Taking A Risk by Karen Monroe
Will
Analise is not pregnant.
Thank you, Jesus!
We were on pins and needles for two weeks, waiting for her period to start. It was lucky she had one of those apps on her phone. She had an approximate date on when it should begin.
The pressure of waiting had gotten to both of us. We didn’t text as much anymore, and I stopped visiting the library as often. I guess we drifted apart because of the anxiety.
The entire episode made me crucially aware of how far things had gone. I was uncomfortable I had let things progress so far.
Once I found out the… good news, I deliberately turned my focus away from Analise. I didn’t go to the library, telling myself I needed to concentrate all my energy and effort on football. Analise was a distraction. Jax certainly thought so; and after what I had said to Griff, I wondered what I really wanted from her.
Did I want a relationship?
Maybe… possibly.
But relationships weren’t on the cards. Not to mention, it would be impossible to have a relationship without adding to my already heavy burdens. The circumstances of her life and mine were fraught with chaos.
So, I stopped calling, stopped visiting, but, most importantly, I stopped fucking her. I thought it was for the best. Maybe we could be friends.
Stupid!
Analise wants NOTHING to do with me now. She hasn’t returned a single call or text in weeks. I shouldn’t be disappointed. I should be relieved. This is what I wanted, but without her my life feels… colorless.
When you’re smart—because everyone tells you so—it’s easy to convince yourself you’re always right. The irony is when you’re wrong, you’ll be too fucking smart to see it.
Retrospect allowed me to realize I was the one who insisted on finagling her into some sort of pseudo-relationship. Analise had been adamant from the get-go, but my pride pushed until I had her where I wanted.
Griff was right. I am dense, but between the two of us my head is the hardest. I’m just lucky my downhill spiral hasn’t affected my game. The season is almost over and the media hype for the upcoming championship is in full gear.
We’re headed to Florida in a couple of days for the game against Alabama. The hype is unbelievable. Our teams have the same record, but recently there’d been another event that rocked the world of college sports.
Melissa Hannon, the junior trainer otherwise known as Mel the Trainer, tried to kill Griff’s girlfriend, Cassi. She’d broke into her apartment with a gun! I heard they fought over the weapon until Cassi overpowered her. It sounded like some hairy shit. I’d been standing beside Griff when Brad, the head trainer, walked up and whispered in his ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my roommate so pale. His normally tan skin had gone ghostly white.
No one could believe it. There was an ongoing investigation, and rumor had it Brad would be fired—since he was Melissa’s de facto boss. He was still on the staff, but he wouldn’t be accompanying us to the championship game. It was fucked up, but that’s the way the cookie crumbled.
Frustrated and bored, I lean back against the plush lining next to my locker, tuning out the ambient noise in the locker room. I had media for the last two hours, which basically meant I had to make myself available to sports reporters. It was now six o’clock, but I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. I didn’t even have anything to study. I stopped going to classes after we won our first playoff game. There’d been no point any longer. Thankfully, I’d already earned enough credits to graduate. Granny would be proud.
I glance at my cellphone. The urge to see Analise is strong, but I push it away. What I need is to stay focused. That’s what’s best.
* * *
Analise
On some days,I’m glad things ended like they did between William and me. There was no major blow up. No incident. It just ended like it began—suddenly and without warning. I should be happy, but on other days I want to scream with rage and anguish. Today is one of those days.
I notice Tildee eyeing me as she cuts up a large slab of flank steak. “I want you to come to the get together.”
“I told you already that I’m covering Crystal’s shift.” I don’t mention I volunteered because I expected Tildee to ask me to come to her party. “She and Hamid are going to the lake.”
“I get it. Anything to avoid seeing or talking about Will,” she says smugly.
I shrug in reply.
“Mmm… I guess that makes sense if that’s how you plan on handling it.”
She’d been trying to get me to talk to William, but I refused, so her latest tactic was to rile me up. I wouldn’t take the bait. Instead, I focused on prepping the vegetables for the massive cookout she had planned.
I concentrate on pulling the piths from the multi-colored peppers laid out in front of me. I’ve already sliced them in half.
“Don’t pull all the white stuff out.”
I nod, staying silent. My cellphone pings on the table and I glance quickly at the screen then shake my head.
“Answer it!” Tildee commands.
“No.”
“Answer it damn it!”
“No.”
Tildee sniffs, then reaches for my phone. “Fine. I’ll answer it.”
She’s too quick for me to stop, but I’m not worried. My cellphone is passcode protected. “You’ll be cleaning that and sanitizing it before you give it back.”
“Of course, but after I read this message from… Mr. Muscles.” Her greasy fingers dance across my screen. “How cute you even have the little muscle icon for his picture.”
“Give me back my phone, Tildee. It’s locked so you can’t read the message.”
“Jokes on you, kid. Shelby already hacked your code.”
