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The trio exchanges glances, and Watson speaks first. “I think about it from time to time. Thought about it a lot after your accident.”
Anthony nods. “I think we all did. Your career ended in the blink of an eye, and it could happen to any one of us. Shit is scary as fuck to think about, so I try not to.”
“What would you do if you couldn’t play football?” I push back on the wicker rocking chair. “Where do you see yourself?”
It’s quiet while they consider it.
“I’d want to coach,” Watson says.
“Commentator,” comes from Anthony.
Bentley smiles, and tips his wide-brimmed hat. “I’d have a farm, and a smokin’ hot wife with at least five kids.”
Watson laughs. “That doesn’t count. You can have that now.”
Bentley shakes his head. “Not with this lifestyle. Sure, I could get married and have kids. But I’d be gone all the time. My life wouldn’t be devoted to my family. Football always comes first.”
“What’s with the questions, B?” Anthony lifts his legs onto the ottoman. “Are you still having a hard time because you can’t play?”
I watch as the wind rustles the leaves on the nearby tree. “I think I’m finally realizing that there’s more to life than football. Walking away from it was devastating, and I didn’t know who I was without it. Feels like I’ve been wasting a lot of time focusing on what I’ve lost, and not enough time looking ahead.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I can’t imagine not being able to play.” Watson gestures to my cane. “Using that thing just to get around.”
“That thing is what enables me to get around.”
“I just mean, of course you’ve been having a hard time with it. It’s natural to miss the person you used to be before you got injured.”
The person I used to be? “I’m still the same person, Wats.”
“But your body isn’t the same. You used to have a normal life, and now—”
“And now what?” My temper flares, but I try to shove it back down. “Now my life is shit because I need a cane to help me walk?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been depressed about all these years?” Anthony asks. “That you got hurt, and can’t move the way you used to?”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I’ve been upset because I can’t play football. And yes, that is due to my injury, and it sucks. My decision to get involved in a stupid bar fight is what ended my career. I did this to myself, and I’ve been coping with that. But I’m not upset because I have to rely on my cane to walk. I’m thankful to have it.”
Their eyes drop to the floor.
“You think I should be ashamed of using this?” I hold up the cane in front of them, forcing their eyes on it. “Life’s goal isn’t to be the prototypical able-bodied person with two legs, two arms, ten fingers, and ten toes. The goal is to live a full life, and that looks different for everyone. Someone who was born with spina bifida is no less of a human than an Olympic athlete. Someone who lost his leg in the war can feel as happy as someone with two legs. Our joy doesn’t have to depend on our level of mobility. Disabled people don’t need pity from people because we can’t move like them. We don’t need to be made to feel ashamed of our limitations. I am still whole with a cane. I was whole when I was in a wheelchair.” My breath catches in my throat. “And I’m whole without football. I’m realizing this a little late.”
Bentley pulls off his hat, and scratches the top of his head. “He’s right, you know. We’ve seen the toll this game takes on our bodies. Players get injured all the time. There’s no guarantee we’ll have careers like Peyton Manning. What happened to Bryce can happen to any one of us, on or off the field.”
Watson pushes to his feet. “I’m sorry for insinuating your life is inadequate because of your disability.” He sticks out his hand. “Thank you for opening up, and finally talking to us.”
I clasp his hand, and give it a firm shake. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”
“We’ve got your back, B.” Bentley leans forward and clamps his hand around ours. “Always have. We just didn’t know how to be there for you.”
Anthony joins us. “The fearsome foursome, remember?”
I grin. “Always.”
Charly
June 28th
Dear Mom,
