Hating My Best Friend by B. B. Hamel

Author:B. B. Hamel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B. B. Hamel

8

MAJOR

It’s hard to feel broken when Sara’s in my bed all that night.

Driving back from New York, I kept thinking one thing, one stupid thing. I couldn’t even tell Sara about it, I feel so stupid.

I just kept thinking about how disappointed my dad’s gonna be.

I haven’t told him yet. I couldn’t tell him right away. I just said that the team doctor wanted to take a look at me and that was all. I haven’t talked to him since.

Sara’s the only person I’ve told, actually. As far as I know, she’s the only one outside the team that knows I may never play baseball again.

Ah, shit. I got to stop thinking of it that way. It’s not a possibility.

I’m never playing again.

Absolutely never.

I didn’t tell Sara the whole horrible truth, but the doctor wasn’t gentle. He didn’t sugarcoat it. He told me straight up, right away.

Surgery won’t do shit. At this point, he thinks I need to heal naturally and get rehab. Eventually, I’ll walk without pain, but I probably won’t ever run without it. I definitely won’t be able to do what I used to do.

I won’t ever be a pro athlete again.

Even though it’s Sunday, I’m awake before Sara, a habit I know I won’t be able to break easily. I’m used to getting up early and getting my gym time done first thing. The flower shop’s closed on Sunday so we both have a day off. I roll out of bed, careful not to wake her, and head into the kitchen.

There’s nothing really here, so I end up calling down for room service. I order coffee, juice, pancakes, eggs, bacon, the whole fucking thing. I sit in a chair by the window, thinking about what the fuck I’m going to do until the food comes. I tip the guy, wheel it inside, and sip some coffee.

I don’t know anything else but baseball. Part of me is angry with my father for that. He should’ve let me go to school. At least that way I’d have a degree at the end of all this, something I could fall back on. I mean, I’ve got money, and Sara’s right about investing it. If I’m smart and careful, I can be comfortable for a long time.

But not forever. I know there are lots of retired guys that have gone on to do other things. I guess I’ll have to ask them what the fuck I can do sooner or later.

Hurts like hell to picture that though.

The weird thing is, there is a small part of me that’s relieved. I’m happy it’s over. I never loved the spotlight, the fans, the fame. I loved the perks of being famous, the girls and the money, but I hated the actual fame.

That’ll fade now. I’ll always have people recognize me, but they’ll get fewer and further between until one day, it stops completely.

Strange to picture, being a normal guy.

“Morning.” Sara pokes her head out from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Morning.” I stand and offer her some coffee.

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