Page 20 of Coping Skills

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Megan turned her head and gave Elena a confused look. “Do what?”

Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Megan shifted, turning around in her chair to face Elena. “No. Say it. You don’t know how I do what exactly?”

Gesturing at the screen, Elena tried to find the words. “Watch him, out there. Knowing he could get injured, bad, at any given time. He could get his knee blown out or his shoulder torn up. Or …” She bit her lip, unsure if she could go there. “Or his head hit so hard that he’s not the same afterward.”

She made the mistake of meeting Hannah’s eyes and seeing the pitying look there. Megan just continued to stare at her without saying a word. Elena didn’t know how much anyone knew about her summer other than Hannah. She assumed Matt had some clue, since Hannah probably filled him in on some of the details. She didn’t begrudge him that knowledge. He deserved to know why his third-wheel roommate was a head case who spent all her time at home in the kitchen baking pies or hiding out in her room.

But she hated the pity she got when people found out about her summer, about her dad, about how fucked up everything had become. That was the worst. She didn’t want pity. She wanted things to be normal again. But that was impossible.

Elena could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she looked down at the carpet in front of her crossed legs. Matt cleared his throat in the tense silence that had descended on the room. “Well, that doesn’t happen that often. I mean, yeah, sometimes guys get hurt, and sometimes they end up needing surgery or something, but I’ve never known of a guy to get hit so hard in the head that they’re not the same after. And I’ve played for a long time.”

“But it happens.”

“What do you mean?” Matt’s voice was still soft and curious, not harsh and angry like she might’ve expected. And that encouraged her to give an answer.

She looked up, meeting his eye, keeping her focus on him and ignoring the others. “Since my dad’s accident, I’ve been reading a lot about traumatic brain injuries. Something like ninety percent of football players have been found to have brain disease. And it’s not just NFL players, either, but guys who never went past high school or college football.”

Matt chuckled, but it came out forced. No one else said anything. “So, you’re saying Lance and I have some kind of brain disease?”

She shrugged, looking away for a second. “You might. I don’t know. Did you get a lot of concussions?”

Matt and Lance exchanged a look. “A couple. Pretty much everyone does. You’d have a hard time finding a football player who hadn’t by the time they got to college. We were all defense—like Chris—so we did the tackling. It’s usually the ball handlers who get tackled, like the quarterbacks and receivers. They get more concussions because of that.”

Elena nodded. “I’m just saying. I’d have a hard time watching this,” she waved her hand toward the screen again, “knowing what I know. That’s all. I didn’t mean to bring everyone down. Sorry. Ignore me.”

Before anyone could say anything else, she got up and escaped to the kitchen, needing a minute to compose herself.Mierda. Why did she have to open her big mouth?

She grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water, gulping it down. When she lowered it, Hannah had come in, and she stood with her arms crossed and her hip propped against the counter.

Elena eyed her, but then deflated. “What? Should I leave? Hide in my room until everyone goes? Sorry. I really didn’t mean to make things awkward. It popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.”

Hannah shook her head. “I came to see if you were okay.”

Blinking, Elena glanced at her hands gripping the counter. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You know, that would be more convincing if you looked me in the eye. And said it without your voice cracking like you might cry.”

Elena scrubbed at her face with her hands, not caring that she was probably smearing her eye makeup. She’d go fix it in the bathroom before rejoining the football-watching party. If she could even bring herself to do that. “I’m not going to cry.” She dropped her hands and pasted on a smile before looking at Hannah. “See? I’m smiling. I’m fine.”

Hannah stood silent, looking her up and down before shaking her head slowly. “No, you’re not. You haven’t been fine in months. But I get it.”

Elena didn’t have a response to that. It was true, she wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been since June. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit it out loud. She could barely admit it to herself. If she kept saying she was fine, she hoped it would become true. So far it hadn’t worked, but she didn’t have any other strategies right now.

Tilting her head toward the living room, Hannah went on. “So that in there, about not being able to watch. How does that affect things with you and Daniel?”

“What do you mean?”

Hannah smirked. “Please. We’ve already talked about this. You guys are dating.”

“No. No, we’re not.” She shook her head, waving her hands in front of her, palms out. “No. We’re just friends.”

Laughing, Hannah shook her head. “Uh-huh. Like Matt and I are friends? Sure. Okay. We’ll call it friends.”

“No, it’s nothing like you and Matt. We’re not—we just—it’s not like that. We hang out. I like spending time with him. He’s a fun distraction. But that’s all.”

---