Two weeks without exercise. Ty had barely even walked since getting home. Immediately, it was tough just getting around the house. The hallway leading to the his room and the bathroom was narrow, and he lost count of the times his mother yelled at him for scuffing the walls.
He hadn't been back to school, not even in the few days before spring break. There was nothing for him there, and he definitely wasn't about to deal with all the fake fawning and bullshit concern from people who hadn't even known his name before the start of the year.
But everything was taking too long. The days were so stretched out. There was nothing for him to do. He'd watched the Longhorns game repeatedly, until he could've given play-by-play commentary without any video for guidance.
Trying to do anything without his crutches was torture. The pain was unbearable, even with his medications, which itself was a shadow of the drugs the hospital had been pumping him full of. Still, they were something he had to keep close. There was nothing else for him to be doing, but he knew if he wasn't there to be a guard dog for them, those pain-killers would've vanished even if he just took a long enough shit.
But finally, two weeks after returning home, and once spring break was almost over, Ty could begin his physical rehabilitation… if someone was willing to take him. Father was working, and Mother was nowhere to be seen.
Of course, none of his older siblings were gonna be any help. Devon had pretty much unofficially moved out, and it wasn't like he had his own car anyway, nor did Vickie.
Ty was without any other option. He didn't want to bother the man who had his own family to look after, and vacation to enjoy, but eventually, he called Coach Long.
The phone was answered after a couple of rings, then Coach Long's voice, full of concern, was greeting Ty. 'Hello, Tyrese. Is everything alright?'
'Hey, Coach…' Ty gripped his phone tight, still not wanting to make such a request, and lay such a burden—however small it was in reality—at his coach's feet. It felt like toppling a mountain in front of him. 'Could you take me to my rehab?'
There was a brief pause, less than a second, though Ty knew Coach Long was figuring out a lot of things in that minuscule amount of time. He would've known how helpless Ty would have to be to make a call like this, but he hardly missed a beat.
'Sure thing, Tyrese. Did you need me to come pick you up now?'
'Yes… if that's not too much to ask.'
'Of course not. What kind of coach would I be if I left one of my boys in his time of need?'
A normal one, Ty thought. He doubted there was anything in the code of ethics or responsibilities when you signed up to coach your high school football team that said you had to drive the players to and from doctors appointments even during the season, let alone outside of it.
'I'll be there soon, Tyrese.'
'Thanks, Coach.'
Ty hung up, sighing. How embarrassing. One more year and he could drive his own car, at least… if he had a car to drive. To get a car meant money, to get money meant a job, and a job meant way too much time given over to something that wasn't football.
Thankfully, Ty didn't have to wallow in his uselessness much longer. Coach Long was indeed there soon, and Ty hobbled out to the front to meet him. There was no need to greet Ty's parents, because obviously they weren't there, so Ty went straight for Coach Long's car. Coach Long got the back door for him, as Ty placed his crutches over the back seat, then pulled himself into the passenger seat. He was a little surprised Bella wasn't there.
'Bella was at a friend's house,' Coach Long said, noticing Ty's searching glance. 'She needs to enjoy her break as well; I didn't want to bother or worry her with this.'
Ty nodded. It wasn't like he needed her there. She'd probably just make it even more embarrassing. He shared a knowing look with Coach Long. Maybe that was why he'd really left his daughter behind. It would've been too much unnecessary hassle otherwise.
Yet there would be other hassles as they pulled away from the curb and back onto the road. The drive wasn't going to be long, though it certainly wasn't short either, and Thaddeus Long was the type who didn't listen to music while driving—Ty suspected he'd be listening to motivational speeches if he was alone, corny, but sincere rather than like some cringe "alpha male"—which left a lot of dead air, that questions would inevitably fill.
'Speaking of Bella,' Thaddeus eventually said, 'what's going on with you two?'
'Is there something going on?' Ty responded.
'Hah. I meant more… well, I guess I'll just be blunt and say it, but I could've sworn you two were dating.'
Ty's brow furrowed. Why would anyone think that? 'We aren't.'
'No? Hm. She could've fooled me with the way she goes on about you, and how she looks at you. Did something happen?'
'I'm just not interested.'
