Tom continues to stand and stare. His right foot is tapping the floor. He fidgets when he is unsure. I give him a way out. "Is there something else you want to talk about?"
"Sharon, you can't fight them all away. Some of them will fight back. One will fight for you."
Chapter 23: Different Roads To Take
Sharon
My resolve is firm. Under no circumstances will I let my emotions affect Jon's medical care. Easier said than done.
Despite all our discussions, Tom is reluctant. "Are you sure about this, Sharon? Aren't you letting personal issues come in the way?"
"Are you getting cold feet?" I remind Tom of our plan. "You are right, and that is why I need to move out of his care team as we planned. The emotions and attachment are complicating things. It is better to do it now before things become awkward."
"What about you? Are you going to walk away from him? You deserve happiness and love in your life. Maybe he is the one who can give you that." Tom is a mule when he gets stuck on to something.
I stand my ground. "Tom, please don't lead me on to something that doesn't exist. I am not about to become his hundredth girlfriend. His medical care comes first. I am no longer in a position to make the right decisions. The whole issue has become entangled at an emotional level. Doctor-patient ethical rules are made to prevent such situations. And don't forget, you promised me yesterday."
I leave Tom at the nursing station and walk to my room, only to run into Noah. Perfect timing.
"Oh, hi Sharon, I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Harris." Noah blocks my way. What is wrong with this guy? The nerve of this man. I want to punch him in the face.
"What about Mrs. Harris? I don't practice the way you do, Dr. Fitzgerald. Mrs. Harris was doing fine on medications and physio. She is eighty-five, for god's sake. What did you hope to achieve with a knee replacement? All it did was use up her precious retirement money because the insurance company did not pay for it. She is in more pain now and there is no improvement in her mobility. But that wouldn't bother you." I am seething with rage now. "Please, can you move, so I can go and do my work?"
He moves aside, letting me march to my room, locking the door behind me. It is the only way I can stop myself from clawing someone. The solitude helps me calm myself down. Life never comes with easy choices. Not with relationships. Not mine, at least. Why would it be any different this time?
My brooding is interrupted by a knock on my door. I tidy my hair before calling them inside. Jon's mother walks in. This is unexpected. I hadn't factored her response to the changes we were making.
"Are you all right, dear? Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you, but if you are busy, I can come another time," Mrs. Hayes is quick to pick my mood.
"No issues. What can I do for you, Mrs. Hayes?"
"Please call me Nora. I heard about Dr. Thomas being assigned to Jon's care?" She sits on the chair across my desk.
"Yes, you are correct. Tom is an expert in post-traumatic sports rehab. I am only a surgeon. My role has ended. Jon now needs someone to supervise his mobility and physiotherapy. Tom is the best person to do it. Once Tom and Betsy get Jon walking in the room with a walker, he can go home." I ramble on, trying to put in a positive spin.
"Is it the right time?" There is doubt in Mrs. Hayes's mind.
She needs reassurance. I walk over to her and hold her hands, "Trust us, Mrs. Hayes. We have discussed this in detail. An eight-week plan has been charted out. We will keep Jon under close supervision for a week, here at the hospital, and then Betsy will be going over to his place to help with the physiotherapy. She is superb. Tom will keep monitoring him."
She starts to say something but then keeps quiet. After a moment's silence, she gets up. "I shouldn't say anything. You and Jon are adults, so I leave it to you both to sort it out. I have one request though, please don't abandon us, Sharon." Her words surprise me.
With her hands in mine, I allay her concerns, "I am not abandoning you. I will follow up on his progress from time to time. I promised you I will do the best for Jon. Trust me, I have every intention to keep my promise."
Nora's eyes show her concern. She says nothing for some time, staring at me for a while. "My Jon was a hyperactive child. His father got him into sports to help him use his high energy levels. He played everything: baseball, basketball, football, and even ice hockey for a while. He settled for football and wanted to make a career out of playing the game. Jon and his dad were close."
