Page 37 of When We Were Young
But if Emily loved the game at first, she hated it a week later. She was watching Noah take the snap and raise the ball over his head like he was going to throw it. The whole stadium saw what Noah couldn’t see. The linebacker barreling toward him like a freight train. Emily could see the hit before it actually happened. But she couldn’t stop it and then... the violent blow was sickening. Helmet to helmet.
The horrific sound silenced the crowd into a collective gasp.
Noah crumpled to the ground and lay there, not moving. Emily had her hands over her mouth. Beside her, Clara kept shaking her head and muttering under her breath. “No... no... no.”
Emily couldn’t feel her heartbeat, couldn’t breathe. “Noah,” she whispered. “Wake up. Please, God, let him open his eyes.”
It took five minutes before he came to, before his fingers made even the slightest movement. Paramedics ran onto the field with a stretcher and ten minutes later Noah was whisked away in an ambulance. Emily didn’t know what to do. The second-string quarterback took Noah’s place and the game resumed, though the atmosphere was still and somber.
She couldn’t stay, couldn’t sit here with Clara wondering what had happened to Noah. Emily put her arm around her sister. “Let’s go to the hospital and check on Noah. How does that sound?”
By then Clara was crying, quiet tears streaming down her face. She didn’t answer, didn’t ask any questions. She just nodded and struggled to her feet.
At the hospital Emily and Clara identified themselves as Noah’s friends and they were told to stay in the waiting room with two team trainers and three assistant coaches. All of them waiting on word about Noah.
An hour later a doctor came to talk to them. He had gray hair and he looked gravely serious. He introduced himself as Dr. John Baxter. Kari Taylor’s father, Emily would learn later. Dr. Baxter was kind, but he spoke with an urgency. “I need to get hold of Noah’s parents. Do you know... are they still in London? That’s what his school file says.”
“Yes.” Emily was on her feet before any of the Hoosier personnel could say anything. Her knees shook. “They live near Noah’s brother and his wife and family.”
Dr. Baxter nodded. “I called the number the school had on file. No one answered.” He hesitated. “Does he have any other family in town?”
“No.” With every word the doctor spoke, Emily grew more afraid. Was Noah even alive? She forced herself to respond like an adult. To take this on. “He has his team and he has me.”
One of the coaches stepped up. “We’re fully responsible for him. How is he?”
Dr. Baxter hesitated. He explained that since Emily’s name was listed as his emergency contact, she could stay there to hear the news.
For a moment Emily rejoiced in the fact. Noah had listed her as his emergency contact just a few days ago. When one of the coaches had pressed him to provide at least one person not in England. She was thrilled to be asked. That meant he cared deeply for her. Like a best friend or a sister, even. Emily helped Clara take a seat at the far end of the waiting room. Then she joined the men from the team. Clara was watching, but Emily didn’t want her to hear the news. Even if she were allowed. Not yet.
“So how is he?” Emily reminded herself to breathe. The five guys from the team were waiting, too.
Dr. Baxter gave a slight shake of his head. “He’s going to make it. There were a few minutes there where we weren’t sure. His head took a very, very serious hit.”
He didn’t have to tell Emily. She watched it happen. “How is he now?”
“He’s breathing on his own. But his MRI shows a severe concussion. He’ll be out the rest of the season. If he ever plays again.” He gave the coaches and trainers a knowing look. “My recommendation is that he hang up his cleats.”
When Noah was well enough to leave the hospital a few days later, that was Emily’s recommendation, too. By then both of them knew the prognosis. Noah’s brain had taken such a devastating blow that any additional injury to that part of his head could be fatal or life-altering. Not only that, but he still had weeks of concussion rehab ahead.
Emily had never met Noah’s parents, but she became their point person, too. They called daily from London, but since Noah was recovering well enough they chose not to fly home. Funds were tight and they wanted to make a longer visit the following summer.
His mother begged Emily to let them know if anything changed or if Noah got worse. She was trying not to cry one of the last times they talked that semester. “Please, can you look after him, make sure he’s going through the rehab he needs?”
And Emily promised.
One thing was certain. Noah wouldn’t get the care he needed living in the dorm with the other football players. Since he had no family in the area, Emily did the only thing she could think to do. She took his recovery on herself.
So Noah moved into Emily’s mother’s old room. While he was still in the hospital, Emily sold her mother’s mattress and box spring on Craigslist and rented a hospital bed. She and Clara also went to the local fabric store and bought dark heavy material to make drapes for the window. Dr. Baxter had been clear. Noah needed as much darkness as possible, day and night. It was part of the healing process for his brain.
At first Noah fought the idea of moving in with Emily and Clara. “You need to study. You two have your life,” he told her before he was discharged. “I’ll be fine. In the dorm with the guys.”
But Emily wouldn’t hear of such a thing. “You’re staying with us till you’re well. I promised your doctor and your parents.”
After that there was no further discussion. Noah truly had no option. He needed to get well and Emily was willing.
She would never forget the look on Noah’s face when he first shuffled into his temporary bedroom. His head still hurt but at least he could walk and talk. He wore dark glasses, even indoors. At the doorway he stopped, like he was taking it all in. The elevated hospital bed, the adjacent tables and the dark curtains that hung over the window.
Then he turned to her. “You... did this for me?”
