Tom started with little nuggets of information, which progressed to a daily debriefing on the Tornado's progress and Jon's plays. I gave up protesting after a few times because Tom would not let go.
Today is one of those days, I confront him.
"Are we doing this? Again?" I slam the patient charts on Tom's chest. He flinches in mock pain, or perhaps real pain, but I don't care. He puts on a poor show of looking puzzled. I do not let him walk away, thrusting the news clip on Jon at Tom's face.
"How the hell did we land here, Tom? Why are our conversations only about Jon? What game are you playing by putting these news items between the patient charts?"
Tom tries to speak, but I stop him, "What happened to the good old knee surgeries and patient cases we used to talk about? Why bring the NFL and Jon in between us? For the last few months, the only topic of conversation is football. Why?"
"Why?" He shakes his head, "Why because I want season tickets to the best seats at the Super Bowl."
"Really now?"
Tom blows a breath and rolls his eyes. "Why because I want the firebrand Sharon back. We all miss the queen of Geekdom. The Ms. Geeky Meeky who doesn't take shit from anyone. She does not hide."
"But Ms. Geeky Meeky also has a heart which is shattered because she let a stupid sports jock play with it. The pieces are still inside, and they hurt every day." I counter him.
"Then go and have surgery."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Channelize your inner Ms. Geeky Meeky. Go punch him in the face. That should serve the pretty boy right."
"Yeah, perfect plan to get myself arrested."
"Ok, bad idea. How about lure him and punch him in the balls? At most what will happen, he will end up with a hematocoel. Being the hotshot sports jock, he won't be able to report it."
"Eww, so gross, though the concept has a distinct wicked appeal. But violence on his person is not a reason to go back and repeat the mistake of hurting myself again."
"Are you prepared to listen to some reasons from my point of view?" Tom sobers up.
"Number one, you were the most alive with Jon. I have never seen you so happy. Second, I want revenge for the way he hurt my best friend. Make him grovel before you. You better not take him back till you make him crawl on his knees for a hundred rounds of that stupid stadium he chose over you. And last but the most important reason - you need closure."
I have never seen Tom get emotional.
"Listen, girl. I want to see you happy. You should be proud of what you did for that man. Even the experts are talking about the amazing plays Jon has put in this season. Oh boy, you should have seen the last game against the Beavers. The spin move Jon put up against the defensive end was awesome. Jon pivoted on that left leg and ran 30 yards like a gazelle to score a touchdown. He is a man on a mission. At least we can be happy about the work we did, helping another athlete recover from a dreadful injury."
I put a stop to his raving, unable to hold it anymore.
"I want to be happy for myself too. Somehow, all my happiness has got entangled with Jon and I don't know how to untangle it."
Tom hugs me, "Oh dear, I am so sorry to bring this up. How long will you carry this hurt? I only want to make things better. Don't give up on yourself, Sharon. Let time heal you."
"How do I heal? I can't even block his number. Jon keeps texting me his milestones. The day he returned to practice, the day he had a full session, the day he played his first full match and they won. I do not respond to any of his messages. I hate those messages, yet, a part of me waits for them."
I turn away from Tom, staring at the atrium through the window in his room. "When Nate broke his arm, Nora kept her promise of accompanying Nate on all visits. I was thankful but somewhere deep down, I wished Jon would come at least once."
Tom joins me at the window. "Then why don't you tell Jon? Reach out to him."
I shake my head, "No, I won't put myself in the same position. At the mercy of his mistrust. He needs to learn to trust me."
Tom stays silent, but his eyes tell me he still is hopeful. What about me? As friends, we fight and I may shrug his efforts off as banter, but it is hard to lock away these desires for Jon. I try and keep failing. I'm still trying and finding it difficult to hold on to my resolve.
The six-foot-four statue stands in the courtyard of my memory. I have created a forest of work around it, hoping to hide it away. Yet, I can't pretend it is not there. My heart hops over to the other side, wanting to take a peek. The world does not help matters, pushing me in the front every time.
Sometimes it is difficult even to walk in the hospital. When I move out of Tom's room people passing by give funny looks. I walk to Richard's room. He had called me to his office. One gain from this drama in my life was discovering a new side to Richard. He has become protective of me—like an elder brother watching out for his kid sister.
"Take a seat, Sharon." Richard points me to the couch in his room.
The moment I sit down, I recognize the voice on the TV. Jon is in an interview on a sports channel. The Tornados are in the playoffs, having topped their division. Jon's name is up for the most valuable player.
I stand, not in a mood to watch Jon. "I will come back later."
Richard stops me and asks me to stay. "The broadcast aired last night. Sharon, please listen to this."
He leaves me with no choice. The interviewer asks Jon, "You have had an amazing recovery. Last year, after the injury, did you ever imagine you would be back and be in the playoffs next season?"
The camera zooms in on Jon, "The injury devastated me. It shook my belief and confidence. It was my worst nightmare come true. Most doctors did not give me a chance of getting back on the field. For me, it was not good enough. Heck, I want to play for a long time. The team at B &; N Care worked hard to mend my leg. They were awesome. The support they gave me, is the only reason I am sitting here."
