by HJ Bellus
“I love you, Ally.”
My phone goes off, forcing me to turn and walk away. I ignore the temptation to slam the door. I curb all the emotions and confusion inside. The hallways are a ghost town. Won’t be the same story in a few hours with game day in full force.
The same flier tacked to a cork board flutters in the breeze. I swear it does every time I pass by. It’s as if the fibers in the paper are screaming and calling out to me. In my gut, I know it’s the more I want. Need.
I stop this time and read the advertisement for United States Marine Corps.
“Interested, son?” Dad slaps a hand down on my shoulder.
I glance over at him, having no idea where he came from. I remain silent.
“You know it’s okay if you are. I’ll still love you if football isn’t cutting it for you.”
I drop my head. “How did you know?”
“Know you better than you know yourself, Max.”
“I feel so damn selfish. Do you know how many men my age would give everything up for what I have?”
“Yeah, I do. The day I was forced to give up football, I thought I lost everything.” Dad turns, ushering us out the front door. “My life was over or at least I thought it was. I was so damn wrong. The thing is, son, you never know.”
“Yeah. I just don’t know.” I kick a pebble on the sidewalk as Dad walks us over to my truck.
“You will. Listen to your gut.” He shoves off me. “Now, give your old man a ride to the stadium.”
“How in the hell did you even get here?” I finally snap out of my stupor.
“The kids were all out and your mom was taking advantage of the silence doing some writing, so I grabbed some coffee and walked over here.”
“Thanks, Dad.” We both climb into the truck.
I tell him everything on the ride over. Everything washes from me in a turbulent cascade of a waterfall from wanting more to Ally. This is long overdue. I should’ve known I could’ve come to Dad way before this. He doesn’t say a word or physically react. He listens with no judgment like he always has. He promised me a long time ago that he’d never leave my side, and the man has never once wavered on that promise. It was the day I became a man.
“Mom.” I toss my gym bag on the counter. “Got your favorite burgers for dinner.”
The stale scent of cigarette smoke hits me hard in the face. I’ve resorted to keeping my clothes outside in a shed so I don’t go to school smelling like an ashtray. I’m not worried about being beat much anymore. She’s grown ill from abusing her body, and it seems she’s made her rounds through all the men in town since none have been over in a month.
They were another story, loving to knock me around. Mom never did anything but sip from her vodka and puff on her cigarette. I’ve given up on saving her. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Any second now, she’ll growl back in her smoker’s voice. The throaty and gravelly deep sound always reminds me of home and where I come from.
“Mom,” I holler again. “Got your carton of cigarettes too.”
Yeah, I’m still grabbing brown paper bags for her at the gas station on the corner. I plate her burger and fries and make sure to give her three ranch dips to avoid a hostile fit from her. She must’ve dozed off. Another cigarette burn in the carpet will be the only result of her careless action.
I round into the living room from the kitchen with our food in my hands. I’ll go eat outside, unable to stomach the state of my mom and the smell of the house. The plates clatter to the ground when she comes into view.
“Mom,” I roar.
Her lit cigarette dangles between her fingers, dangerously low to the carpet. Her head is tilted to the side while the rest of her body is lax. It’s the coloring of her skin that sends me into a panic. I race over to her, my entire body trembling in fear.
“Momma.” I drop on my knees, grabbing the cigarette and putting it out in an old Vodka bottle. “Momma.”
I grab her. She’s cold. A dam bursts inside me. I don’t recognize the voice roaring around. It’s several minutes before I realize it’s me. The tender glass inside me shards and breaks into tiny pieces.
I see an empty pill bottle lying next to her. Then her body twitches against my chest. My mom’s cold body burns my skin. I grab my prepaid cellphone and dial 911, doing my best to explain everything through my frantic state. I know in my heart she’s gone. I rock her back and forth in my arms, kissing the top of her head, praying for her to take her next breath. Gag, cough, call me a name; I’d take anything right now.
