Authors: Anne Leigh
Aaron and I shielded the women from the blinding lights of the cameras as we hopped into separate cars. We talked about meeting up again one of these days when we were both in the same state. He was a good friend, and it was good to see him again.
Later that night in bed, I was curious as to how Sedona felt about meeting Aaron, so I asked her, "How did you feel about meeting him?" Did he turn her on? I mean, she giggled like there was no tomorrow, and she blushed like something lit her red dress on fire.
She calmly said, "I felt like I was a teen again. Like I was in a movie scene, where my mind's all aflutter, waiting for my crush to notice me, and finally he does. And when he does, there is nothing there, because that's just it; a crush. The man that I love was sitting right next to me, and he was the one who made everything possible."
Just like that she had turned the tables on me.
Sedona loved me. I would always be jealous when other guys checked her out or when she checked them out. From the beginning she had never pretended to make me jealous on purpose. She had never been a petty woman like that. When she said she loved me, she meant it. She never strayed from me, instead always reassuring me that I was hers and she was mine.
I tucked her body close to mine. "Is he still your number one crush?"
I felt her smile against my chest as she replied, "Teenage Sedona will say yes. Present Sedona will say Z, and it's the forever kind of crush."
With that out of the way, we cuddled close to each other and fell asleep talking about our childhood and celebrity idols. Bringing back memories of how fun it was to be children. Because often times, we forgot how young we were. We haven't even reached a quarter of a century, yet the things we've gone through sure made it feel like we've lived half of it.
“Happiness is subjective. This, I know, my happiness is dependent on yours.”
Sedona
“Honey, that is one hunk of a man you got there,” Mrs. Maggie Kendrick said while watching the football game on TV.
I gave her a small smile and looked at the TV screen. What she said was true— Zander was my hunk of perfection. In his dark purple and white uniform, Zander looked smoking hot; his butt was tight, and his long, sinewy legs were showcased in his football gear.
Mrs. Kendrick was one of my three patients in the unit. She had been in and out of our unit because of her insulin problems, and she was also on weekly dialysis for her kidney problems.
Two days ago she had been in the intensive care unit because her blood sugar had spiked up to dangerously high levels.
Earlier she asked me what channel the football game was on, and because she was such a sweet lady, I disclosed to her that the quarterback for the Minnesota Fox was my fiancé. She screamed in delight at the revelation and requested that if Zander came to visit me that she wanted to meet him in person. I told her that if she had not been discharged yet she would.
I was checking on her blood sugar when I happened to glance at the TV and saw Zander and his team walking towards the field. I was hoping I could watch it at my place, but my relief nurse was not here yet because she was running late. The charge nurse asked me to stay for two hours, and as much as I wanted to say no, they were all nice to me and we had a shortage of staff at the moment.
I kept my eyes on the TV. Ms. Kendrick’s sugar was 170. It was high, but way better than the 280 from earlier.
I saw the Minnesota Fox break from the huddle. Zander went under center, signaling the offense that an all-out blitz was probably going to happen. He snapped the ball. As he was stepped back to pass, the offensive line caved under the pressure of the defense, letting two defensemen through who both hit Zander simultaneously and slammed him into the ground. After the two defensemen got off of him, Zander laid motionless on the field. The sportscasters’ voices could be heard on the TV, and they were saying that it didn’t look good for Zander. The referee called for an injury timeout and the TV station went on a commercial break.
My heart dropped to my stomach and it stayed there.
I felt the walls closing in on me. My hands started shaking and my knees started to wobble.
“Honey, come sit down here before you fall,” I heard Ms. Kendrick say. I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket. Cell phones were not allowed in the unit because the electromagnetic activity of the phones sometimes interfered with the medical equipment function, but this was an emergency. I dialed Raoul, our pilot, and told him to be ready. I would be at the airport in less than an hour.
Panic and hysteria battled within me, but adrenaline was slowly taking over. I rushed out of the room and talked to the charge nurse. She must have sensed my desperation. She asked me to breathe into a paper bag because I was hyperventilating. I took in long, slow breaths. My co-workers gathered around me; worry and concern were etched on their faces. Someone told me that Zander was getting up, and that the Minnesota Fox medical team was in the middle of the field.
There was no way for me to reach him. He wouldn’t have his cell phone on or even near him. John wouldn’t either. I called the number that Zander gave me for emergency purposes; Coach Benson’s cell phone. But he wasn’t picking up either.
As soon as I reached our plane I tried calling again. Finally his coach answered.
“This is Sedona calling for Zander. How is he? Is he okay?” My frantic voice could be heard across the plane. “I need to talk to him.”
Coach Benson said, “He’s being evaluated by the medics. He’s alert and talking right now. I’ll give the phone to my assistant so he can give it to Zander after he’s done with the medics.”
The game was still on, so his coach would have to be focused on the game.
