Page 31 of Calm Before the Score

The first few nights here, she went through her rituals. She checked to make sure she unplugged her hair straightener five times and the position of the door lock. After a few times in and out of bed, I grabbed her tight and wrapped my arms around her in silence. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, and her head nuzzled into my neck. I created a barrier around her to make her feel safe. I whispered calm words into her ear until she was too exhausted to stay awake anymore. That has become our norm. If I can be that person for her every single night, I want to be. I’m out of my depth with this one, and I don’t know the right things to do or say, but I’m willing to learn.

I shut the old creaky door, head down the dark hall, and into the kitchen. I haven't heard from Mom yet, so I have a few minutes to make my coffee and watch some ESPN highlights before checking on her. I allow my thoughts to wander to the past week. It’s been a dream come true.

Jolting me out of my thoughts, a loud buzzing noise fills up the quiet ambiance of the house. I check the pocket of my gray sweatpants to see who’s calling, but the sound isn’t coming from there. I scan the room to make sure I’m not hearing things and spot my mom’s phone on the kitchen table. She must have left it there overnight. I pick it up to make sure it isn’t an important call. That’s when I see a voicemail from the physical therapist’s office. I opened her phone to see five more unanswered voicemails from the same number. My stomach drops, and my body tells me that this isn’t a good sign. I unlock her phone and listen to each one over and over.

“Ms. Shane, we are reaching out to make sure you received the letter in the mail about our pricing increase. We haven’theard from you since, and you have missed your last month of appointments. Please call us back so we can get you back on the schedule. Thanks again.”Beep.

The next four are identical messages with the number of appointments my mom has missed increasing with each voicemail.How many messages has she already listened to like this?

A ringing sound fills my ears, and tunnel vision clouds my sight. I stare at her phone and try to keep my composure and concern under control. I want to launch the phone across the room and break it, hopefully leaving a hole in the old wall.

She hasn’t been going to physical therapy.

That is the only thing that keeps her muscles at the strength they are at now.Price increase? Why wouldn’t she tell me?My breathing intensifies, my palms sweat, and my heart might as well beat straight through my chest. Without thinking about my next move, I barge into her room, holding her phone in my shaky hands. Luckily, she’s awake.

“What is this about?” I’m standing at the foot of her metal bed frame, waving her phone back and forth.

“What iswhatabout, hon?” she asks so calmly that it makes me want to scream. She’s casually lying in bed with a home and garden magazine sprawled across her lap. She’s wearing her readers and looks completely at ease.That makes one of us.

“You have been missing your PT appointments formonthsand haven’t told me. I don’t care about the money, mom. I’ll figure it out. You need this therapy.” My voice cracks with pathetic desperation.

“Ryan, baby. We need to talk.” She pats the spot next to her, making anoofsound with her thick comforter. I fall into the spot like I did so many times as a kid and troubled teen. Our talks always grounded me and helped me see things through a clear lens. I’m not so sure today’s conversation will go the same way.

“The price increase, it isn’t just a few hundred dollars. It’s a lot, and I think it’s unreasonable. I tried to sign up for insurance, but I got denied because ALS is a pre-existing condition. You know my muscles won’t ever get better. I can’t see paying for this or putting more pressure on you to find the money when I’ll only deteriorate in the end. I even…” I can feel her gently pat my back, but I can’t let her finish this sentence.

“Stop,” I cut her off.

“Ryan, this isn’t going to…”

“I said,stop. You’re going to PT. I’m calling them today to get the updated invoice. It’s not a choice for you. This is the only thing we can do, and I will die before I let you quit trying to get better. I’ve been saving up some money giving one-on-one football lessons. It should be enough to cover the difference.”

Lies. I’m lying straight through my teeth.I don’t have the money, but I know how to get it. I need to make a few calls to people I never thought I would speak to again, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what I need to do to get it. It’ll get paid.

“Ryan, I don’t want to rely on you for this. You have your own life with a future. Please don’t make your life harder for mine,” she pleads with me, but I have no wiggle room on this decision.

“It’s as good as done,” I say with finality. I’ve always had a fierce instinct to protect and care for her.How could she be so nonchalant with her health?

I storm out of her room, still furious that she kept this from me. Sitting at the kitchen table, I run through ideas of how I can get money quickly. With football, school, and lessons, I’m slammed. It would take forever to save up the amount of money she’ll most likely need for one week's worth of visits. I could reach out to the team. We’ve done fundraisers in the past for people in need around the area, but then I'll get the looks of pity that I hate, like some charity case that needs saving. I do have a way to get a huge chunk of change in a matter of days. I’ll haveto revert back to my old ways of lying, cheating, and stealing, but this time, I know how to fly under the radar.

This is theexactreason I never let anyone into my life. I have to make tough decisions like this without a solid plan. I don’t get the happy ending. The life I built, or thought I was building, may come crashing down right in front of me, but I’ll try my best to save it. I may have to break her trust to convince her everything is okay because I know if I lay it all out on the table for her, she’ll do anything to help. The problem is, I can’t be saved. I won’t drag her into the dark abyss of my old life. I need to do this on my own.

Violet

Turning over in Ryan’s warm bed, I reach out to grab my muscular pillow, but my hand hits an empty spot. I lean over for the nightstand to check the time on my phone, 9 a.m. Dang. I woke up later than usual this morning, but I’m surprised Ryan’s warmth leaving the bed didn’t wake me up. Rolling out of bed, I head to the bathroom and take a look at myself in the mirror. My face looks refreshed. There are no hints of dark circles under my eyes, and I owe my good night's sleep to Ryan’s patience and understanding. He’s been great with accepting my rituals and compulsions, better than I could have ever imagined. What I thought would drive him away has brought us closer together.

Having someone to turn to that isn’t Hartley feels really good. I love Hartley, but my love for Ryan is on a different level. Hartley and I have lived in survival mode for so long that it feels nice to allow myself the comfort of letting Ryan take care of things for me.

I finish my morning prep by brushing my teeth, running a brush through my hair, and seeing what they are up to in the living room. When I walk out of Ryan’s bedroom, I see every muscle in his bag rippling taught. His hand grips an ink pen as he's scribbling something down on an old receipt. His shouldersare set high, and he tosses the pen on the table before covering his forehead with his hands. I walk up to him slowly and rest my hand on his back. He jumps a little from his chair and turns around.

“Oh hey babe, what are you doing up this early?” he asks nervously.

“It’s already nine. I’m surprised I stayed in bed this late. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just lost track of time. We should start packing up our stuff to head out tomorrow. I want to leave pretty early in the morning.” His eyes don’t quite meet mine. His jaw is set tight, and the grinding of his teeth doesn’t stop.

“Ok, I’ll start packing right after I change. Is your mom ok? You seem on edge.”

Before I can dig into his mood even more, he snaps back at me and says, “She’s fine, Violet. Could you stop with the twenty questions, please? I’m heading out for a while. I have some things I need to get done.”

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