.” He looked exasperated. “Most people think professional football is all about winning championships. It is, of course, but there’s a business underneath it all. And business is about finding the most efficient way to do well.”
“I get all that. So you need to get back on the field quick?”
“Yes, exactly. And in a few weeks if Oliver wins a few games, they won’t think twice about keeping him on as the starter even if I come back better than ever.”
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us, I stopped at the foot of his bed, resting my hands on the cold railing and wrapping my fingers around it. “What’re you going to do next, then?”
Lance looked down and dropped his hand on his right thigh, grimacing as pain clearly shot up his leg. “Whatever it takes to come back from this as quickly as I can, what other choice do I have?”
I didn’t even make an attempt to hide the hope in my voice. “Can I help?” My voice was soft, a plaintive question that hung in the air of the room.
Lance closed his eyes again, then opened them. “No, Charlotte, you can’t.”
“But…”
He cut me off. “I got into this mess by not listening to you. Or maybe listening to you too much, and now I’m gonna have to get myself out of it.”
I had no idea how to take that. I wanted to just leave the room and leave Lance alone for a little while, let him collect himself.
Without another word, I went to the door and opened it, but turned back toward the bed just before I went through.
“Are you…are you firing me?”
Lance still stared at the ceiling. “No, I’m not. Not yet.”
I left the room, unable to say another word.
‘Not yet.’ What the hell did that mean?
CHAPTER 09 - LANCE
A couple weeks passed and I didn’t see much of Charlotte. She came in the room a couple times a day to make sure everything was alright, but we didn’t speak much, and I liked it that way.
Let’s be a little more clear - I hated it that way. Every time I saw her my heart broke into smaller and smaller pieces and I wanted to jump out of bed and take her into my arms.
But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do anything to help her, to make this easier. Mainly because I couldn’t do anything for myself and it frustrated me to no end.
To Charlotte’s credit she took it like a champ, never complaining or getting mad at me. I knew I was being a bastard but I didn’t know any other way to act. The most important thing for me was to get better and get back on the field, and I didn’t have the space for anything else.
Most days I just lay in bed or did a little bit of physical therapy. I kept up with the team, and saw a bunch of teammates as they came to visit me.
The next three weeks went rough for the Patriots. Oliver Lee showed the same growing pains as most rookie quarterbacks when they get their first taste of the bright lights and roaring crowds, and while he showed a little bit of promise in his first three starts, the Patriots lost all three games, putting them at 3-3 for the season so far.
There were 10 games left, and with the pressure coming on from the Jets and Dolphins, we’d have to have at least 10, probably 11+ wins if we wanted to guarantee ourselves a playoff spot. We needed that playoff spot.
So either Oliver needed to turn things around or I needed to get back on the field and play up to my previous level. A tall order, even for a guy as tall as I was.
I watched the week 6 loss to the Bills on the TV in my recovery room, hitting my head back against the pillow each time Oliver Lee missed an open read or threw a dangerous pass into double or even triple coverage, just begging for an interception.
By the time the game was over there were tears in my eyes and I wanted to throw things, but luckily at that moment I didn’t have anything nearby and I didn’t want to hobble over and get something.
Charlotte came in as I howled in frustration and to her eternal credit, she said nothing. Of course she had seen the game too - inside the facility it was nearly impossible to not have a TV within view. We didn’t say a word to each other, Charlotte just pulled up a chair and sat down next to me and we stared at the opposite wall, watching the post-game breakdown on the news.
It felt terrible, seeing my brothers out there losing another game but being unable to help them. Even if we hadn’t won with me there, at least I’d get to share in their pain, help them through it while they helped me through mine. Now, though, we were going through separate trials, and our connection, though not severed, was getting weaker by the day.
After a couple hours of post game review I just turned off the TV and turned my head to the side, looking out the window at the fading Foxboro afternoon as the sun went down. Charlotte got up and left.
Neither of us had said a word in hours.
The next morning Coach Armstrong came to see me, freshly back from the game in Buffalo. I sat up a little in my bed, but Coach didn’t seem to notice, standing right next to me. “Good morning, Coach.”
“What’s good about it?” Normally when someone said that there was a chance they were joking. There was no chance Coach Armstrong was joking. Coach Armstrong probably didn’t know what joking meant.
“Well, the weather seems pretty nice today,” I said, pointing at the window where the sun came through.
Coach Armstrong grunted. “Saw the game last night?”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded toward the TV on the opposite wall. “Nearly had it there, Lee just kept trying to force it a bit too hard.”
Coach Armstrong grimaced. “That’s an understatement, alright.”
