Dr. Saltzman nods, then stands.
“Thank you.” I look up at him gratefully.
“It’s what I’m here for. Now hurry up and get better. The Crimson Tide needs a quarterback next year.”
I can’t help but snicker. Everyone’s a fan, even straight-edged neurosurgeons with quirky smiles.
“Mom, you okay?” I ask once Dr. Saltzman leaves. She nods, but the dam breaks.
“I’m sorry, Kam. I want to be strong.” She wipes her eyes. “But, baby almost losing you …”
“Mom, stop.” I can’t stand it when she cries. “Just come here and hug me.” I can’t stand it when any girl cries. She darts the two feet separating us and gingerly wraps her arms around me, her tears wetting my cheek. I hold onto her as much as my weak muscles will allow. This really sucks; I feel helpless. “You heard the doctor; I’m going to be okay.” Thank God.
“I know.” She pulls away from me and smiles with swollen eyes and a red nose.
“That will be it, baby, I promise. No more tears. Unless they’re of joy. You’re awake and alive, and that’s something to celebrate.”
“Damn straight.” I try to sound cheerful, but I’m suddenly really, really tired.
“Dad is picking up Trevor and Luke from school. They should be here in a little bit. He was upset he left right before you woke up.”
“How’s he doing?” My parents divorced when I was ten and my twin brothers were six. He still plays a very active role in our lives, despite being remarried and living in another town.
“He’s a mess. His all-star golden boy and first born son? He would be done if he lost you. We both would.”
“Well, apparently it’s kind of hard to get rid of me.”
“And we thank our lucky stars for that.” She kisses my head. “Get some rest so your brothers can come and harass you.”
“Can’t wait.” I yawn, barely able to keep my eyes open.
***
Physical therapy is a mind fuck.
My brain says run, but my body laughs and holds me hostage at a snail’s pace on the treadmill. It’s been three weeks since I woke up from the coma. Two weeks were spent in the hospital and the last week I’ve spent at home, focusing on rehab. I didn’t realize the toll being unconscious for fourteen days took on my body until I tried to stand. It’s like everything just stopped working and has been protesting to start up again ever since.
“Come on, Kam, two more minutes then you’re done,” my trainer, Dylan, says. He’s been assigned my case. That’s what I’m called, a case. It pisses me off. I’m Kamdyn Fucking Ellis, not a case. Not an invalid or some impaired Joe Schmo, even though that’s how I feel at the moment.
“Just rev it and give my body a challenge. I’m tired of the leisurely strolls.”
Dylan laughs, his big brown eyes sparkling. He doesn’t look much older than me, even though he claims to be in his mid-twenties. “Look all-star. I get you’re used to pushing your body. But it’s still recovering. I’m not going to chance an injury just because your inner warrior wants a battle. For now, you just have to grin and bear it. We’ll get there.”
“Grrrr …” I can’t stand this. “I want to run, I want to punch, kick, shred. I feel like a walking set of stripped bones.”
“Easy killer.” Dylan laughs mildly. He’s like the most laidback person I have ever met. It’s annoying. The treadmill beeps and turns off. I am beyond frustrated. I hate this. I want to be better. Tomorrow. “I know this is hard on you, seeing as you’ve probably never been held back a day in your life.”
So true. “It’s an emotional challenge as much as a physical one. You just have to stay in the zone and keep your eye on the ball.”
I grimace. Laney’s football references are so much sexier. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. She sent me a card while I was in the hospital. It read:
An apple a day keeps the doctor away … if you have good aim and it’s accurate.
Kam, this card made me think of you. Hope you get well soon. Chem sucks without you.
Laney xo
I contemplated calling her but decided against it. What would I say? Hey, want to come over and hang out with a cripple who may never play football again? Whose future might be fucked? Yeah. I don’t think so. Who’d want to spend time with a loser like that?