"What is the one thing that helped you in recovering from the severe injury?" the host shoots the next question.
The camera is on Jon again, "Someone close to me once asked me to take one step at a time. That is what I have done all this while."
The focus shifts to the interviewer, "You are a strong person. What has been your greatest strength during this difficult time?"
Jon shakes his head and sighs. "Contrary to public belief, I am not strong on the inside. I am temperamental. When the going gets tough, I panic. Like the time the NFL suspended me” He stops and clasps his hand on the table.
“I let down the one person who mattered most in my life. The one person who was and is my greatest strength. I gave up on her, pushing her away and not trusting her. If I had been strong, I would have fought for her. I ran away when the world gave her shit. I left her to fend for herself by shutting my door on her.”
“In her most vulnerable moment, I was not there. She had my back despite all the hate hurled at her. I am not strong, I am a coward who hid behind my insecurities and frustration. I let anger cloud my mind. A strong person would never let emotions come in the way."
The TV camera focuses on Jon's face. He rubs his eyes with his fingers. "I would give up everything, even this career if it would help make up for what I did to her. If it would undo the damage I have caused."
I cannot listen to this any longer. "Did you call me to listen to this? Patients are waiting for me in my OPD."
"Yes, we did. Sharon." Tom settles next to me.
“Is this about the news clip you slipped in today?”
He nods, "you need to meet him. Give him a chance to explain. Deep down he is hurting. Only you can put him together," Tom places his hand on mine.
I pull away from him, "Don't start on those lines, Tom. I am not walking that path again."
"Please, at least watch the entire interview." Richard joins Tom. I sit back on the chair and close my eyes, trying to calm myself and avoid looking at the TV monitor.
Jon responds to another question by the an
chor. "The only reason I am playing is to tell this world she did the most wonderful job on me. Every day, from the moment I wake up and put my foot down, to the moment I go back to bed, I thank her. Every game I play, I do it in her name. I want to win this championship for her. It is the least I can do. A small way of atoning for what I did. I understand that she will never forgive me even if I beg her. I don't deserve forgiveness."
This is getting too much to take. I need to leave.
"Tom and Richard, I appreciate what you are trying to do. This will not help. It is a mere publicity stunt."
Tom shakes his head. "Can't you see? His apology is genuine. Jon loves you, Sharon and you love him too. He has opened himself in front of millions. He deserves another chance but more than him, Sharon, you deserve another chance. Love like this won't come again."
"Love needs trust, Tom. The thing is in short supply between us. He doesn't have faith in me. He pushed me away the moment his career was under threat. I don't love him." Six months after the door was shut on my face, my eyes still burn at Jon’s mention, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not for this man. The hurt and pain are still raw.
"Do you think saying you don't love him will wipe away your feelings for him?"
I may ignore Tom's words, but he is right. I have tried hard, using every method. Meditation, art classes, and even meeting a psychologist. I failed in all my attempts. Not a day passes by when I don't think of him. I walk out of the room, ignoring the pleas from Tom and Richard.
Without realizing it, I walk into the coffee shop. The place where it all began. The place where I lowered my defenses and let Jon in. I order my latte and sit down, my mind is blank as I stare at the sun playing hide and seek with the trees.
Betsy surprises me at the cafe. More like an ambush. She sits down beside me after handing me my coffee. "Sharon, I am no one to say this." She shuts me down when I protest. "No, let me finish. I have no right to say anything to you about Jon after what he did. I blame myself for leading you on. I have a part in your suffering. This fifty-year-old gray-haired friend of yours made a mistake."
"Betsy, you don't need to apologize. You had my best interest and you couldn't have predicted Jon would be a jerk."
Betsy nods her head. "Yes, I should have been careful before shoving you two together. He is a fool, but I was never wrong about one thing." She puts her coffee mug down. "He loves you."
"Hey, where is this coming from?" Not her too. Today, the phrase 'who needs enemies' is proving too true for my comfort.
"Calm down. Don't rush out of here. Listen and then decide on your own." She opens her phone and places it in front of me.
"What? I am not reading any social media posts. I have had it till here. I am already a convict in their court."
Betsy sits in silence for a while, then she speaks what is on her mind.
"You are correct in a way, but I can no longer see you move around like an empty shell. You were never this gloomy despite facing some difficult situations in the past three years. Forgive this interfering old fool, but I can't hold back. His interview last night I changed my decision. Do you know, social media is trending a hashtag for both of you?"
I shake my head. She picks up her phone, enters the password and shows me the twitter feed. There are 30,000 tweets for #forgiveusdoctor and #forgiveJon
"Sharon, I don't have to tell you. Life is difficult. And love in real life is not a storybook. Fairytales have their twists and turns. I am not sure you will find your happy ending, though every day I pray for you. There will always be stumbles leading to bruises, and pain. Relationships are never easy. With Jon, it will be tougher under constant public scrutiny. Be prepared for the fallouts and disagreements."
"But never let silence shroud you in such a haze that you don't recognize the voice coming from here." She holds my hand and places it on my chest, nodding at me. There is kindness, understanding, and comfort in her eyes. Wisdom in her words. "Don't drift apart so much that when you want to walk towards him, you get lost and can't find your way back."
