Page 74 of Everything In Between
The stadium has fallen into hushed silence as their quarterback lays motionless on the field. The sun shines down on the turf from the open-air stadium, but as the game comes to a halt, the day seems to dim.
The athletic trainers trot out to him, huddling around his body and blocking my view of him. From my position in the box, I stand up on my tiptoes as if that will give me a better view of what’s happening down below.
Concern fills me as I wait for him to do something, anything, and I twist my fingers together into a tight knot.
Come on, Hayes, get up.
I step closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and hugging her close. As much as Hayes means to me, that’s hersondown there.
“He’ll be okay.” I try to reassure her, though my voice breaks at the end of the word. “He’s gotta be.”
Hayes’s mom and I stand there holding each other, waiting for any type of signal that he will be okay. Hayes’s father squints down at the field with a grim expression, waiting for Hayes to pop back up to his feet, like he always does.
My throat goes dry when an emergency medical cart drives out onto the field. The people attending to Hayes quickly jump into action to get him onto the stretcher and into the vehicle to wheel him off field.
I cover my mouth with my hands with a gasp. “Oh god.”
“Come on, Jersey.” His mother grabs my hand and drags me out of the VIP box. My heart is pounding in my ears the whole way. I can’t seem to stop the incessant anxiety-ridden thoughts from ricocheting through my mind.
He didn’t get up. Was he moving? Was he breathing?
Why didn’t he get up?
Is he going to be okay? He’s gotta be okay.
She leads the way down to the team quarters of the stadium. It’s a wonder I walked at all the way my ankles are wobbling in my boots. Time seems to disappear until Hayes’s mother stops one of the trainers walking toward the diagnostic room.
“I’m Hayes Vogt’s mother,” she explains and points to her husband and then to me. “This is his father and Hayes’s girlfriend.”
The trainer’s eyes flash between the three of us, but then she nods. “Hayes is getting his preliminary check right now. He took a hard hit to the knee.” I blink rapidly, willing the burning behind my eyes to disappear. Hayes’s parents are both cool, calm, and collected, listening intently and nodding as if this is not their first rodeo. It likely isn’t with a quarterback for a son. “We’re still trying to determine what the next course of action will be. We’re discussing transporting him to the hospital so hecan get an MRI. That way we’ll have a good sense of what we’re dealing with, but he’s done with this game.”
The trainer gives us a grim look before heading back into the diagnostic room, leaving me standing with his parents in the hallway, watching as the doors to the medical room swing shut. Wrapping my hands around my torso, I try not to shiver, but it’s no use. It’s just as warm down here as it was in the VIP suite, but full body shakes take over.
Hayes’s mom wraps her arms around me and leads us to a place where we can sit and wait. A cell phone ringing cuts through the heavy silence and Hayes’s dad pulls his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. He locks eyes with his wife and tilts his head toward his phone. “It’s Riley.”
“We’re fine here,” his mother says and gives her husband the go-ahead. He walks away, putting his phone to his ear.
“Hey, kiddo... Yeah, we’re waiting to hear what the diagnosis is,” he says gently to his daughter.
My chest feels tight, and I try to take a deep breath, counting down from fifty as I lean against Hayes’s mom. “What happens to a quarterback if he busts his knee?” I ask her quietly.
She smooths her hand over my hair and rocks us back and forth. “It depends on what he injured. He may need surgery or he may be able to get by with physical therapy. His doctors will have more answers for us.”
“Will he be able to play again?” My voice is shaky as I voice my fear. I hate that I’m feeling so vulnerable, but my worry for her son seems to overshadow anything else right now.
“I hope so, sweetheart,” she whispers, holding me close in a way only a mother knows how.
When I finally pull away from his mom a few minutes later, I wipe my face and force out a humorless laugh. “Sorry.”
She gives me a kind smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s nothing to apologize for.” I wipe my nose, embarrassed by theway it’s dripping down my face from my tears. His mother politely doesn’t comment on that fact. “Would you like to stay here and wait for him? Or go back home?”
Home.
It’s not home without him, though.
My throat feels tight. “I’ll wait for him.”
We sit together for a few more minutes, long enough for Hayes’s dad to return from his phone call with Riley. I regain control of my breathing but continue to count down from fifty, starting over each time I make it to zero. Inside, I’m telling myself that Hayes is okay, he’s not seriously injured. His trainers and medical team will take care of it.