I hate her, hate her and love her so damn much at the same time. The tug of war inside me causes my stomach to swirl on repeat. I keep it down. The piercing and scraping sound of the sirens near, and before I know it, my mother’s lifeless body is taken out of my arms. No warmth coats my body. No, her cold skin has seared mine with an icy feeling that will linger forever. I rub my chest over all the burn scars and don’t even feel a shred of pain.
I hop in the ambulance, staying away from the action as they rip Mom’s shirt off and do everything they can to get one single gasp to expel from her body. When I can’t handle watching anymore, I bury my face in my hands and pray like I never have before.
They rush her away once we are at the hospital. I lean back against a wall, dropping my head back on it and squeezing my eyes shut. I’ve never felt so alone before. Pretty damn ironic, considering I’ve been all by myself my entire life.
Without thinking, I reach in my pocket and dial the number to the one person who I know will always have my back.
“This is Coach.”
“Coach,” I stutter out.
“Max?”
“She…she killed herself. She’s gone.” Despair overwhelms me when I bang my forehead on the dingy wall.
“Where are you?” Jessie barks out, and once I tell him, he ends the call.
I’m left feeling empty once again. Not brave enough to study the action in the hospital. There’s a frantic tone surrounding me with all sorts of people racing around.
“Max?”
I bring my head down from staring at the ceiling and tuck my hands in my pocket to see Ally from school. We have a few classes together and have done one school project together.
“Are you okay?” She takes a step closer to me.
I can only shake my head then I feel the hot, wet tears flowing down my face.
“Oh, Max.” She closes the distance between us, wrapping her arms around my waist and placing her cheek on my chest.
I don’t move. I can’t. I’m unable to process a single thought besides the fact I’m a fifteen-year-old boy who is shortly going to become an orphan.
Ally squeezes me tighter to her and begins speaking in a hushed tone. “Father God, my heart is broken for Max. My spirit is crushed watching him live out his own pain. Your word is my hope. I pray that You put your hands on Max and guide him. Give him some peace in his life for he needs You right now. Rescue him from this dark cloud of despair. In the name of Jesus, Amen.”
I don’t have a chance to look down before I hear someone barking my name out. I jerk my head up to see Coach Jessie and Jules running through the doors. Ally steps to the side. I grab her hand, squeeze, and lean down to kiss the top of her head. I have no idea where that came from, but her simple gesture and kind words finally did the trick, warming me and giving me hope.
“Thank you, Ally.” I squeeze her hand again, staring down into her deep, whiskey-colored eyes.
She pats my chest. “I’m here for you, Max.”
“Ally, let’s go,” a stern voice floats down the hallway. Her mother and father stand a good ten feet away with an unpleasant look on their faces. It’s as if they both stepped in a big pile of dog shit. And there’s the reality slap I needed, because just for a moment I felt loved by Ally and could feel myself falling for her.
Jessie grabs me, wrapping me up in his arms. “I’ve got you, son.”
I shatter for the final time,
not one whole piece left inside of me. I sob into his shoulder. “She was so cold.”
He doesn’t say a word and never lets go. I have no idea how much time passes before Jules walks up to us. It’s written all over her face and cemented with the slight shake of her head.
My knees go out from under me. But I never fall. Jessie somehow manages to get me to a couch in the waiting room.
“Look at me.” He kneels before me. He waits until I do then grabs my face.
“I don’t have anything, not even a goddamn mother,” I grit out in anger.
“You’ve got me. You’re mine, Max.” He squeezes my face. “Do you hear me?”
I manage a nod.
“You’ll never be alone.”
I kill the engine in front of the stadium. Dad turns to me, gripping his empty coffee cup. “Max, I can’t tell you what to do or how it’s going to play out. If you want to join the Marines, then do it. If you want to quit football and just go to college, do it. If you want to come home to help with the farm, then do it. The one thing I do know is that Ally isn’t in a good space right now. She’s not the same girl you fell in love with. As much as I hate to say this right now, she’s toxic to you.”
