Page 188 of Tell Me I'm Enough

When the paramedics and firefighters finally get him out, they strap him onto the stretcher, load him into the ambulance, and quickly take off.

I feel hollowed out, completely numb everywhere. I don’t remember sitting on the curb. I don’t remember my head hurting this bad until I have to clutch it to ease the pain.

A paramedic kneels down in front of me, placing her hand gently on my arm to lower it. “Hey, we need to get you checked out, okay?”

I just nod and let her lead me over to the ambulance.

I watch as they close the back doors, and just stare at my car—what’s left of it. All I can do is pray and beg God to let Tank make it. I swear to him that I’ll get my shit together; I’ll doanything if he’s just out there, listening, and answers this one time.

My head is pounding, and every bump sends pain radiating through my skull. My wrist aches badly, stinging when I try to move it, and my shoulder is on fire.

I just stare up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, and try not to throw up.

* * *

“You’ve got a concussion,” the doctor tells me. “And a grade II AC joint sprain alongside some cuts and bruises. We’ve stitched up the bad ones, and they look good to go.”

I nod, not even looking at him. I feel so numb right now that I couldn’t care less about my own injuries.

“When would I be back on the field?”

I don’t know why I even ask. I don’t care about football or anything else right now. But I know that’ll be the first question my father asks, so I’d rather have the answer ready for him.

“Concussion alone would have had you back in about a week or two, but with the shoulder sprain, best-case scenario, you’re looking at three to four weeks before full-contact football. Worst-case, closer to six weeks or more. And that’s assuming you follow instructions.”

I drop my head on the bed behind me and close my eyes, already knowing how that one’s gonna go over.

I look back at the doctor, silently pleading with him again. “Do you have an update on my friend?”

He gives me a sympathetic look, and he places his hand on my non-hurt shoulder. “As soon as we know anything, we’ll get that information to his family. We’ll let them know you’reasking, so if they want to share that information with you, they can. I know you’re worried, but he’s in the best hands here.”

The door clicks shut behind the doctor, and the room goes quiet. The thoughts in my head won’t shut up, playing on a loop, scared to death that my mistake could have cost a life. The thought scares me so badly that I physically recoil and shiver. I hate not knowing how he is.

All I can see is Tank’s face when he couldn’t breathe. The way his hand desperately braced at his side. The sound he made when they cut his shirt off and covered his wound.

My phone starts vibrating against the mattress beside me, pulling me from my thoughts.

It’s my dad—of course.

I let it keep going off longer than I should, just staring at his name, wanting to pretend I don’t even see it. It doesn’t stop, though. It just keeps buzzing.

He’s not gonna stop. If he got word of all of this—which I figured he would—he’s gonna keep blowing me up until I give in and answer anyway. Might as well rip off the band-aid now.

I reluctantly hit answer. It’s silent at first, and I just sit there waiting.I’mnot gonna be the first one to say anything. I don’t even want to be a part of this call.

“Mason? Are you there?”

I swallow. “Yep.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”he snaps. “Do you have any idea the kind of situation you just dropped in my lap?”

No, are you okay, son? No, how are you feeling? Nothing. I close my eyes, my head throbbing instantly from this conversation.

“Hey to you too.”

“Don’t get smart,”he fires back. “I just got off the phone with people who never should’ve had to call me in the first place. Do you know what an accident could do to football, to school? Youcan’t afford to be doing something as reckless as running a stop sign!”

“Well, good thing I’m alive, right? Wouldn’t wanna be more of a disappointment to you bydying.”