Throughout the rest of the day, I debate and fight with myself. Once again, torn between my mind and my heart. I'm not on board with Jon using an interview to apologize, but his words were genuine. The distance I created is only a mirage.
What to do with my rational mind? The nitpicker is at it again. One voice uplifting and encouraging giving my heart hope and wings, the other strapping a dead weight, dragging me down and tethering me to the past. I want to fly and go to Jon. However, the critic housed inside my skull shoots arrow after arrow, scolding, shaming and berating me.
I puff up my chest and firm my resolve, I can live alone. Why do I need anyone? All this while, I fended for myself. So why change now? Then I picture him or Nate, or even his family, and the air leaves my chest. Poof, it punctures all my bluster. Somewhere deep inside, the realization keeps the embers burning. If I have to find happiness, my heart needs to punch its way out of this corner.
Do I have the strength to do it?
I do not sleep the whole night, tossing in my bed. When morning comes, my body and mind are exhausted, like walking out of the hospital after a week's rotation during my fellowship. When the sun shines through the window, I head for the shower. The warm water soothes the head and body. After the bath, I grab my yoga mat and meditate for some time to calm myself. The final stop before I head out is the coffee machine.
When I sit to have my breakfast, alone in my apartment, the silence hurts. I open the journal lying next to the empty flower vase. My finger traces the one word written on the last touched page. The memory of the morning many months ago overwhelms my senses. I had so much to do that day. Nate's birthday cake took time, and I had to rush out, leaving the words bubbling in my mind for some other day.
Now I have forgotten what those words were, except for this one which stands like me on this page—all alone. The ink has dried and is dark. It has been months since I last wrote on these pages. Strange how one bad turn in life wipes away everything. A tear drops and smudges the word—Love. I can't stop the sob breaking out. I pick up the pen and fidget with it for a while. With a deep sigh, I express the unspoken, pouring my feelings on paper.
Love is a sigh,
The whisper of a heartbeat in solitude,
Murmurs set aflutter in a moment of fortitude,
The rustle of desires hushed,
Strewn on life's cobblestoned path, trampled and crushed.
Love is a sigh,
Exhale and let be gone,
Of making sacrifices and be done,
A groan for forgiveness without judgment,
Amidst the silent moans of banishment.
Love is a sigh,
An aching for trust,
A yearning for understanding without the lust,
Embracing the wait and no help from Providence,
For my love's lasting affection and confidence.
I finish the coffee and take one last look at the page; it is time for me to decide.
Chapter 54: Kung Fu Fighting
Jon
Three days have passed. There is no word from Sharon. I miss the snarl and her quirks. The desperation rises every day and the hope diminishes by the hour. The training sessions and team meetings, watching tapes and going through the playbook before the major game night, do not help.
I had put myself out there when she left me no choice. The wall she built is too high for me to climb. I hope she will see, or someone will tell her. My fans started a movement using social media, but it did not matter. The only important thing is her forgiveness.
The day of the championship game is here. We have finished our morning training session. While I change, a sudden silence descends on the locker room. My back straightens. The skin tingles. A shiver of excitement starts buzzing through my body. The force of attraction that started on the interstate returns, riding on the freshness of lilies.
The comet I am waiting for is here. This time make no mistake I will
make her the center of my solar system. I turn to where everyone's eyes are focused. Sharon is in the same room as me. It is a sight I pine for every breathing moment of my life.
Sharon stands at the entrance to the locker room. Nerves and anxiety writ all over her face. Her hands are tucked in the pockets of her black jeans. Shoulders hunched towards her chest. The black and white checkered short coat hides a white halter neck top. Curls of hair cascade from her head to her shoulders. When she spots me, she steps inside. The fancy paw earrings dangle as she walks toward me.
She is adorable and I am a lovesick panda for her. I want to lick her face, rub our noses together. Lay on her lap and wrap around her. I want Sharon in every way—as a girlfriend, as a life partner and as a mother to Nate.
Someone clears their throat. I turn towards the sound. Jason is sitting near me. He whispers, "Don't you dare mess this up." He nudges me forward in Sharon's direction and adds in a whisper. "Hide those dimples. Look serious."
A counter nudge from my elbow cuts him off. How can I stop smiling? Her mere presence lights up my world. In my mind, I am jumping and pumping fists.
"Hi," I get up and approach her, closing the distance as fast as I can. Sharon grunts and glares at me. Ah, the growl. I missed it so much. Stop smiling doofus or you will mess this up. It is too late.
"Something funny Mr. Hayes." She punches me hard in my stomach.
"Ouch," she winces, rubbing her hand. The punch is hard for her but only causes a slight discomfort on my stomach. My smile upsets her more. Her leg slams against my knee and I fall. My hands grab her and we both land on the floor. Sharon on top of me.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"Remember Kung Fu?" She hisses as she gets up and pats her palms clean. I give her my hand to pull me up. She brushes it aside.
From the corner of my eye, I see the exchange of green bucks between my teammates. The jerks are placing bets. I don't care if the odds are in Sharon's favor. I am a winner today. My girl is back in my life.
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