"When my husband died, Jon was only seventeen. Everything crashed around us. Jon worked multiple shifts to earn money to take care of me and Emily. All this while, he did not give up on his dream for making it big in the game. He is a determined boy. He got drafted with the Tornados based on his game."
"The first thing he did when he got the money, was to buy us a decent house and send Emily to the college of her choice. Football has given us everything. It is Jon's universe. Sometimes, he can't see beyond that. He gets blind-sighted and ignores the people who care for him. Will you trust me if I say that deep down, he is a caring person?"
How do I deal with this? She needs to understand that I have everyone's interest in mind. "I understand, Nora. Believe me, what I am doing is for everyone's benefit. Jon and Nate are on top of that list."
She holds my hand as I walk her out. We chat as we walk. I stop at the door to Jon's room. We hug each other. I say my goodbye without looking back because if I do, my self-control will break. I need to get him to the playing field. It is a promise I make to myself. If that requires us to take different roads, so be it.
Chapter 24: Misery at Home
Jon
Weeks pass by. I should be glad to be home—happy to spend time with friends and family, happy to have home-cooked food. I should be glad to be with Nate. It's funny, how all this time, I wanted to be out of the hospital but when I am finally home, I do not want it as much. I want to be near Sharon.
Two days after the tiff with Naomi, Sharon handed over my care to Dr. Thomas. I tried to get her alone to clear the mess, but there were always people around her. The focus of the entire medical team was on getting me mobile. The next thing I find out, she takes off to Malaysia for a 'long-deserved vacation'. My mother's words, not mine. I was furious and frustrated.
Even when she returned, I hardly ever saw her. I was hoping to meet her on the day of my discharge. She never came. Instead, a box of cupcakes arrived for Nate.
It hurts every time I think about how I messed up. Uncomfortable with how things fizzled out with Sharon. Upset that my leg keeps me from chasing her. On top of all this misery, is my constant worry about my career.
Sharon may not understand my predicament. I wonder if she has ever watched a game. Can she comprehend how frustrated I am at present? What does it mean to be sidelined with an injury like mine? Where no one gives me a chance? This injury cost me a shot at another Super Bowl. If I cannot recover and get back to practice in the pre-season, I may lose the next season. It is not about money. Not being able to play is a huge risk. The franchise will start looking for a replacement. Maybe a trade or a draft pick. The rumors are floating in the media.
If only Sharon would give me a chance to make things right. Deep in my heart, I am sure about one thing. The key to my professional and personal happiness now lies in her hands.
Every week, Jason drives me to the hospital for a checkup. I meet Tom, get new instructions and drive back home. She is never there. Every week, they give me the same reason. She is on leave. By the eighth week, my patience gives way.
I confront Tom, "Does she take so many leaves?"
Tom glances up and goes back to prescribing without saying a word.
"Is she avoiding me?" Time to stop beating about the bush. "Tom, please help me meet her. I need to clear the misunderstanding."
Tom stops working on the keyboard. "Jon, this is one area where I can't help you. You need to find your path. If it makes any difference, in all the years I have known her, she has ne
ver been quieter or sadder than this. Though Sharon will never admit it."
Tom's words are reassuring, but they don't solve my problem. "How do I reach out? She won't meet me. She doesn't respond to my messages. My leg doesn't allow much movement to go after her."
Tom only smiles. "It will, soon. We are taking off the cast. I am prescribing a CAM boot. It will give you greater mobility. Betsy will continue the physio and begin your mobility and muscle strength exercises. If all goes well, in two weeks, we will reassess and consider if we can start your football training."
The hope is alive. I message her one more time about my progress, and how delighted I am that she saved my leg. She has done a splendid job. Unless someone examines my leg closely, the scars are difficult to find.
Sharon does not respond. I might as well be communicating with a wall, but I need to keep the hope alive in my heart.
Not a simple task. My frustration grows each day. At home, facing Nate is a bigger issue. Not a day passes when he does not ask about meeting Sharon. I use the time at the stadium to distract myself.
