Page 28 of Lessons in Lemonade

His eyes flare at the sight of me, and the muscles in his face relax with an intense level of relief at having someone come. Every bit of nervousness I felt on the death march coming down here instantly disappears, and all I see is him.

Putting one foot in front of the other, determination to wrap him up and make this all better pounds through my veins. As I reach him and slide my arms around him, he tucks his face in the crook of my neck and leans into me in such a devastating way, and I know with certainty coming down here was the right thing to do. Against mine, his chest begins moving up and down inconsistently, letting me know just how much disappointment his poor heart can’t restrain any longer. With my own tears freely flowing, I run my fingers through his hair and hold him tight.

Pickled Red Onions

WITHIN MINUTES OF Meg arriving and me having a meltdown that’s worthy of an award, Dr. Leffers is back with two others following him, and through the double doors comes a flatbed cart to transport me out. The doctor gives Meg a brief, curious look—I’m still clinging to her like she’s my lifeline—but then it’s gone and he’s all business.

Most knee dislocation injuries for athletes result in artery and nerve damage as well, and I have to block out the possibilities of this as they examine me one more time. During the exam, they use a portable ultrasound machine to watch the blood flow in the popliteal artery, the one that runs behind the knee, and all signs point to undamaged. Thank God. Otherwise I would have been rushed to a hospital here to prevent amputation of the lower leg. Additionally, they kept poking at the peroneal nerve to see if it had been compromised, and it doesn’t appear that it has. The consequences of that could be temporary paralysis like drop foot, or even worse, permanent paralysis.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital here? I would feel more comfortable having it looked at in greater detail to rule out some of the other complications we examined for.” He wraps his stethoscope around his neck and frowns down at me. I lean farther into Meg, and her arms tighten around me.

“Blood flow is fine?” I watch his face for any tell that might express that it’s not. He gives me none.

“Seems to be.” He shrugs his shoulder a tiny bit.

If he thought for one second there were complications beyond ligament tears, he would have already put me in an ambulance. I know him; he errs on the side of caution versus let’s wait and see.

“Then I want to go home,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

The doctor lets out a deep sigh, nods, and positions himself next to the team’s head athletic trainer to help me off the table and onto the cart. I show Meg where my things are, she grabs my bag, which the sports trainer packed for me, and the three of us hang on as we’re taken through the emergency vehicle tunnel to an SUV that’s waiting outside.

“So, Jack,” Dr. Leffers starts after they’ve positioned me in the car. “We’ve arranged for a vehicle to pick you up at the executive airport in Tampa, and from there you will head straight to the hospital, where Dr. Watson will be waiting for you. I don’t foresee there being any problems or delays, and if all goes well, by this time tomorrow, you should be home in your own bed recovering.”

I give him a nod. “Sounds good. Thanks, Doc.”

The words are like acid on my tongue. I’m thankful he’s helping me, but I’m not thankful that I’m in this situation in the first place. I’m sad, frustrated, and extremely pissed off.

He wishes me well, lets me know he’ll be following up with Dr. Watson, and says he’ll see me in a few days. The door closes, and silence descends like a vacuum. I’m closed off from the game, from my teammates, and with every mile further separating me from them, my soul feels more lost.

The entire commute to the plane is silent. Meg is in the front seat due to me needing the full back to extend my leg, but she glances my way a couple of times, and once she reaches back and rests her hand on top of my uninjured knee.

I know there are things I need to say to her, mainly that she doesn’t have to be here, doesn’t have to come with me, but selfishly I want her by my side, so I refrain from giving her the out.

As we board the private plane, I’m helped by staff waiting to assist me, and after I’m seated with my leg stretched out in the aisle, Meg boards and sits across the way, in the opposite rear-facing seat so she can look at me. It’s the first time in the last hour I’ve taken an actual detailed look at her, and she’s a sight for sore eyes. It’s then I see she’s wearing my number.

My number.

Not just a team T-shirt to support the Tarpons, but one with my name across her back to support me. I know that’s what fans do, buy gear with our numbers, but still, on her it looks like I’m hers and feels like she’s mine. An unexpected sense of pride waves through me, and I catch my breath, swallowing down even more emotions trying to push their way to the top.

The door to the plane closes, and the single stewardess gives us her spiel. I reach over to hold Meg’s hand, neither of us saying anything, just looking at each other.

“Thank you for being here,” I tell her once we’ve taken off, rubbing my thumb across the back of her hand.

She shifts in her seat so she’s better facing me and gives me a small smile. “I was only there for you in the first place. Where you are is where I want to be.”

Her words touch a place deep in my chest. I want to smile back, I do, but I can’t seem to get my lips to rise. She’s so beautiful.

“I didn’t know you were coming. When we talked about it this week, you said no.” I look at her earnestly.

“I know. It was a last-minute decision by Lexi, and well, she invited me to be her plus-one, so I jumped at the opportunity. I felt regret about missing your game, and it hadn’t even happened yet. I wanted to be there. So, when she called going into the weekend, the only thing to say was yes.”

“I wish you had told me,” I tell her. My parents weren’t interested in coming due to the weather, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, so I didn’t think I was sharing the experience with anyone other than the team.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“I thought about it, but you needed to focus, and I just figured I would see you afterward.” She smiles warmly, but her eyes tell me differently. She thought she’d see me afterward, after we won. Then again, it’s what we all thought. At takeoff, the Wolves were leading, and right now, I just can’t bring myself to log into the plane’s Wi-Fi and look.

“Where were you sitting?” I ask curiously.