“I love her,” I admit out loud without thinking.
“Then you need to help her.”
Chapter 3
The roar of the stadium as I lead my boys out onto the turf soothes my aching soul. I glance over to the sidelines to see my dad standing with his hands over his chest and a broad smile on his face. He does his best at my home games not to interfere too much. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t gotten in my face screaming a line of profanity, helping me get in my zone.
It’s not needed today. I have way too much frustration to get out. My line protects me all day as we work the ball down the field. One more touchdown and I know I’ll be pulled from the game. We are crushing the other team, and my coaches won’t want me to get hurt, especially when it’s not a conference game.
I call a different play in the huddle.
“Fuck yes.” Jameson bobs his head up and down.
“Line, you hold fucking tight. I’m about to sink this game.”
We all clap and head to our spots. I ignore the coach barking in my ear. No doubt there will be consequences for this, but I want to play the way I want. Once my men sprint into action, I see Jameson down the field, wide open. I crank back my arm and aim. Once the ball leaves my hand, I catch a glimpse of a defender flying towards me. I’m able to get rid of the ball before he hits me.
I have no idea if I hit Jameson between the numbers until the crowd erupts in cheers. Adam helps me to my feet, shaking his head.
“You’re a dead man.” He slaps my back.
“In more than one way,” I mumble.
Adam was right. Not only are my coaches pissed and sit me the rest of the game, but Dad glares hard at me. He’s not impressed, but I don’t miss the mischievous smirk that peeks from the corner of his lips.
The second-string quarterback doesn’t score in the last quarter. Our defense holds strong. I find myself glancing around the stadium, taking in everything about game day. It’s a source of adrenaline I’ll never be able to explain, and I will, for sure, miss it. I’ll get my job done here, but there’s more for me in the future.
After I get my ass chewed six ways to Sunday, I hit the shower and climb back into the damn monkey suit, preparing myself for the media circus that will surely be ready for me. They love calling me the Miracle Kid. My childhood story has been exposed to the nation. I never fought it, but that doesn’t mean I love hearing it every time I lead my team to a victory.
“Saw Ally last night.” Adam slaps my back as I finish lacing up my dress shoes.
“Yeah?” I stand up, jerking my duffle over my shoulder.
“She was with Cline, leaving the gym after dark. Didn’t look good, brother.” Adam relaxes back on the lockers.
“She works there. I’m sure the puke was working out.”
“Before a game day?” Adam raises an eyebrow. “That’s against team rules.”
“He’s a puke with no respect. Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Adam turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Cline came into Michigan gunning for my position. He was notched down by the coaching staff and put on the kicking team. It only made the chip on his shoulder bigger. I’ve tried to like him. I’ve chalked it up to one of those people I’ll have to try to respect from a distance. He breaks all the rules and parties like he’s a damn rock star when he’s not even close. Booze, drugs, and sex are his priorities.
I bite down on my bottom lip, centering myself for the camera crew. Walking out, I get a glimpse of my family standing behind them. It powers me through mundane questions I answer after every game. Once they get their fill, they disperse onto the coaches.
“Bubba!” Jack races up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. I bend down, peeling him off and hoisting him up to my chest.
Dad gives me a stern look then softens it with a smile. He nods and walks up to me, patting my shoulder. “You know your answer. Where your heart is. Chase your dreams, son.”
“Great game, Max.” Mom leans in for a kiss on the cheek.
Whit stays back, doing her best to be a pissed off pre-teen. That’s until I grab her and mess up her hair. She does her best to bat me away, but it’s useless.
“Hey.” We all glance up to see Ally jogging our way.
She looks like shit. If I hadn’t seen the drugs in her purse, my dumbass would’ve chalked it up to a lack of sleep. Adam’s words pierce my anger. I refuse to ruin a weekend with my family, so I tamp that shit down.
