Page 84 of Sweet Little Lies
Chapter 33
Lance
To say it’s been a week from hell is an understatement.
I’ve been trying to get used to using this wheelie-mobile to get around on campus. It’s a scooter with a padded bench that I prop my knee on so I can remain mobile and keep my foot elevated at the same time. And so I can avoid crutches. That would’ve been killer.
Originally, I had been worried that the pain would be unbearable and I wouldn’t be able to medicate myself and that would lead to using again. But I’ve doubled up on meetings and also my therapist appointments this week to keep me centered. And I’m also on my way to have coffee with Coach Parker.
He and have clicked since my stint in rehab. There’s something that ties us together. Maybe it’s the pain of losing people, I don’t know. He’s only six years older than me, but at twenty-eight, he offers me a lot of real-life perspective.
“Well if it isn’t Lance “Scooter” Britton,” he calls out as I make my way into the coffee shop off campus.
We decided to meet here because there was good Handicap parking right outside and I have a temporary parking placard that I’m using while in this get-up.
I wheel over to the table and he stands up to grab my backpack from my shoulder as I sit down, careful not to hit my booted foot against the table.
“Go ahead and poke fun, old man. You’ll be using a walker sooner than you know it.”
I always give him hell about his age because he knows I’m kidding. The guy looks like he could be a college student himself still.
The waitress comes over and takes our orders. I’m starving because I haven’t eaten yet this morning. He just orders coffee and a bagel.
“So, how you feeling? The pain manageable?” he asks, pouring some sugar in the coffee mug the waitress sets down in front of him.
I shrug. “Meh, it’s not as bad as it could be, so there’s that.”
He stares at me intently while stirring his coffee. “So then why the long face? You look like someone killed your puppy.”
I groan, taking a gulp of my orange juice and mumble. “Worse than that.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “And?”
I plop my elbow down on the table, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
“My girlfriend, Mica…” I look around the room to make sure I’m not overheard. “She’s pregnant.”
Coach’s face is thoughtful, reflective as he sits up against the chair and nods his head.
“Been there, done that. At least she’s your girlfriend and not a stranger.”
For a second, I’m confused. What’s he saying?
“You mean, you had a kid with a one-night stand?”
He smiles tightly. “Yup, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I’m still confused, because I thought he married his girlfriend. “But, you were married. She wasn’t the mother?”
Coach shifts in his seat and looks out the window. “It’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you with details. But I’ll tell you what. My son, Caleb, is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
When I give him a ‘you’re full of shit’ cocked eyebrow, he smiles.
“I’m not kidding, man. I’ve been dealt a lot of shit through the choices I made. And Caleb being born and his mother being a stranger to me, was a pretty fucked up situation. I wasn’t ready to be a father. I wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath of a one-night-stand. Or the ringer my then girlfriend, turned wife, put me through. But I certainly grew up fast. And I learned how to love something so precious and pure. That little boy, the minute his tiny fist held on to my finger…shit, my life changed for the better.”
My head feels dizzy. Unbalanced. Like I’m one of those hanging punching bags, and I’ve beenthwampedandpummeledand I’m spinning around, unable to stop.
“Lance, I don’t know where you’re at with your girlfriend”
