Page 27 of Lessons in Lemonade

The captains meet for the coin toss then the game is underway before we know it. Just four quarters and sixty minutes to determine the once-in-a-lifetime outcome of this game.

First down. Second down. Third down. Punt. Repeat.

Both teams move the ball back and forth down the field but never enough to get into field goal range, and although neither team has come close to scoring, you wouldn’t know that by the way the fans are cheering.

“What hotel are y’all staying at?” Camille asks a little over halfway through the first quarter.

“Funny you should ask that,” Lexi responds, grimacing just a little and wiping her hands down the legs of her jeans.

“What do you mean?” Camille now looks at both of us, and I just shrug my shoulders.

“This was really last minute, and I looked at hotels around the stadium while we were on the plane, but they were all booked,” Lexi tells her.

“Oh, well, Bryan and Jack are rooming together like they usually do, so I imagine y’all can crash with them,” she says cheerily, as if this solves the problem.

“We’ll see,” Lexi says, returning her attention back to the game. She is also here to support someone, only I’m not sure when they last talked. Bryan’s been busy in the postseason, and that’s affected them. Still, no matter what, this is one of those situations in life where you put all the drama aside and you show up. You show up for your person, because that’s the right thing to do.

“Or, you can fly home with us tonight. My dad brought the plane.” She smiles brightly, and I can’t help but smile with her.

“Your dad owns a plane?” I ask her.

“Yep. Rarely leaves home without it.”

“Huh,” I answer, not sure what to say. Just then, Bryan steps back five paces, shuffles his feet, and then moves up into the pocket, firing the ball thirty yards downfield toward Jack. Collectively, everyone in the box sucks in air and holds their breath to see if the pass completes, which it does just as two linebackers take him out. The crowd erupts with elation and then it instantly dies.

Lexi’s hand flies over and grabs my arm, hard, and the entire box falls dead silent as we stare down at Jack, who isn’t moving.

Oh my God.

On shaky legs, I move closer to the edge, brushing her off and clutching my chest. My heart has been cleaved in two, half nosediving into the lowest part of my stomach, the other climbing up into my throat. I feel like I’m about to choke.

“Come on, Jack, get up,” I whisper to myself. Only . . . he doesn’t.

The team’s medical staff rushes onto the field, Bryan runs to him and drops to his knees, and we all watch and wait. Slowly, he begins moving a little, but what he’s not moving is his left leg. The television behind us cuts to a commercial as they assess him on the field; meanwhile, on the jumbotron, they show the replay of the tackle in slow motion, and the entire stadium gasps and groans for the pain and devastation we all know has just befallen Jack. The angle at which his knee was hit, the direction the bottom of his leg bent—there is no coming back from this, at least not any time soon.

My eyes swell with tears.

More and more people rush onto the field. He’s on the Wolves sideline, which is far from us, and it’s hard to see what’s happening. The spidercam—the one that runs up, down, and horizontally over the field—has moved as close as it can to them, but still it’s not enough. A transport cart flies out of the closest tunnel, and the crowd is quiet as we all watch a worst fear for an athlete come true.

My athlete.

The tears break free as they begin to spill over. My heart is breaking for my friend.

Quickly they immobilize his knee, help him stand, and load him onto the cart. Being the standup player that he is, he waves to the fans to show he’s okay, and the stadium roars in support of him. He throws a towel over his head, hiding his face, and then he’s gone.

Panic settles into my muscles. I need to move. I need to help him. I need to do something. Frantically, I start looking around the box as the game below us continues, and I find Lexi and the other wives staring at me.

“I have to go.” I look at Lexi, and then at Camille and their friend Missy, waiting for one of them to help me. They have to help me.

“Goodness gracious, yes. Yes, you do,” Missy finally states, jumping into action, and that crashing panic begins to slightly recede. Missy heads straight for the stadium staff member who’s been assigned to our suite, and together they arrange for security to come get me and escort me down. I’m so fortunate we were in this box and these people know why I’m here; otherwise, this would never be happening.

The walk is long, much longer than I expected, even with the elevator ride down. There’s silence between the security guard and myself; really, what is there to say? I feel as if I’m marching to my death, the roaring of the crowd from just beyond the walls echoing down the concrete hallways. With each step closer to him, my heart pounds harder.

Part of me wonders if I should be going to him. Is there someone else here at the game that he invited? Does he even want someone by his side? Would he want me by his side? After all, who am I to him? Mostly, outside of Thanksgiving, we’re just internet friends.

“No,” I say to myself. I have to push all this aside. The worst that can happen is he says he doesn’t want me there, but if by some small miracle he does, the possible disappointment I might feel at the rejection pales in comparison to what he needs. I would want someone to come for me, and who knows if anyone else is.

Finally we reach the visiting team locker room. When the security guard steps out of the way and I see Jack sitting all alone on one of the training benches, my heart calls out to his. Sure there are people in the room moving around and two of the Tarpons medical staff are standing on the far side to give him space, but what I can’t tear my eyes off of is my fallen knight. Damp hair, minimal clothes, and the most distraught, devastated expression I have ever seen.