'Is that so? Hah. I guess it's better than you running after any girl you see with legs you like.'
Ty glanced across at Coach Long. Legs? Though he didn't voice his question, and without anything else to add, the car settled into silence once more. Thankfully, it lasted until they reached the physiotherapy clinic fifteen minutes later.
It was being run out of someone's home, though looked professional enough. The front room had been turned into a lobby of sorts, and an older Latino gentleman welcomed them warmly. He had such an aged look, Ty could've been convinced the man had sprouted from the wooden desk he sat behind.
As Ty hobbled over to a seat, Thaddeus explained who they were, and who Ty was there to see. The wait wouldn't be long, and they were told to take a seat. At least it didn't smell—not bad, anyway, its scent was more like… lavender and butter—and was warmer than a typical clinic. More homely.
The departure of another limping patient preceded the therapist's arrival. She was a young-looking, black woman, with dimpled cheeks and an infectious smile. A strange mixture of youth and wisdom exuded from her rich, brown eyes, like she could've been Ty's mother, even if she would've been a teenager when he was born.
She was dressed casually, though still smartly and warmly with an orange jacket over a white turtle-neck.
'Tyrese Samuels?' she asked.
He stood lamely on his crutches. 'Yeah.'
'I'm Doctor Deborah Goggins. Follow me.'
She turned, walking down a hall. Thaddeus nodded at Ty and said: 'You've got it from here.'
Ty started after Dr Goggins who waited for him before a doorway to a study turned examination room. A medical table sat in the centre of it, surrounded by bookshelves as well as posters and diagrams of the human body.
'Was that your father?' Dr Goggins asked.
'My coach,' he answered as he set his crutches aside and pulled himself onto the table.
'Ahh, the man responsible for you visiting my office today.'
'My weakness is the only reason I'm here.'
She set aside the file she'd been checking and looked at him, staring deeply. He stared back, unflinching.
She returned to the file, drawing a pen from her coat pocket, she jotted a note down. 'That attitude and wherever it came from would've had a big part in how you ended up here. You'll need to cut that out if you want to get any better. I know it might work in your movies and TV shows, but that macho man bullshit doesn't fly in real life, Tyrese.'
He scowled at her, though she stared back, unfazed. She wasn't angry, or glaring, and her voice hadn't raised, though it was as sharp as a knife.
'I'll ask you one thing before we begin, because without this I know there'll be no point in working with you at all. Everything I tell you, you are to do EXACTLY. I don't want any "if's" "and's" or "but's" about it. You follow my instructions to the letter. If you don't; if you try to push yourself beyond what I've said you can handle; if you try to do something a different way, you can hobble your ass back out of here and find somebody else who cares nothing about making you stronger, and only wants to take your money while stroking your ego. Got it?'
Ty ground his teeth. Who was she to talk about his body and act as if she knew it better than he did? But where had he got himself if not in her office. He sighed, nodding. 'Fine.'
'Let's begin then.' She stood by his side, looking him over for the first time. 'Do you mind taking your shoes off?'
Ty sat up, untying his sneakers, tossing them down to the floor. She raised a brow at the messy way he got rid of them, but moved on.
'How are your legs feeling?'
'The right one's stronger than ever. The left one might as well not be there.'
She nodded, and felt his right knee, getting a baseline from it as she squeezed and massaged it like she was trying to scoop under the kneecap and dig into his marrow. Then she was bending his leg up and stretching it out, getting him to push against her hand in multiple ways, trying to lift the leg up, trying to pull it down, or push it out with her hand against the sole of his foot.
Then she moved on to his left leg. The results didn't even need comparison. He could barely muster any strength in his left leg, and the softest hint of resistance meant pain stabbing at him from all directions, like his knee was made of sugar glass. As soon as a flicker of a grimace passed his features, she pulled away.
The actual exercises weren't much better. To begin, they were pretty much just what he'd been doing, only now her hand wasn't in the way.
'Pull your knee up as far as you can,' she said.
While his right knee could easily reach his chest, the left didn't even make his hip before it started to hurt. Trembling, he bent it further.
'Stop. Stop! STOP IT!'
He dropped his leg back down, flattening it out.