Betsy protests, but I am stubborn. I walk around with a limp, immerse myself in the physio and any upper body exercises I can do at the gym.
My patience and confidence are at an all-time low. There are days when I want to drive up to her door and confront her. The fear of making it worse stops me.
One day when Betsy is helping me out, Nate comes home from school, all worked up. "Dad, I will not talk to you if you do not take me to meet Sharon."
I try to console him. "She is busy, Nate. I will take you next time."
"You always promise to, but you never take me. I like her dad. I want to meet her!" It hurts to see his eyes moist and not have a solution.
Betsy intervenes, witnessing my struggle. "You can meet her at the Holy Christ Church in Roxbury. She is organizing a fundraiser for our charity. You will love it, Nate."
"Will you take me, please?" Nate pleads with Betsy.
"Sure, I will. I am sure she will be glad to meet you." Nate runs off to his room after thanking Betsy.
Betsy's words raise my hopes, but what if Sharon does not meet us? It will break Nate's heart. I need to warn Betsy. "Do you think this is a good idea? You shouldn't have raised his hopes. She may push him away. The way she has pushed me out."
"Not sure about you, but Nate is special to her. She often asks about him."
What is Betsy trying to say? I ignore the jibe. "What is this charity about?"
Betsy tells me about the work Sharon and her group do for kids in the Roxbury area. They are part of a Youth Build program run by the church. The group comprises people at the hospital. Betsy and Tom are part of the group. They help these kids get a decent education and get into colleges, by diverting their attention from drugs and violence. I have an idea. I speak to Jason and Stephen at night to set it all up.
Chapter 25: I Don't Need Your Charity
Sharon
The applause gets my eyes to well up. I can't help it if I turn into an emotional jelly in such tender moments. But these are tears of happiness for my children. It takes a while for the applause to settle down. The children are all smiling, their eyes sparkling with excitement. They are jumping and hugging each other.
The positive vibes are a bonus. A memory that will help these kids throughout their lives, I hope. We have received a decent number of donations for us to send some of these kids to college. But not all the kids. The gap in the donations is still in the back of my mind. It is the only hitch of the evening so far. We need to do more.
Tom calls me to the stage, snapping me out of my thoughts. Another round of applause follows. All the kids on the stage gather around me. The hugs keep coming.
Tom makes another announcement, sending a tremor through my body as I turn towards the audience. "We have special guests sitting in the audience today. Please help me welcome the players from Tornado on stage."
Jon and his teammates walk on to the stage. I freeze at the sight. The shock of seeing him after so many weeks nails my feet to the ground. My mind stops working and so do my legs. How do I run from the stage?
While I am paralyzed, small arms clutch my legs. Nate's tight hold wakes me out of my stupor. I bend to pick him up. He has tears in his eyes.
"I missed you, Sharon."
I kiss him all over his face as words desert me. He puts his head on my shoulder. The conflict in my mind roars, raising its ugly head again. One side warns me. What am I doing, leading him on? The other side chides me for torturing Nate.
Maybe I should speak to Jon and try to work out a solution for Nate. But what will I tell Jon? What if Jon asks about my feelings for him? Will I be able to deny them?
If I cross the line again, am I prepared for what happens next? Or do I have the courage to snap all ties with Jon and push Nate away? The only solution at this moment is to walk away from both.
On the other side of the stage, Jon hands over a box to Tom and Betsy. He takes the mic from Tom. "The kids were extraordinary. The work that Dr. Sharon, Dr. Thomas, Betsy, and the entire team are doing, is simply great. We want to contribute to this effort. We have made a small contribution to this event. It is our way to thank you all for your love and affection." His words lead to another round of applause.
Jon walks over and hands me an envelope, along with a bouquet. I avoid his eyes and hand over both to Betsy, who is standing next to me. The clapping makes Jon's words inaudible. Acknowledging the audience helps me avoid his gaze.