I waited for about twenty minutes. Our plane was still on the tarmac. When were we ever going to get the clearance to take off? It was taking too long. I needed to get to him.
Relief rushed through me when I heard Zander’s voice on the line. “Hey babe, I’m okay.”
I felt the hot sting of tears pour over me. I had been afraid for him. I couldn’t look at the TV for long when I saw him lying on the turf. I did not want to believe that it was him.
“Baby,” I sniffed. “I was so scared…I’m flying over there right now.”
He sighed and said, “I’m okay. You don’t have to come. They’re bringing me to Minneapolis General Hospital to be evaluated. I’m fine babe.” I heard the reassurance in his voice.
“I don’t care if they said you’re okay,” I countered. “I need to see you. I’m going to be there in a few hours.”
He must have heard the resolve in my voice, because he said, “Okay. Don’t be stressed though. It’s bad for the baby.”
I felt the plane take off, slowly lifting away from the ground. “I love you so much Zander,” I cried. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
He whispered into the phone, “I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”
As soon as I got to Minnesota I went straight to the hospital. He was waiting on the results of the MRI and was waiting to be cleared.
The sight of him in a hospital stretcher, wearing a blue hospital gown, brought another wave of tears to my eyes.
When he saw me, he reached out his arms and cocooned me in them. I climbed onto the stretcher and I stayed in his embrace for the longest time.
My voice was muffled against his chest as I said, “Don’t ever scare me like that.”
He wiped the tears from my eyes and kissed the top of my head. “I think I’m going to have to serious talk with all the defenseman of the NFA and tell them my woman ordered them not to hit me like that.” Then he added, “I’m sorry that I scared you, and that you had to get off work for me.”
I searched his face; his eyes were solemn, beseeching, and apologetic.
“Zander,” I started in a serious tone, “No matter what happens, just remember,” I pressed onto his chest with my right hand, “you will always be my priority. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing or whatever is happening; I will always come to you. You’re my heart, remember? I can’t live without my heart. You’re the beat that runs through my veins and feeds my body.”
He hugged me tightly and said, “I know babe, I know. I’m so happy that you’re here.”
I savored the feeling of his body so close to mine. It frightened me to think just how close I was to losing him today. I would not know how to exist without him. I reached for his hand and pressed it on my stomach. “We need you with us, always. All of this stuff won’t matter without you.”
I scooted up on the bed, reached up to his face, and said, “I love you,” again.
The doctor came in and revealed that Zander was cleared for the next game, but that he would have to keep his shoulder immobilized for a few days.
When the doctor left, I noticed that I was still wearing my scrubs and my nursing shoes. I didn’t even have time to change into anything. All that mattered was getting to Zander,
reaching him
, because in the end he was all that mattered to me.
”I fight my own battles. With you at my side, I am impenetrable.”
Zander
Being a quarterback was tough.
Being a rookie quarterback in the big leagues was ten times harder.
Our last game was a loss by a touchdown. 21-28. That had been a tough pill to swallow. I hated losing. As a competitor, winning was always the goal. But I always managed to shake it off and move on.
This time, however, it was different.
During our last play, one of my wide receivers, Stock Vedder, was supposed to run left. Instead, he ran right. When he did that, I didn’t have any time to react because defensive end Shavon Tucker rushed and sacked the hell out of me. It wasn’t the first time that Vedder had done this. This was, however, the first time he did it during a game. He had done it a couple of times previously during practice. Coach Benson gave him grief about it. I didn’t say anything, because I thought he would fix it and run the route like he was supposed to.
There were many mistakes that happened during the last game that have contributed to our loss. Vedder’s obvious disregard to the play was the one that stuck in my head, because it was straight in-my-face disrespect to me as a quarterback.
I meant to talk to him about it - alone.
John and I were working out at the gym. He was spotting me as I bench pressed. It was still early, but the rest of my team would be coming in a few minutes.
John wondered, “What’s wrong with Vedder?” John was a defensive back. He was standing on the sidelines at that time, so he must have seen my confusion on the field when Vedder changed the play.
“I’ll talk to him,” I replied. “He needs to get his head straight and remember the plays.”
A bunch of guys entered just then, and I heard Vedder’s voice as he said, “Pretty boy didn’t know who to throw it to. That was funny man. He looked lost and confused.”
A guy, whom I recognized as Baron Trells, said, “Dude, it was during a game. You have to run the routes the way you’re supposed to.”
Vedder snickered. “I just wanted to see what our hotshot quarterback was going to do. You got to admit, it was kind of funny.”
Trells did not respond.
John looked down at me. He heard everything, and I saw his fists clenching. I gave him a look that said
I’ll take care of this.
Vedder probably didn’t know we were around, because John and I were in a somewhat hidden corner. I did a couple more bench presses as John added more weights.
I heard more guys enter the room. It was now eight o’clock in the morning. Everyone would be here by now.