Because God…it’s so painful.
I wish I didn’t understand why he did it, because it would be easier to mire myself in hate and bitterness, which I’m sure would stop the pain that emanates from the center of my chest. But I do understand him, in ways that most others never would.
Just fifteen days and some change ago, my day had started off wonderfully.
I had an amazing counseling session with Mara. She looked healthy, although not quite happy. However, she had told me the words that I had longed to hear, that was she was staying strong to fight her desire to use meth again. More important, her parents had agreed to come in and talk to me the next week. I didn’t have high hopes they’d make it in, because I knew how easy it was to make those promises yet so very hard to keep them. Still, I was feeling more confident that Mara was taking the right steps so she didn’t stray down the same destructive path as her parents.
My day got even better from there.
Cosmo called me.
Which in and of itself isn’t all that strange. He’s called me over the years for a variety of reasons.
But that day?
That day he called from the lobby of Crested Pine, which is an excellent local rehab facility just one county over. He was getting ready to go in, hoping five times was a charm when it came to getting clean. He called me, knowing that there would be no means to communicate for the next thirty days, but he felt it important that I know he was taking the step.
He told me that he was doing this for himself, but more than anything, he hoped that I would be the one who truly benefited from it in the long run.
They were the perfect words and something in the tone of his voice made me think he could do it this time around.
But that is where the sun set and dark clouds rolled in on me. Dramatic, I know, but that’s exactly how it felt.
Alex flew back into town from his game road trip, which followed on the heels of his father showing up at his apartment unexpectedly. I never did get to see Alex on Christmas Eve, but he called to tell me what was going on, and that his dad had left rehab early. He sounded stressed and I did my best to reassure him that there was a chance his dad would be okay. In my mind I knew chances were that he’d relapse, since he had not finished the program, but I didn’t want to worry Alex further.
So I wished him a merry Christmas, told him I loved him, and wished him good luck on his upcoming games. He thanked me quietly for the well wishes, ignoring the words of love I gave him.
I remember giving myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror before he arrived that night, snickering to myself. My eyes were bright and dancing with eagerness to see Alex, and I almost could imagine what a junkie must feel like right before he gets his next hit.
My doorbell rang and I almost squealed in delight, but I didn’t, because I was a mature professional woman. However, that didn’t stop the mile-wide grin that was on my face as I practically ran down the hall and into the living room.
Skidding to a halt at the door, I took a deep breath and opened it up.
And yes, he was just as breathtaking as ever. More so, if you took into account I hadn’t seen him in four days—unless you count hungrily watching him on TV. We had talked on the phone, not often because he’d said he was so busy between travel, games and practices, but enough to keep me primed and ready. If he seemed a little distracted or distant, I chalked that up to the incredible stress he was under. Between not playing up to par and his dad leaving rehab early, I knew he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his massive chest. “I missed you. ”
He gave me a light squeeze and then released me, stepping past me into the house. In my line of work, perception is key, and I immediately sensed a tense energy surrounding Alex. I quietly closed the door and turned to face him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, not even needing the nervous look on his face to confirm my suspicions just based on that one, perfunctory hug.
“Nothing,” he said hastily.
Way too hastily, and the fact he wouldn’t quite meet my gaze head-on caused warning bells to start a five-alarm chorus.
“Alex,” I said softly and took a step toward him with my arm reaching out. “What’s wrong?”
He took a short step back, and then turned away from me, raking his fingers through his dark hair. His shoulders were tense as he walked over and sat on the couch. “Actually, I guess we need to talk. ”
Alex turned his body on the couch so when I took the seat next to him he was facing me. He laid an arm across the back of the sofa, putting his hand near my head. I was heartened briefly when he reached out and stroked his fingertips across my hair, and equally saddened when he moved them away.
“You’re kind of scaring me here,” I tried to tease but it came out all panicked and needy.
His eyes rose to meet mine and they were sad and just a tiny bit aloof.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he began and my stomach started to knot. “About us. About my career…my dad. Just a lot of shit has been processing in my head. ”
“You’ve had a lot of stress on you,” I agreed, reaching out to rub my fingers on his knee.
His gaze dropped from my mine, and he watched my fingers play absently on his denim-covered leg. He had an almost pained look—which never left his face—when he decided to look at me again.
“I think I have too much on my plate. And it’s affecting how I play. I’ve lost my focus and it’s really starting to bother me that I’m letting my team down. ”
My words were measured and careful. “I can see that. ”
Alex gave me a small smile and then scooted forward on the couch so he was sitting on the edge of the cushion. This effectively dislodged my hand and the loss of contact with him left me cold. He braced his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging down loose as he stared at the floor. Giving a helpless sort of laugh, he said, “The ironic thing is…you’re the one that got me loving the game again. It’s solely to your credit that I even give a shit that I’m letting my team down. ”