At the complex, Gabe paced quietly across the narrow hallways, waiting for Dr. Simmonds to update several of the coaches on the status of Fabian Velesquez. During the second practice of the day, he had been sprinting along the sideline and been tackled within seconds of catching the ball. All of the players, and especially the three coaches who stood near, heard the crunch as his body collided with a defenseman. Breath swept out of each of their mouths and drifted with the wind, their hearts stopped at the sight of a star player falling to the ground in agony.
Gabe scratched the scruff on his face, a noise broke through down the hall and his eyes followed to see Dr. Simmonds walking toward him and Tony. His pace was slow, but determined. The look in his eyes, told Gabe everything he needed to know.
"His hip is bruised. Nothing's broken but he's going to need to rest." The voice of the younger man was calm, but still shaky.
"Nothing's broken?" Tony blurted the words with brutal force.
"It's hard to tell. We'll need to pull him for an MRI to really see what happened. The tech couldn't see anything obtrusive on the x-rays but I want to run more tomorrow. Off-hand, I'd say if you play him it risks a fracture if it's not already there, and for his own safety you're going to bench him." Dr. Simmonds dropped his voice as the three stood in a section of the coaching unit so nobody else could hear.
"How long do you think, Doc?"
The man was hesitant in answering, seeing the distress on the coaches' faces. "Your guess is as good as mine, only time will tell. We'll start a full evaluation, but forget about playing him anytime within the next four weeks." Dr. Simmonds nodded toward the men. "That's all I've got for now, he's at home resting now. He's coming out and meeting me at the hospital tomorrow by eight. I'll know more then. Look, I'm heading out, he's fine for now." He turned from the men, and began walking down the corridor toward the exit.
Gabe turned to Tony, his frustration boiling over. "Shit. What about Phillips? Do you think he can fill in the gap?"
"We'll have to try him out, I don't know." Tony immediately pulled his phone out and started to make calls out to a few of the other coaches. As he was scrolling through the number listings, he turned to Gabe. "I'm leaving after this." Without waiting for a response, he turned from Gabe and started talking to someone on the telephone as he walked down the hall.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was just after eleven, taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, only to get hit with the overwhelming news floating inside of his head. For the past several weeks, more injuries seemed to be plaguing the team than wins. Having Velesquez out for at least four weeks was going to put the team at a major deficit, which would add more time for studying plays and working with the players. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Gabe rolled his neck and once again looked down at his watch.
The weight of it was getting heavier as each second passed by. Gabe still hadn't heard from Samantha, and he was beginning to feel angry with himself for not talking with her for that long. He'd gotten drunk after the game on Sunday so, Jennings had to drive him back to his house, something he didn't expect, but didn't fight, as he found himself in the passenger seat. Through the car ride, the kid kept telling him to call Samantha in order to snap out of his funk. To make matters worse, he was going to call her just after the afternoon practice, but once the team's physician made an appearance, hours passed filled with a full assessment of the player's injury.
Gabe rubbed his eyes as he walked down the narrow hall at the back toward his own office. He didn't want to go home but he sure as hell didn't want to be near the field. The coach's office he had been stuck in for the past several hours was bare, except for a filing cabinet and an old television screen. The cramped quarters made his thoughts undeniably clear. He was losing the one thing that was most important in his life. For nothing. Grabbing his jacket from the coat rack behind his door, he thrust his arms through and reached into the pocket for his phone. It was an automatic move, something he had done dozens of times. The phone was cold in his large hands, as he pushed through the double doors exiting the complex that was when he looked at the display. Several messages and missed calls were indicated. Gabe started to scroll through the listing and nearly dropped the phone when he saw Samantha's name.
For a second, he almost couldn't breathe. Without hesitating, he quickly listened through the voicemails to hear her voice, but none were left from her. When Gabe got to his truck, he placed the phone on the hood and stared up at the cold November sky. Samantha was calling him, but she wouldn't leave a message. His mind couldn't piece it together, but seeing her name caused hope to surge through him. Hope followed by guilt.
For a confident man, he had lost every ounce of it since their fight over the holiday. He knew that he should have gone to her once she arrived back at home. He should have done something. Gabe begun to miss her in more ways than he could count and knew after he had made the drive back over from Michigan what went wrong with that terrible conversation. Over the course of his relationships, he had always been busy with memorizing plays, training, studying other teams. He had put football first and never put much into the relationships before Samantha, because the other women just gave up. He gave up. The thought made him feel ashamed for his attitude.
Samantha was different; she was putting everything she knew into their relationship without holding anything back. For the past few days, Gabe had thought about what she said over the telephone and could now understand her intentions. He was tired and frustrated at the time, causing him to overreact and completely miss the point. He knew she wasn't trying to burden him, because of his job. But he still wanted to know her thoughts. He wanted to know the good and the bad. Time spent apart from her was just as hard for him. What she was feeling was no different than what he was, they just needed for each other to know and understand that. Since she got back, he didn't know anything that was going on with her.
The only information he had been able to weasel out of Ernie was that Camille was having dinner with Samantha that evening. Deciding to himself that he needed to see her, needed to work on fixing this break between them, he thrust the keys into the ignition and shot onto the expressway in the direction of her house.
Keeping his phone within sight while making the drive, Gabe's eyes kept darting to the dark screen yearning for her call, to hear her voice. Unsure why, but some force told him she just might call. The drive was fast with the evening traffic, and as he pulled up to the townhouse, he hoped, seeing the porch light on, that Samantha might be awake. He took several deep breaths before gaining enough courage to head up to her front door. Never in his life had ever been this nervous, but enough was enough. Cursing himself for not having a key to the house, he peered through the glass windows near the front door. He saw that the light in the hallway was lit but the rest of the house remained dark. She never left lights on, so he knew she was home.
Gabe thought about ringing the doorbell, but glanced down at his watch again and figuring the time, didn't think that was appropriate. All of the windows were closed, and as he walked toward the back of the house, he saw that her bedroom light was on. Looking around for something to throw at the window, a light came on at the side of the house. He straightened as Samantha's neighbor came outside and hollered out at him.
"You don't leave from the back of that house, I'm going to call the police." An elderly woman with a cackling voice shouted out to Gabe.
Gabe squeezed his eyes shut, and wished he remembered the woman's name. Straightening, he walked toward her. "Sorry ma'am, my girlfriend lives here."
"I don't care if your mother lives there," the woman clearly didn't remember meeting Gabe and kept an angry tone to her voice. "It's a little late for breaking in tonight."
"I wasn't breaking in. I just don't have a key to get in." Gabe groaned at the lack of conviction in his statement. It would be a wonder if the woman believed him, since she clearly didn't recognize him.
The woman sucked on her teeth. "Well, I'd say a man snooping around these parts right now isn't any good. A doorbell won't do you any harm."
"Yes, ma'am." The woman walked back into her house and shut the porch light off, leaving Gabe in the darkness. His body shaking with defeat, he never quit something. Never walked away, but this time it was out of his hands and he had to. Slowly walking back to the truck, he shook his head knowing there had to be another way. Just as he unlocked the door, it came to him. A few weeks ago he had come over to her house in between meetings. Samantha was having parent teacher conferences and she had told him that her garage door had a keypad on the side of the wall. Racking his brain he tried to remember the code and tapped the pad of his index finger on the rubber numbers.