One month ago
“This is the kind of thing you discuss with a parent, Vance. For God’s sake!” my father yelled from behind the bar. We were alone. Joey and Bill weren’t there yet, and Oscar had to stay after school to finish some project. I’d planned to drop the bomb when it was just the two of us.
I knew he’d flip out when I told him about Drexel, but not this bad. For a minute there, I thought he might finally hit me. I was too nervous to sit down so I decided to pace.
“So now what, genius?” he shouted. “It’s too late to apply somewhere else!”
My feet took me to the other end of the bar.
“You just, poof, gave up a full ride,” he snapped. “So you had a few rough practices. That doesn’t mean you give up everything you’ve worked for! Without even talking with your father.”
A few rough practices? Was he really that clueless? And last time I checked, it was my knee, not his. Was he the one who had to look himself in the mirror and know, deep down in his gut, that he’d ruined his life? Did he have to do that?
He could walk and run and jump without pain. Without wincing and grinding his teeth. He didn’t have a gnawing fear that wrapped itself around his confidence, squeezing the life out of it until it was nothing but an empty shell—fear of reinjury.
Fear of the volcanic pain.
Dad smacked the bar. “Will you stand still and stop walking around like an idiot?”
I turned to face him. “Don’t you think I’d have taken the scholarship if I could? Do you seriously think I wanted to stop playing lacrosse?” I pounded my chest a few times. “Can you see me, Dad? I fucked up everything, just like you said!”
Dad’s shoulders slumped. He was panting and white as a ghost. Holy shit, was he having a heart attack? “Are you all right?” I marched behind the bar. He waved me off and went into his office. Of course I followed him. “Dad! Stop.”
He sat at his desk and glared at me. The color was back in his cheeks.
“I did what I had to do. I didn’t have a choice,” I said. Saying it out loud confirmed my decision. My knee would never be the same.
His lips formed a thin line, and he shook his head. “I am your damn father, Vance. I deserved to be told. Now get out and stack the cases.”
Before closing his door, I turned and said, “Just so you know, I have a plan, Dad.”