Shock makes my body stiffen, and I drop the pepper in my hand. “She can’t do that.” At least… I don’t think she can. When had my little sister turned into a cybercriminal?
“Shelby hacked my code?”
Tildee laughs. “Get over it. She figured it out on like the second try. She tried your dad’s birthday first, then Carol’s. You really should pick something new.”
My mom created my passcode when she gave me my first cellphone with the clear admonition to never change it. After she died, I hadn’t even thought about it, but knowing my mom, she probably told all her kids that. Cracking it had probably been child’s play for Shelby.
“Give it back, please.”
“No, not until I read the message.” Tildee fingers move rapidly, then she smiles. “It says, Analise, I hope you are well. Thinking of you.” She frowns as she looks at the screen. “That’s all it says.”
Tildee looks perplexed, but I’m not surprised. This message was a variation of others I received over the past few weeks. “Now will you give it back.”
“I-I don’t understand. I… thought you guys had a good thing.”
The truth was. William and I had a good thing, but it would never be enough. “Just let it go. Okay?”
“But…”
I feel bad. She looks despondent, which is how I feel. The difference is I’m trying not to show it. “I told you. This isn’t a Hallmark movie. There’s no happily ever after.”
Tildee sucks her teeth before grabbing a Clorox wet wipe from the kitchen counter. She wipes my phone with a sad expression before setting it back on the table.
When she sits down, I notice the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just… I thought—”
“I know. It doesn’t matter. I’m okay with it. I promise.”
Tildee’s voice is muffled, like she has a cold. “I really wanted you to come out on top, Lise. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
Strange way of putting it, but I chalk it to her high emotions. It’s funny, though; my heart is broken but I’m the one comforting Tildee. “It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into. I’m okay. Promise.”
“If you’re okay, then come to the party. DeMarco will be there. I want you to meet him.”
DeMarco was Tildee’s new Tinder flavor. They’d already been on a few dates. Shaking my head, I open my mouth, but Tildee rushes ahead. “I spoke with Jorge. He has enough people for the shift. And you don’t have to watch the game if you don’t want to. I’ll even sneak you a couple shots of vodka to help you get through it.”
Apparently, she’s ready to pull out all the stops. “Fine. I’ll go.”
* * *
Will
All weekmy coaches have been saying, “It’s just another game.” But they’re lying through their teeth. This isn’t another game. It’s the fucking championship! Whoever wins this is going home with a big ass trophy. The loser gets nothing but a pat on the back. It’s also my last college game. The last time I’ll be playing with these guys. I’ll never see most of them again.
All this is going through my head as I line up for the snap late in the third quarter. Raymond James stadium is especially loud. The noise makes it hard to get my bearings as I take my three-point stance. I can’t hear the audible. I’m trying to concentrate on the ball, but it feels like I’m playing inside a tunnel. My senses are frayed from the heat and humidity.
Our QB, Mackenzie, led us back from a two-touchdown deficit, but we’re still down by three points and the Crimson Tide and their fans are raging.
Sweat drips in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink rapidly and breathe slowly to calm my racing heart. The linebackers and safeties behind me are yelling and chirping at the offense. Too many people are talking for me to hear any of Julio’s adjustments. Seconds feel like hours, but I stay focused on my breathing and try to keep my eyes focused on the ball. There’s motion from the running back, but he’s fleet footed and runs out of my vision quickly. There’s another offensive adjustment, then in the next second the ball is snapped.
I was facing one guard before the snap, but now I’m swarmed by two hefty linemen who resemble the Great Wall of China. I’m struggling just to stay on my feet.
There’s nothing I can do when the tight end runs by me through the open slot. Strangely, I can hear the swoosh from the ball as it spirals past my helmet. One of the dickheads in front of me punches me in the stomach. It’s an illegal move, but I doubt the refs are paying attention. Like everyone else, their attention is focused down field. Our defense was duped by a classic textbook screen, and the consequence of this is six points.
I feel like shit as I huff and puff, but I need to leave the field for the extra point. It’s a given with their kicker. He hasn’t missed all season.
I’m exhausted and grab a Gatorade bottle as soon as I reach the sidelines, then I sit down on the cooling Dragon seats. Most of the D-line follows to sit beside me as I splash water on my face and neck. It’s like a balm to my overheated skin. I’ve already used up the entire bottle and motion to a trainer for another one. I’m surprised Coach Gary isn’t in my face, but he called the play. If it didn’t work, that’s on him.
Lowering my head, I don’t even bother to watch the offense take the field after the kick. We’re down ten points. It’s on Griff now. We need a touchdown to stay in the game. A field goal won’t do it.
The third quarter ends, but the offense has only progressed to about midfield. The break allows Griff a chance to confer with Coach Raymond, one of the offensive coordinators. He’s listening intently to whatever is being said and looks calm, considering we’re down by ten points. When he takes the field again, I stand up to get a better view.