“Ally!” Whit squeals, racing over to her. Jack scrambles out of my arms. They love her. Thing is, they love the girl she used to be. Not this one standing in front of me that I no longer recognize.
Jack stumbles over his excitement until he gets his question out, patting her cheeks. “Where-where were you? You didn’t sit by us.”
Ally kisses his forehead. “I sat with some friends. I was a few rows behind you, squirt.”
Whit clutches Ally’s hand as the two drop into easy conversation. Mom hisses next to me.
“Bullshit. I was up and down those stairs a dozen times taking Jack to the bathroom. I’m not going to be able to handle this.”
“Don’t,” Dad warns. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the day before we fly home. This is Max’s story, not ours. He’ll handle it.”
And just like that, we all fall in unison, enjoying a day of greasy food, park time, and many laughs. I’m not shocked when Ally leaves early, claiming she has a shift at work.
“Another one?” I ask, grabbing her hand but keeping my distance.
“Yeah, but then I have three days off.” She reaches up on her tiptoes. I move so her lips land on my cheek. “What’s with you, Max?”
She jerks away her hand, and I step back. “Knocked over your purse this morning. Looks like another friend of yours has a drug problem, Ally. Oh, and Adam saw you and Cline together last night. You tell me what’s up, Ally.”
My words ring cold and calculated.
“You always believe your teammates over me,” she hisses back.
And like Ally has perfected, she turns to my family and says her goodbyes. The kids don’t pick up on the hostility underneath her shallow shell.
***
The night sky’s darkness matches my mood. With the family gone, I decide to drive by the gym. I’m not shocked when Ally’s car isn’t there. I notice it on the side street of her dorm. It’s parked in the shadow of the building, which I find odd. I kill my truck and walk a good block over to it.
Bass of a thumping song fills the air. The next thing I notice is the movement. I see red, not thinking any of my actions through. Before I know it, I’m ripping open the door to her car.
Neither Ally nor Cline notice me. He has her bent over, tugging her hair as he drives in and out
of her. Bile rises up the back of my throat. The memories of my friends and family warning me about this strike me hard and fast. I’m a goddamn fool.
I slam the door shut with all my force. The glass of the window shatters. Ally screams, and Cline whips his head my direction.
“Max!”
I shake my head and walk away.
“Max! Come back here please,” Ally pleads.
I never once look back and don’t regret it, even though I could drop to my knees in heartache, rage, and pain.
Decision made.
Chapter 4
“You have one minute, and if you’re not through this course, you’ll be running all night long. Do you hear me, Marines?”
I don’t glance up and focus on getting through the course, carrying well over one hundred pounds on my back. My knees threaten to give out while my back spasms in sheer pain. I focus on the end in sight, vowing to not let my body give up. It’s all mental. I’ve got this. Those are the words I repeat over and over in my head.
I’m well and alive, with my soul thriving with what it was always searching for. I’m serving a purpose surrounded by others who have my back. I’m a part of something big here.
Once our whole group is accounted for before the timer goes off, there’s a collective sigh of relief, and slaps on the back ensue.
“You looked like you were gonna piss your pants, James.” Smith slaps me on the back.
“Damn near did when I saw your ugly mug.” I split a wide grin, struggling to catch my breath, hunched over, sucking in oxygen in long deep pulls.
Boot camp is no damn joke.
Drumming my fingers on the keyboard of my Mac, I stare up at the framed picture on my wall of Smith and myself in our fatigues. He was a damn goofy bastard, and after serving nearly five years with him, he became my best friend.
The ringing of my phone pulls me from memory lane. I grab the cellphone and, not recognizing the number, I ignore it. These days I only answer four people. Mom, Dad, Whit, and little Jack are the only ones in my life, even though I live a good eight hours away from there and have never returned home. I never want to go back to the place, remembering the person I was and the way I was treated.