“What can I do for you, Coach?” As much as I loved and respected Coach Armstrong for the opportunity he had given me and the things I had learned about football from him, he wasn’t exactly the most fun person to talk to, and I couldn’t exactly walk away from this conversation whenever I wanted. My knee was getting better slowly, but it wasn’t at that level yet where I could run away from my head coach.
“I’m here to check on your progress.” Coach Armstrong didn’t really need to do that, the training and medical staff was for sure giving him updates every day or so on my recovery.
I tapped my knee lightly with my right hand. “It’s definitely feeling better, sir. I haven’t tried putting too much weight on it yet, but I’m optimistic.”
“Optimism is for people who aren’t prepared nearly well enough.” Coach Armstrong had dozens of sayings like that, but unlike others who could come up with profound-sounding statements, Coach Armstrong lived and coached by them.
I wiped the smile off my face. “I’ll be ready to go as soon as I can, Coach. I can’t wait to get back on the field.”
“Good. We’ll need you. But before then I have another thing I need from you.”
> My ears pricked up. “Su-sure, Coach, anything, what can I do for you?”
“I’m going to send Oliver Lee around here to come and see you.”
I had expected Coach Armstrong to tell me to be nicer to Charlotte more than what he’d actually said. “Why’s that, Coach?” I asked when I’d grabbed hold of my senses again.
“Kid needs a little guidance. It’s not easy to be the starting qb just after you’ve been drafted.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Exactly. So give him a few pointers, make him feel like the world isn’t ending every time he throws a bad pass.”
“It does, mean, though, that our playoff window is closing.”
“You let me worry about that. Just make sure the kid’s head is screwed on straight.”
I really didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t do that. “Sure, Coach, I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
Coach Armstrong straightened up. “Good man.” He turned toward the door before looking back at me. “Glad you’re on the team, Parker,” he said softly, and then was gone.
I pressed by head back into the pillow below me.
Shit. This was bad. I didn’t want to help Oliver Lee do anything except be my backup. How could Coach Armstrong expect me to help a guy steal my job from me? It made no sense!
I had to get out of this bed asap and get back onto the field. This just made things that much worse, that much more urgent.
I thought about pushing the button to call Charlotte and tell her all about what had just happened, and I even picked up the dongle and started to push the button before I stopped. No, I didn’t want to get her involved with this.
Not when something could go wrong, I didn’t want her to get in trouble.
I knew who I could call. Hud would help me out, I knew it. I pulled out my phone and texted him. Hud responded almost immediately and 10 minutes later he was sneaking into my room. “Hey bro, I came as quick as I could. What’s up?”
“I gotta get out of here, Hud, I gotta get back on the field before Lee steals my spot.”
Hud nodded slowly in sympathy. “Fuck yes, that’s what I want to hear, my man. How can I help?”
“Is the coast clear?” I nodded to the door behind Hud. He smiled and peeked out the door, looking from left to right before turning back.
“Yeah, looks like it. I think Charlotte might be out getting something to eat.”
“Quick, man, help me into the wheelchair.”
Hud came around and got the wheelchair. I pulled the blankets off and Hud helped me into the chair. “Let’s go, before she comes back.”
Hud checked the door one more time and then opened it, wheeling me down the hall, both of us smiling and giggling like schoolgirls.
It felt exhilarating to be out of that bed and that room. We roamed the halls, trying to avoid any team personnel we could find. Hud took me out to one of the smaller practice fields.
After a couple minutes we located a ball and started playing catch, me sitting in my wheelchair and Hud first 10 feet away. After I completed 5 passes, Hud would take a few steps back and we’d continue.
It felt so good to be out there and feel the wind in my hair again, the sun on my shoulders. It was starting to cool down in Massachusetts as the leaves turned brown and fall really started to settle in, but I couldn’t feel any of the biting cold on me, I was having too much fun.
After a few misses when Hud got really far away he jogged back toward me. “Feeling pretty good, yeah? Looks like you’ve kept up your strength despite no time in the weight room.”
“I could still take you down, big fella.”
Hud laughed out loud, echoing across the practice field. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” He kept guffawing till I started laughing too. I was no wimp; I was a professional athlete, but Hud made me look like a small child. The man turned heads with his muscles just walking down the street. He had to get all his clothes custom made, much to his chagrin.
“What do we do next, Lance?” Hud asked when he’d finally calmed down.
“Same thing again.” I said, with a spark in my eye. “But this time…” I got up, out of the wheelchair, resting on my own two feet on the grass outdoors for the first time since I could remember.
It felt perfect. The only way it could have been better was if Charlotte were here, I realized right then, instead of us having to avoid her stern gaze.