'Idiot, boy.' She stepped away, pacing around in a circle. 'What did I tell you? You think you're strong when you're just a fool. Pushing through the pain won't do nothing but make the damn tear worse. You're not shortening your recovery, only lengthening it.'
Perspiration clung to Ty. The room was hot and stuffy, and his leg felt as hot as a branding iron. 'How long is my recovery going to take? Football starts in six months.'
She rolled her eyes, as if searching the heavens for help. 'A goal like that won't help you, only hurt you. It's too soon. You don't need to be there for tryouts. With the way you're looking, you're better off praying you make it in time for playoffs.'
'If praying worked I wouldn't be here.'
'Hah, a boy like you would have more people praying on your downfall than success. Now be quiet and let me work.'
There were more stretches and simple leg lifts. He laid on his back, one leg bent, the other straightened out, raising it so his thighs were perpendicular, and holding it there for a couple of seconds before lowering it again.
But a lot of it was simply stretching out his legs and straightening his knee, making sure he could actually fully extend it whether he was sitting, or laying down on his front or back.
Always he had to hold the pose for an exorbitant amount of time. She watched him as a camera would, unerring, and unblinking. If she saw he had even THOUGHT about pushing beyond the pain, she snapped at him.
'Do not give in to frustration! Pain is not an enemy to be conquered, it is your TEACHER. Let it guide you. If it hurts, you have gone too far.'
Eventually, she told him to stop completely, and handed him back his shoes. An hour had flown by, and a silhouette of sweat in the shape of Ty was left behind on the foam table.
She left the room for a moment, allowing him some time to sit in silence and think. His leg was almost numb, and he'd felt as if he'd gone through the most intense day of practice, yet he'd never left the room, hardly even left the table. Had he even done anything?
Soon, she returned, looking no less pleased. 'If you do not listen to me, and keep pushing yourself too far, I won't be able to help you, boy.'
'My name's Tyrese.'
'And when you stop acting like an insolent little BOY, you'll be called such. But if you wanna keep acting like you know better than the professional, than you can do your rehab on your own.'
He quietened down, and she looked satisfied.
'You'll need to repeat these exercises every day, for a week, just as I showed you, and DON'T push too hard. I'll know if you do.' She wagged a finger in his face.
He sighed, pushing himself up onto his own two feet, limping over to his crutches by the door. 'I get it, alright?'
'I'm not sure you do, but I'll have to trust you for now.'
She ducked out of the room, though waited for him, before leading him back to the front lobby.
'If you can find time twice a week, go use an exercise bike at your local gym, better yet if your school has one. Nothing serious, no inclines or anything like that. Just sit up straight, and don't put the resistance up high, and you can peddle for ten minutes. Of course, if its not painful. If' there's pain, you have to stop.' She looked at him seriously again, that same look there was no arguing with.
'Ten minutes. If it hurts stop right away. I get it.'
'Good. Now get outta here.'
All Ty had to do was be patient. Slowly but surely he'd build himself back up, then once he was ready, he could explode back onto the field and take over once again.
Coach Long was still waiting, and led Ty back to his car. The drive back was just as awkward, thanks to another question from Coach Long, though this one wasn't personal, the timing of it was still … unfortunate.
'The seniors' graduation party is this weekend. Well, at least the team's graduation party, anyway. Think of it like a pre-graduation party. Of course, we still have to celebrate our State Championship as well. We never really had the time before; there was always another game ahead of us.'
Celebrating the State Championship?… Even the thought left a rotten taste in his mouth. But before this season, that had been the greatest accomplishment one could hope for in high school football. That had been the goal his brothers had chased for four years. Nationals was just a dream within a dream. Outside of that, it was a send-off for the seniors. Regardless of circumstance, they deserved that.
'Sure. I'll probably need to be picked up, but I'll be there.'
'Great. I'll be happy to pick you up, no problem.'
Once Ty was dropped home, he watched Coach Long pull away and vanish down the street. A pre-graduation party. Wonderful, just what he needed. He started towards the house. Would that he could hole himself away until he was whole again. He remembered the way the others looked at him when they'd seen him at the hospital… like he was some broken, pitiful thing, as if it didn't even matter that he was the star who'd helped them win State more than anyone else.
Would they ever see him that way again before they graduated and parted ways forever?