“You can’t go through all that, Ty, and not come out affected. Your leg was snapped in half a couple of hundred yards below the surface of the earth. We carried you out on a stretcher.” His tone is somber. “We thought you were going to fucking die. That’ll mess with you.”
I nod. “Yeah, but I could’ve stayed sane. I could’ve managed everything better, but I didn’t. I let my marriage go to shit. I walked away from the team.”
They should’ve started practice this week. I looked at my watch at exactly five-o’clock on Monday and imagined them lined up at half-court, wondering why Reynolds was in front of them and not me.
I wonder what they thought, what they were told. How many voice messages were left in my inbox by them—Dustin, in particular. He’d have taken my leaving the hardest of them all and I should’ve reached out. But I didn’t. I failed them all too.
“It was the right choice,” I say aloud, maybe more for myself than for Jiggs.
“Maybe. But you aren’t just their coach. You’re their friend, their go-to. You can’t just say fuck it.”
“I already did.”
He looks at me and waits.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” I admit. “Elin hates me.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I wish I could hate her.”
Throwing me another cautionary glance, he strolls across the barn and gathers his gloves. “What are you gonna do? What’s the plan, Sir Fuck Up? I know you went to Blown. Lindsay called, said Elin left right after you.”
“I’ll put it to you like this—my first move didn’t go as expected.”
“You couldn’t have expected her to run to you. Cord calls her Pit Bull for a reason.”
I can’t fight the grin that spreads across my lips. Her fire and her fight are my favorite things about her. “I didn’t,” I admit. “But I didn’t expect such a coldness from her. Like she despises me.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No,” I gulp. “But she told me to leave—”
“I don’t give a fuck what Lindsay tells me,” Jiggs barks, his eyes lighting up, “I’m not leaving her. I don’t give a damn if she throws my shit in the yard and kicks my ass out the door, I’ll sit on the stoop until she lets me back in. Get my drift?”
“I was at fucking rock bottom,” I toss back, offended that he thinks I just took a vacation from my life. “Don’t you get that? The accident, the pain, the bills adding up because there’s no overtime. Watching E have to kill herself to keep us both going when that’s my fucking job! Having to get into the savings fund we’d been putting aside for years to get in-vitro. I couldn’t even fuck my wife without it being on some motherfucking calendar! Then, month after month, she takes the goddamn test and it’s negative and I have to look at her face and realize it’s me that failed her!” I shout, my face hot to the touch. “Damn it, Jiggs! I didn’t leave her because it sounded easier! There was no other choice!”
“I had no idea,” he whispers, his face paler than I’ve ever seen it.
Turning away from him, I drag lungful after lungful of air into my body and focus on calming down. When I turn back around minutes later, Jiggs is sitting on a cooler watching me.
“I just wanted to make things better,” I say. “I couldn’t stand fighting with her. There’s nothing worse than looking in the face of the person you love and seeing . . . disgust. Indifference. Wondering if she thinks you’re lazy or worthless or feels like you can’t even do your job and give her the baby you’ve both talked about since before you were even married.”
“Ty, man, I really didn’t know.”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE? DO YOU KNOW HOW EMASCULATING IT IS TO NOT BE ABLE TO PROPERLY FUCK YOUR WIFE?” I PAUSE, LETTING THAT SINK IN. “THE ONE TIME SHE GOT PREGNANT, SHE MISCARRIED. DO YOU REMEMBER THAT A FEW YEARS AGO? YEAH, WELL, SHE NEVER GOT OVER THAT. MAYBE IT WOULD’VE EASED UP IF I COULD’VE MADE IT HAPPEN AGAIN, BUT I FUCKING CAN’T!” I SCREAM. “I SWEAR TO GOD, IT’S JUST TOO MUCH PRESSURE. THAT’S THE PROBLEM.”
“It all came to a head the day I left,” I say, a hollowness to my voice that even I hear. “We lashed out. I think the hurt we both were feeling just hid behind so much anger. It’s easier to be pissed off than to feel pissed on all the time.”
Shaking my head, I lean against a work table. Saying this aloud to someone else feels good. Feels manageable. Jiggs offers nothing in response, so I keep going. “She told me to leave, and I left. I figured it couldn’t get any worse if I left, and it sure as shit wasn’t going to get any better if I stayed.”