Sunshine & Sidelines: Florida Sharks, #2

Chapter 1

Tobin

The Florida Sharks gave it a hard fight this past season, but it just wasn’t enough to make it deep into the playoffs. Actually, we only made it one game in and then we lost. It was all over way too soon. Since our offensive captain, Nash Witten, retired and moved home to Kissing Springs to be the football coach, we haven’t been a solid unit on the field. Last year, we played past November, but this year was over only one game into the playoffs.

Nash was from the same small town I was, and with him being a few years older than me, and watching his football journey with all the success he had, I looked up to him. Right out of college, I was drafted to the Sharks and was able to play with him, and I thought life couldn’t get better than that. Then when he announced he was leaving after only being able to play with him for one year, I was heartbroken, but that’s how this profession goes. It’s ever changing, and I’ve learned to adapt.

The past two years I’ve played professional football, and all through college football, we played so long through the season that I wasn’t ever able to come home for the holidays. Being home now to celebrate the season for thanks, giving, and family, and staying here four weeks with my parents is… bittersweet. It is nice to see them healthy and happy, but it’s not nice being back in a town that was so hard to leave in the first place. It took me a long while to get used to moving off to college, and I was homesick more often than weekend calendar days in a month’s time.

This town used to always go out of their way to hang Christmas lights and set out all of their finest holiday décor, and it looks like nothing has changed. I make a quick turn in my car to back into one of the angled parking spots downtown in front of French Kiss Coffee. Caffeine is calling my name, and I can’t wait to grab a hot cup of their house roasted blend and a slice of the blackberry pie that I haven’t had in ages. Surely, they make it the same as they did when I was young.

I turn off the engine and just sit and admire it all. Yep, things haven’t changed much. The coffee shop is next door like it’s always been. Jackson & Sons Hardware store is still directly across the street, and the library is at the end of the street.

I stretch my six-foot five frame out of my BMW i8 Roadster and take a deep breath in the cool air of the mountains. It’s a lot different from the humid heat of Orlando, Florida. It hasn’t snowed this year in Kentucky, which is unusual, and I’m glad for the pleasant drive.

I’m only a few customers back in line when I hear the distinct loud crunching sound of two cars crashing into each other, so I whip my head around to look out the window and assess the situation. Then I realize in horror that the hood of my car is underneath an old, rusted tailgate of a large red Ford truck.

Before overreacting, I take a few deep breaths in and let them out and count to a hundred as I watch out the front window to see who it is.

Well, well, well. It just so happens to be none other than my one and only ex-girlfriend who jumps out of the truck and is frantically looking around the empty street.

The shock of seeing her after all these years makes my knees wobble, and I have to take a seat in the nearest chair possible, one where I can still stare outside at the wreckage that is before me. I can’t bring myself to get up and move my legs, so I remain seated and wait, watching as she digs in her purse.

It’s as if I’ve gone through a portal back in time as I stare outside at the same beautiful desert sand colored, wavy hair. Yet, I know I am present in this time because her body is all grown up and filled out with very nice curves, giving her a perfect hourglass figure in those jeans and tennis shoes that she must still love to wear.

She pulls out a crumpled little piece of paper and appears to be writing something down. With another glance up and down the street, she wipes the tears from her eyes, places the note on the mangled windshield wiper, climbs back into her truck, and drives away. That old thing doesn’t look like it even got a scratch, whereas my entire front end is squashed up and definitely not drivable.

The flood of memories keeps me rooted on my ass. All the joy I felt in high school when I was with her. All the heartache I endured as I was trying to start a new life away from everything that I’d ever known in a new place, with new teammates and new coaches. All the anger that was caused from the unresolved reasoning behind why she rejected me. My heart was majorly conflicted then. I wanted to stay home to be with Nola and continue with the wonderful times we always had, but I knew all the sacrifices that it took, from not only me but my family, as well, to be able to achieve my goal and play at the next level. It was a hard choice. One that any eighteen-year-old should not have to make. One that haunts me still today, whether it was the right call or not.

Now, though, football will probably always be my only life. Could I stay single forever? I do have enough money to hire whatever services I could possibly need to take care of me, things that a wife would normally do. Such as reminding me to eat my veggies to stay healthy and yelling at me to put the toilet seat down after I go to the bathroom. Yeah, probably not.

I don’t think anyone could make me feel the same as Nola did when we were in high school. All the women I come across now are superficial and only want me for the wrong reasons. I need to come to terms with the fact that I will always remain lonely because no one can compare to the feelings I had when I was with Nola.

Chapter 2

Nola

The text notification on my phone bounces off the walls of my room and wakes me from a deep sleep. When I glance at the screen, my heart sinks. That’s definitely not what I wanted to wake up to. Today is two days since the wreck, and finally the other car’s owner is notifying me that I need to meet them at the body shop in town.

Without hesitation, I fire off a quick acceptance to the instructions on the screen, throw the phone on my bed, and roll back over, covering my head with my blankets, groaning. I don’t want to deal with this, but I don’t have a choice.

I’m nervous as hell to see whoever’s car it is, and just pray that they’re not too hateful.