The Crush (2)

“Can you make a castle?” she asked.

I blew a raspberry. “I have a degree in architecture from Stanford. A castle is nothing.”

She giggled.

I stood, glancing around the waiting room. A family in the corner watched us, the little boy giving me a wide-eyed stare. He wore a Ft. Lauderdale shirt, so I walked over and knelt next to his chair. “Hey, bud, do you mind if I borrow this little table next to your chair?”

He nodded rapidly, eyes massive in his face. “You’re … you’re Emmett Ward, aren’t you?” he asked in a hushed, incredulous whisper.

“I am. What’s your name?”

He managed it, only stammering a few times.

I held out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cory.”

“Will you sign my shirt?” he said in a nervous rush.

“Of course. I don’t have a marker on me, though,” I told him.

His mom held up a hand, digging into her massive purse until she pulled out a Sharpie. He leaned back so I could scrawl my name on the left side of his chest over the logo I’d worn for the past five years.

She gave me a thankful smile as I returned her Sharpie, then wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulder. “We saw the replay on ESPN. I hope your teammate will be okay.”

“Thank you. We do too.” I stood, picking up the small table. “I’ll bring it back when I’m done, I promise.”

After I set the table in front of Gabriela, she excitedly dumped out the varying shapes and sizes of Legos in pinks and purples and teals. One Batman figure was mixed in, and she picked it up, zooming him around in the air while I sifted through the offerings. I scratched my head. A castle might be tough, but I always loved a challenge.

I gave her a serious look. “You have an important job, okay?”

She nodded.

I held up one of the larger bricks. “You need to find me all the blocks in this size.”

Tongue tucked between her teeth, she dug into her task with gusto.

Rebecca smiled as she approached. “Thank you, Emmett. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“Anything you need, you know that.” I held up my phone. “I skipped all the press, so I’m sure a few other guys will be here soon. What about your family?”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Malcolm’s mom is getting on a flight now. It’ll be hours until she’s here.”

We left Gabriela by the chair and moved a few feet away. “They tell you anything?”

Rebecca nodded. “They’ll need to do spinal stabilization surgery in the next day or two. They couldn’t promise he’d ever walk again, though,” she said, voice wavering.

I settled a hand on her shoulder. “One day at a time, okay? Malcolm is so damn stubborn. If anyone can prove them wrong, it’s him.”

“I know.” The tears in her eyes spilled over. “Wheelchair or walking or limping, as long as he’s here. I know he won’t feel this way, but I don’t care if this ends his football career. I want him alive. Everything else is just details.”

A nurse approached, gently calling Rebecca’s name, so I took my seat next to Gabriela again.

She climbed on my lap while I showed her how I was going to build her a castle with a tower on each corner.

“Those are the battlements, and if we make a bigger wall encircling it, then this will be the outer bailey.”

“Pink battle… battlemans?” she asked. Her elbow jabbed me in the ribs as she scooted forward to watch what I was doing.

“If we have the right sizes, sure.”

As we formed our structure, and G carefully placed the bricks down along our foundation, I watched Rebecca speak in hushed tones to the nurse.

What if that was me?

But this time, instead of the hollow ache or icy hands, it was just a moment—quick and fierce—of realization.

There would be no one slumped against the hospital wall saying a prayer. I’d have no one pacing the hallway until their name was called.

Malcolm and I were the same age. Started the same season.

And he had a wife and a daughter waiting for him. Two people who were his whole world.

I tried to snap a pink brick into place on the back tower, and my hand trembled. The last time I built something like this to cheer someone up, it was in a dark kitchen in my parents’ beach house, the night before the draft.

I did it because it made her smile, and I liked it when she did that.

I hadn’t thought of her smile in so long. There was no point.

I’d chased something else through college and into the pros. But sitting in that hospital waiting room, I wasn’t exactly sure what I had to show for it.

I had records. Trophies. A name that stood separately from my father’s.

My family loved me, and they were proud of me.

But they were across the country.

Every night, I came home to a beautiful, empty house, and it didn’t bother me. But with G on my lap, and my friend’s spine injured to a point that he might never walk again, I wondered how I’d feel if I was in his place.

The seed of a thought started building at the back of my head, something growing in form and shape, that I couldn’t quite grasp onto. Brown eyes and a big smile, a laugh that always warmed my chest.