Page 34 of Sliding into Love
“Hey, T, long time no see. How's it hanging?”
I drop into the chair beside him, the one that's noticeably empty since his brother isn't here.
Tollide rolls his head to the side to look at me. “Well, it's hanging here and there, as you can see.”
He tilts his head slightly towards the machines propping his body up.
“Yeah, I see you got yourself in a bit of a pickle here. How are you feeling though?” I change my tone from teasing to honest.
I want a real update from him, not just superficial things that the nurses are telling me or his brother is hinting at.
“Doing okay,” he says.
The words ring as true. He’s not that great of a liar. Somehow, he always manages to sneeze right after. Since there’s no need to say “bless you,” I’m going with the notion he’s being honest.
I just don't understand how he could possibly feel that way so soon. When I had my injury, I spent months in a depression. It was a funk that latched onto me. I didn't know who I was without baseball.
Thankfully, I realized there was an alternate route, and I built my life up even better than it could have been had I kept playing professionally. I don't regret any of the decisions I'vemade to get to where I am. And even selling the team comes with benefits.
“I’m glad you're doing well,” I tell him. “What did you want to talk about?”
I lean forward, elbows moving to my knees as I give him my undivided attention.
He clears his throat, setting the remote down beside him. Some infomercial about pots and pans plays on the tv. Neither of us pays it any mind.
“I want to talk to you about what happens after,” he says. “I don't know what my life is like without baseball. It's been my guidepost for as long as I can remember. Leaving it behind isn't an option. So I need to know what my actual options are.”
I smile. It's big and full of joy. There's no hiding how happy his words make me.
“You can do whatever you want, man. I will find a spot for you; or rather, Royce and I will. They have been fully on board with bringing you into a different position on the team. You name it, and it's your spot.”
“Anything?” he asks.
“Anything,” I agree. “You want to be out there with water bottles, spraying the guys down? We’ll get you some bottles of water. You want to be a trainer? Sure, here’s a clipboard and whistle. Want to be one of the communications folks and help with PR? I’ll get you a press pass in an hour. I don't care. I'm happy to have you be a part of the Blue Jays in any capacity.”
“Even if it's going to take a long time? The doctors say that because I'm an athlete, my body will probably heal a bit quicker, but it's still a long road.”
“I know it. I've been through something similar, but not to this extent. When I was recovering, everyone kept telling me that I was in the best shape of my life before it happened so my bodywould know what to do. And while it did, it was still an arduous journey. It still took longer than I wanted.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep! Yours will too. But one day you'll wake up, and you'll be able to walk just fine. You'll be a little achy when it rains or when it's really cold out, which never happens here.”
He snorts at my joke.
“The point is, you'll be at a new sort of normal, and the past will be a great memory. But it's just that—the past.”
“You make it sound so easy,” he tells me.
“Oh, hell. Don't believe that bullshit. It's not easy at all. What it is, is reality. The good news is you have an entire support team to help you. I'm here. Royce is here. The team is here. Those guys, they love you. They will be thrilled that you want to come help out.”
A single tear moves down his cheek. “I love those guys too.”
“Good because now you get to be a pain in their ass in a different way.”
He gives a cracked laugh, and I chuckle right along with him.
“Tell me the joke,” a deep voice interrupts, drawing our attention to the doorway. “I leave for a couple of seconds and you two are already happy-go-lucky over here.”