The last quarter in any football game is a testament to strength and conditioning, both mental and physical. This fourth quarter will decide who wins the championship. Everything my team has worked for comes down to the last 15 minutes of the game.
It’s 3rd and 4th. The offense only needs four yards for the first down. Griff runs a neat shovel pass to Williams, the running back, who easily picks up the yardage. I notice a lot of the Tide’s defense standing around with their hands on the hips as Griff huddles the offense for the next play. It’s a sure sign they’re as tired as we are.
A tired defense is a quarterback’s dream and knowing my roommate like I do. Griff will make them pay for it. He’s calling a long audible and the safeties and linebackers are shuffling trying to adjust as the wide receivers shift into their slots. A second later the ball is hiked into Griff’s waiting hands. The offensive line does its job long enough for him to complete a corner slant route to Jax, who catches the ball in bounds. The nearest defender misses his tackle and in the next second Jax is off to the races.
Touchdown!
Several of my defensive teammates are jubilant, jumping up and down and high-fiving each other.
I glare at them. “Calm the fuck down! The game ain’t over yet.”
“That’s right. The fat bitch hasn’t sung. Keep your head in the game,” Julio echoes beside me.
The extra point is good, narrowing our deficit to three points. The punt and return put the Tide’s offense at their own 24-yard line. Our offense has done their job. Now it’s time for the defense to do ours. As I take my stance, I focus on the guard in front of me. He’s talking shit, but I’m too burned to respond. I’ve been doubled and tripled teamed for nearly the entire game. I got to pull everything out of the tank to keep going. Shit talking can take a back seat.
Unsurprisingly, the first three plays are run plays. Their running back has been pounding our line all day, and they easily pick up the first down. If they keep this up, we won’t be able to stop them.
Time is ticking as the offense slowly makes its way downfield, but I can tell the O-line is tiring fast. Many of them are bowed over in the huddle, their chest moving rapidly as they suck up as much oxygen as they can during the break. When they line up for the snap, I smile at the poor sod in front of me. He’s too winded to keep talking shit.
Good!I still got juice in my tank.
As soon as the ball moves from the center’s hands, I fly into action, dodging and sidestepping around the prick in front of me. I’m in the backfield just as the running back comes flying toward me. He doesn’t have time to react before I square my shoulders and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s strong and fast, but I’m stronger and bigger. There’s no contest. He goes down with a muffled grunt. I land on top of him and wait for the whistle to blow before I move. Several of my teammates are congratulating me, but my attention is focused on the downed runner. He’s gritting his teeth in an expression of pain. He hasn’t risen from the field.
The refs arrive moments later and wave to the sidelines for the trainers and medical staff. I’m shooed away, though. I only want to know if the guy’s okay. My emotions are torn, though. Injuries are a part of life in football, but my tackle caused a loss of four yards, too.
After the injury timeout, the Tide will have to go for 4th and 11 or punt the ball with 5:05 left on the clock. I’m elated and saddened at the same time.
Thankfully, the running back is okay. He’s able to exit the field on his own power and waves to the crowd to let them know he’s okay. That makes me feel better and I finally accept the muted congratulations from my teammates. I don’t want to be that guy on TV crowing for joy while someone else is injured.
With the ball back in the offense’s hands, I stand on the sidelines with the other guys cheering them on. There’s less than five minutes to go. If we score during this series, we’ll finally take the lead after four straight quarters of being behind.
Griff looks like the epitome of the cool and collected quarterback as he breaks the huddle. He doesn’t even appear to be sweating as he surveys the field. Chris Klint, the team’s starting center, who is back from injury, calls out the reads to identify the linebackers who need extra coverage. Griff’s been picking apart the defensive backs and has yet to throw an interception. I figure the first play will be a pass to either Jax or Carter, our two best wide outs. The offense has had a lot of success with the slant route.
The snap happens in an instant. The defense is surprised. They’re unprepared for the long bomb that falls into Kelly Carter’s hands.
Touchdown!
For the first time in the game, our team is ahead, and our fans cheer with delight. All the defense needs to do now is keep the four-point lead.
Coach Gary appears and huddles every member of the D-line, including the backups.
“This is it! Right here! Right now! This is it! This is the game you’ll be talking about when you’re old. This is the game you’ll tell your grandchildren about. Decide right now if you want to tell that story as the loser… or the fucking winner! Now get out there and crack some skulls!”
I know Coach Gary didn’t mean that literally, but the defense is still hyped when we take the field. It also helps that the Tide’s biggest offensive weapon has been benched while he undergoes the concussion protocol.
After their first play, I know the end is nigh. Without their powerhouse running back the offense is on fumes. They’re forced to rely on the subpar play of a middling quarterback who’s 10 for 30 in pass completions with two interceptions. Our defense just needs to hold’em, and the game is ours!