I looked across at Hud for the first time in weeks, at the grin that broke his genial face in two, and we both laughed. Hud tossed me the ball and we started our game of increasingly-distant catch all over again.
It was a really good exercise for a quarterback, making it easy to pinpoint the distance where accuracy problems came in. It was also great for a defensive player like Hud, who used it to practice his intercepting skills.
I didn’t put too much weight on my right leg, but as I started turning into my throws as Hud got further and further away, I noticed none of the pain I had felt immediately after the injury.
Maybe just a few weeks of Charlotte’s care and I was back to normal already? Maybe I could get back on the field this week and get my job back before Oliver Lee got too comfortable?
Just the thought of doing so lifted my spirits even further. I needed this.
And then Charlotte appeared. I don’t know how she found me, found us, but just as Hud and I were starting to really get far apart, Charlotte appeared at the side of the field and stood there, watching us.
She had her hands on her waist and even from here I could see the disapproving look on her face, her head shaking slowly as she watched us.
She looked so perfect outside - all I could remember of her by now was seeing her in my room or in the quarterbacks’ training room deep in the bowels of the facility. Seeing her outside took the vision of her beauty to another level, I could barely contain myself.
I waved after a particularly long throw and pointed to my knee, a big smile on my face, and I could see Charlotte’s face soften even from this distance. I knew I would catch hell for this from her when I came back in, but for now I was just having way too much fun to stop.
It felt good to move again, to stretch dormant muscles and push them tentatively at first toward their limits. This was what I did for a living; this was who I am. If I wasn’t exercising, pushing my body every day to do just a little bit more, I wasn’t alive anymore.
And now that Charlotte was watching me again, it was even better. Yeah, things were finally starting to look up again.
Hud took another step back and threw me the ball, a little off, but I only had to lean over a little bit to make the catch. I took a big step back then eyed the distance between us. I could definitely make this.
I looked back at Charlotte on the sideline before I threw and I could see her shaking her head again, but this time she was smiling. I knew she thought I was showing off, and I totally was showing off, but I’d never let her know that.
I thought the throw went off clean, but as I was entering my customary follow through, one I had done literally tens of thousands of times in my life, I felt a wrenching from my right knee and I crumpled to the ground, just barely getting my hands down fast enough to avoid taking a face full of dirt. As I went down I could see Hud and Charlotte both running toward me already.
I lay there on the ground, trying not to move. I was angry already, angry at myself for not taking things slower and angry that two of my favorite people in the whole world were going to see me helpless like this.
“Lance, are you alright? Where does it hurt?” Charlotte had reached me first, but I heard Hud huffing right behind her as he caught up.
“Same knee, right knee,” I said, and started to roll myself over onto my back. Hud reached down and helped me out, and I lay on the ground staring up at Charlotte’s worried face.
“Hey there, Charlotte,” I whispered to her. “You’re looking mighty-fine today, girl, where you been keeping yourself.”
Charlotte held up a finger. “Don’t pull that crap with me, Lance Parker, not now.” She got down on her knees and started feeling around my knee with her practiced hands. “You didn’t break anything, you probably just twisted it around again.”
That didn’t sound good, but at least nothing was broken. I almost choked up as I asked, “Will it slow me down? I was feeling really good out there.”
Charlotte looked back at me like she was trying to decide what to say, or how to break it to me. “Yes, Lance, I think it might slow you down a bit. I can’t believe you snuck out and came here of all places.”
I looked at her like she didn’t understand me at all. “It was the place I wanted to be most in the world.”
“The field?”
“Hell yeah, the field. Out here and tossing a ball back and forth. This is who I am, Charlotte. If I’m not out here, or getting ready to be out here, I don’t really exist, I don’t really matter anymore.”
Charlotte stared at me like she was weighing whether to argue the point with me or not, but she decided not to in the end. She looked up at Hud, towering above us, clearly not knowing what to do. “Help me get him back in the wheelchair, Hud. We gotta get him back to his room before anyone figures out what happened.”
Hud sprang into action, racing over to the wheelchair and bringing it over. With Charlotte’s direction, Hud helped me up and soon I was safe and back in the seat. A couple minutes later and I was back in my room in the medical wing. After they had helped me back into my bed, Hud excused himself sheepishly, telling me he’d text me later.
That left me and Charlotte alone in the room. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
That clearly wasn’t good enough for Charlotte. She whipped around as she checked the room and my leg. “How could you do that unsupervised, Lance? Do you know how much you could have hurt yourself out there?”
I cocked an eye at her. “More than I actually did?”
“Don’t get glib with me. That was a really dumb thing you just did. I can’t believe you didn’t ask me first.”