I have no choice except to put on a smile, as we are amongst so many people. I hand over Nate to Jon. The kids from our group gather around Jon, wanting to talk to him and take selfies. This serves as my escape. I get off the stage and slip out.
The last thing I want is to face or speak to Jon. During his visits to the hospital, I had kept away and made sure we did not meet. I hoped the distance would increase and memory would fade. But seeing him and Nate brought down the straw walls I had built.
I would have to work on building a stronger wall—my only defense against falling for him. I sit in one of the changing rooms, waiting for people to leave and hiding from Jon and Nate.
Betsy brings the children to the changing room. Before she speaks, I stop her. I take her hand and lead her out to a more secluded spot where we can talk in private. "How could you do this? Why did you bring him here?"
Betsy shakes her head in disapproval. "I am sorry if you feel that way, but I am your friend. How long will you fight your heart? Why are you hurting him and yourself? Why take it out on Nate? He adores you, Sharon. He misses you. I see them struggle every day."
Betsy moves closer, but I hold up my hand. The frustration, coupled with anger, unleashes the demon inside me. I lash out at her and lose control of my voice. My body shakes in anger. "Please Betsy, don't push me towards Jon. It will only lead to heartbreak and hurt. Jon will find someone, and Nate will learn to love her. I need to give them space."
I walk away, not wanting to discuss anything more on this matter. This is not me, and I hate myself for this behavior. I hope Betsy will back off. Her eyes tell me this is not the last word. She is one determined woman.
Chapter 26: Pining
Jon
Clank 25. . . clank 26. . . The plates of my home multi-gym drown the misery engulfing my mind and burn the calories I gain eating cake. One particular variety. The ones in small paper cups. Nate only allows me one piece every week. A small consolation for my pathetic existence.
The boxes arrive with clockwork precision every Monday with a note for him but none for me. He is collecting them. Each note is displayed on his work desk. He reads them every night before going to bed. So do I after I tuck him in. This gesture from Sharon keeps a flicker of hope alive in me, and yet, not a single word comes from her. There is absolute radio silence.
I have taken to the gym with a vengeance. I'm focused on my upper body, but for legs, I still depend on Betsy for the baby steps I am taking towards full fitness
. The slight stiffness and occasional pain at a particular angle force me to adjust my walk. It will go with time. Nothing I can't handle. Such niggles are a part of competitive sports, and I am used to it.
Betsy doesn't appreciate my exertion and trips to the stadium. What else can I do? If I stay at home, I will sulk and drown myself with drinks. I don't wish to end up as the bloated version of Thor from Avengers. Sometimes I wonder which part of my body hurts more, my injured leg or my torn heart.
I have stopped hanging out with my mates. I gave up after a week because every time, the talk ended up around football and girls. Neither of which I can have at present.
Mind you, there are plenty of them who flirt around, trying to grab my attention. There is never a vacuum with my fame. However, the only girl I have my eyes, mind, and heart set on, is nowhere to be seen. I zone out every time I think about her, as I did now.
"You in there, bro." Jason swats me out of the zone with a towel.
Clank 24. . . clank 25. . . wait a minute. Where was I? Damn, I lost count of my reps again. I let go of the handle. The plates land with a loud bang. What now? Because nothing I do distracts me for longer than a few minutes.
"You are thinking about her again." Jason lets out a groan. "Jon, you gotta man up and go to her instead of hiding here and brooding."
"It is not easy, man. I am not used to this kind of situation. What if I fumble?"
"Says the quarterback who fights through 250-pound men racing at him. Out playing them every day. When did you become a wimp?"
Jason is right, I am turning into a wussy at the sight of this girl with curls. I never worried about consequences when I went after a woman but the tackle by Naomi cost me the play. I don't want to lose the game with Sharon.
"Sharon is different. She makes me unsure. Fear makes me second guess and debate everything. I am scared of a wrong move. Doing things right weighs heavy because I want her. Losing Sharon would be the equivalent of losing a Super Bowl."
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