Page 69 of Your Play to Call
Her office is minimal. Modern. With light and airy paint colors, soft light, and about five different seating options designed to offer maximum comfort. I’ve been seeing her since I made the move to New York. She pushes me in the right direction and is always willing to explore other areas outside of football once we’ve covered all the key topics.
“Winning makes it easier. The game is still fun.” I know that’s what she’s about to ask me next.
“Fulfilling because of the winning or because of something other than that?”
“I feel like I have a place here. I’m not playing because a bunch of guys got hurt but because they want me to. I’m good enough. It also brought me Willow.” My cheeks feel hot bringing her up.
“Willow. This sounds like your first adult relationship. How’s the balance? How do you feel about that?” she asks. That’s all she does, ask questions. I know it’s her job but sometimes I wonder how someone can fit so many questions in a fifty-minute session.
“It is. I’m trying to do as much as I can. I do any and all of the bonus training things when we’re not together. Some days, I feel like I’m doing something wrong or not committing to an opportunity. But when I’mwith Willow, those thoughts are quiet.” I rub my hands together, almost too hard. “I think it’s going well. I had something happen recently but…”
“You can share it if you’d like.”
That’s the thing, I’m notorious for letting my mouth run while digging myself a deeper therapy hole.
“We were at this charity event and out of nowhere, I was so jealous. Like, a type of feeling creeping into me that I’ve not felt in a long time. She was just talking to some guy and I couldn’t keep it together.”
“What do you mean?”
“I acted like a dick, or a toddler, the whole time it was happening. It felt like I was watching from the outside and I was so fucking embarrassed by how I was acting but I still didn’t stop. I made the guy feel uncomfortable. Willow was upset.”
“Interesting. Why do you think you couldn’t stop?” She shifts in her chair.
“My brain hurts. I don’t know why I couldn’t. I feel likeyoumight know…” Occasionally, I try to flip the script. It rarely works.
She laughs before crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.
“Could it be that you’re developing feelings? Substantial feelings?”
Of course she would answer with another goddamn question.
“Well, yeah. I am. But I’m not following.”
“Tripp, when things feel important to us, we want to do anything we can to protect them. Sometimes, it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, our actions run faster than our brains. Which is already something you struggle with, yes?”
“Yes. I’m an impulsive jackass and sometimes it really bites me. I know I need to keep working on it.”
“The only reason I’m pointing this out is because of the way your anxiety and panic attacks have almost completely dissipated since you’ve started spending time with Willow. This is significant. I don’t want youto overlook the importance of that.” Her voice is stern and caring at the same time.
She’s right. My anxiety has been almost non-existent, and I find I’m naturally in a better mood. It’s also helpful being home for back-to-back weeks.
“I wish I could tell you it was going to get easier, but I’m afraid it won’t. Things worth keeping are hard work.” She gazes at her notebook, flipping back a page. “Did you get to work on your homework from our last session?”
Ah, I was supposed to outline three possible paths for what I do when there is no more football. I only did one of the three.
“Part of it. Sort of. An option would be to find a way to use my college degree, do something with non-profits. I was looking at a few of the non-profits headed up by someone in the Cosmos organization and they have a few that are centered around kids. Giving them access to sports. Safe places to be after school. I think I would be happy doing that.”
“One is better than none. I think that’s a great start. For next time, let’s find the other two ideas and expand on this first one. What are you hoping your day to day looks like? Do you want to stay in this area or move closer to your hometown, or maybe somewhere else completely? Is it just you? Is it you and your mom? Is there someone else with you?”
Yes. Willow.
I nod in agreement. I know our time is ending.
“Now, let’s end with your affirmation.”
“I am resilient. I am strong. I am here,” I say, and I mean it. Those words run through my brain when I’m struggling. No matter how silly I thought it was when she first asked me to repeat after her.
I walk into myapartment and it feels like I’m in the wrong one. Music blasts through the house and it smells fucking delicious. Someone is cooking.