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My morning process before my injury went something like this:
1. Open eyes.
2. Feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
3. Roll out of bed and put feet on the floor.
4. Head out into my awesome life to do all kinds of awesome shit that probably included playing soccer, posing for pictures for some new endorsement deal, and being invited to rub shoulders with other pretty awesome people (which, honestly, wasn’t my favorite part, but it was still pretty…awesome.)
My morning process since the injury was more like this, and it was pretty solid:
1. Open eyes.
2. Feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
3. Roll out of bed and put feet on the floor.
4. Be nearly felled by crippling pain shooting up left leg and by the subsequent memory that everything I ever wanted in life had disappeared in the course of five minutes on the field.
5. Lay back down and curse the world.
6. Close eyes.
7. Plan to build in-bed bar so morning drinking was more feasible.
And when you had an established morning routine that was working so well for you, the weather could do little to alter it.
Only today, I actually needed to get up. The girls were coming over after school, and I needed to get a few things ready and clean up the house.
I repeated steps one through four of the usual routine, and forced myself to hobble to the bathroom instead of climbing back into bed a second time. I flipped on the hot water in the shower and leaned over the sink, resting a hand on either side and staring down into the bowl. I took a deep breath and pulled together the courage to look myself in the face.
There. There was the bastard who'd taken everything for granted and actually believed he'd deserved it. God it was hard to look at myself. I scoured my face in the mirror, letting my eyes linger on the dark circles that had developed beneath the sockets, the scruff covering my chin and neck, the slightly haunted look I couldn't seem to shake.
"Get it together, Whitewood," I muttered, and then stripped off my boxers and stepped into the blazing heat of the shower.
The ankle hurt worst in the mornings, and once I’d warmed up a little bit and moved around, it seemed to loosen. While the pain was always a dull throb, it became tolerable once I forced myself to move. The pain in my chest and head was harder to anticipate. I was actually feeling a little better there since the move, though there'd been a point early on, right after Becky had left, when I’d believed it might be worse than the ankle.
I knew now the pain had more to do with my love of the game than it did Becky. She had been a constant in my life over the past couple years, and I’d come to think of her as permanent—but once she'd left I almost felt relieved after the initial shock had worn off. Becky had been in it for the wrong reasons, and I realized now, so had I. Without her by my side pushing me to go to the next big event, to take the next high-profile sponsorship, I was able to think more clearly, not that events and sponsorships were exactly falling in my lap these days. With the distance, I realized Becky had been in it for what I could do for her,but not for me.
That had been clear enough when she'd left, telling me she did enough nursing in her day job.
Good riddance.
I shut off the water and cleaned up, shaving and actually combing my hair and putting a little bit of pomade in it to hopefully keep it all going the right direction. Not that the little girls would care, but I felt pressure to put myself together for them, to try to be whole. Or at least to appear that way.
I cleaned up the house, ignoring the pain as I managed to unpack the last few boxes and put together the playroom I’d set up since they'd last been over. It was a surprise for them, and I hoped they'd love it.
When the clock ticked near to three-thirty, I picked up my keys and wallet and ventured out to my car. I was actually going to leave the property for the first time. I’d installed a booster and a convertible car seat in the back of the car at Cormac’s request, and he had even come by to ensure they were installed properly. I was ready.
The school wasn't far from home, and I picked Taylor up with no problems, her enormous smile upon seeing me confirming that yes, this was a great idea. We went to Maddie's daycare next, and I earned another giant grin and a little-girl hug that pretty much validated all my reasons for forcing myself out of bed and into the shower this morning.
When they were both strapped in, I turned around and addressed them both. "I thought we might need to make a stop on the way home."
"Ice cream?" Taylor piped up hopefully.
"Ice cweam?" Maddie repeated her sister, her big eyes wide.
My heart might have melted a tiny bit at their hopeful faces.
