by Kara Hart
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t be coming back to this wreck. She was long gone and I simply had to accept it. But men like me don’t accept the hard truth too easily. Men like me fight. We get maimed, shot, and lose limbs for the big things in life.
The night I met her – that man held a gun to our heads. I risked getting shot just to save her. Couldn’t she see I loved her? Couldn’t she understand that I would do anything for her? Shit, relationships are hard and people make mistakes. But if you really loved someone, shouldn’t you give them more than one chance? I know I had done wrong. I know it. But I was willing to take a step in a new direction.
I fell asleep with that bottle in my hand. By the time my eyes closed it was empty and dry as a bone. Men like me didn’t give up without a fight. Only problem was I was only fighting myself.
Laura
The TV in the bar blared loudly. I normally didn’t go for mimosas this early, but I didn’t have to shoot until eight PM, so why not? A sitter the network had suggested, thank God, was watching Alex. So it was me, all by myself. Just like old times. I could do anything I wanted. Of course, somehow I was sitting watching the fucking Patriots game in a bar in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
“I’ll take another, please.” I said politely.
“Sure thing.” The bar tender, classy and very put together, said.
The TV roared above us: “And there we have it, folks! The Patriots, playing a good game this morning, but not good enough.” The one announcer said.
Another chimed in, saying, “One can only imagine what Liam Conway would have brought to the table.”
The first commentator laughed, “If you have just started tuning in, Liam is nowhere in sight. It looks like his half-game suspension is turning into a complete no-show...”
The bar tender shook his head as he gave me my second mimosa. I took a sip and eyed him. “Why the shake of the head?” I asked.
“Where the hell is he?” He threw his hands up in the air.
“Who? Liam Conway? Aren’t you in New York? You can’t be a Patriots fan.” I joked.
“I’m from Boston, born and raised. I’m just out here for this job. I’m banking on the Patriots winning the Super Bowl. He needs to be out there. They’re shit without him.”
“He’s a bit reckless though, don’t you think?” I asked him.
“Reckless? He’s the best quarterback the world’s ever fucking seen. So he got into a fight? Even the NFL doesn’t give a shit about that.”
“But he got suspended.” I argued.
“Yeah, for half a game. I saw that. Doesn’t mean shit. They have to do that kind of stuff. They know not to press him too hard though. They need him in there. He wins and he sells tickets. I just don’t know where he is or what the hell he thinks he’s doing by not showing up.”
“Yeah, me too.” I whispered. I grabbed my phone from my purse and decided to do the unexpected thing. I called him. “Can you excuse me for one second? I have a phone call to make.”
“Sure thing, doll.” The man winked at me as the phone rang into my ear.
Somewhere in Massachusetts, Liam answered his phone solemnly. “Yeah.” He said.
“Liam? It’s Laura…” I waited for a reaction. Anything to tell me he was at least okay. He disappointed me, but I still wanted the best for him.
“Laura? Hi, uh, Hey. How are you?” He sounded congested, like he was just waking up. Weird, however, was the fact that I could hear the sounds of people talking in the background.
“Where are you? What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Nothing, I… Nothing.” He mumbled. The sounds of birds chirping and kids playing echoed in the background.
“Are you in a park?” I asked him.
“I went for a walk.” He said. “What’s going on? I thought you didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”
“I didn’t say that. I just want you to recognize your mistakes. Anyway, that’s a different conversation for a different time. You have a game to play, dammit!” The people next to me at the bar turned and looked at me.
The bar tender stopped drying one of his glasses and whispered, “Can’t be him, can it?”
“I was suspended, remember? Besides, none of them want me out there. I’m a fucking joke. To everyone. I ain’t worth jack shit.” He said. “When the going gets tough, men like me get thrown into the gutter. It’s not long after everyone forgets your name.”
“Liam, you need to listen to me. Call a cab and have them take you to the stadium. Get a coffee, take a shower, and do whatever you need to do to wake the fuck up and play.”
He shouted into the receiver, “No! I’m done with this game. You hear me? Done.” At this point it was clear he was drunk. It was about an hour to halftime and if he didn’t sober up fast he would lead his team into the ground.
“You idiot. Your team needs you. They’re losing badly out there. If it’s true that they hate you now, they won’t when you lead them to victory. So sober up, you bastard, and take your team into the Championship game. We need a hero this morning.” I said, hoping he’d come to his senses for once. The bartender had a huge smile on his face. He had stopped all his activities to listen to my conversation.
“You still done with me?” He asked me.
“We’ve already had this conversation. I definitely don’t want to have it again. If you can’t help yourself, then no one can. Not me, not your coaches, not anyone.” I hung up the phone, furious at him once again. When would he learn that he needed to be strong without me? That was what I liked about him in the first place.
When we first got to know each other, it was as if everything changed in an instant. He was polite, strong, and clear-headed. Now he was losing it, falling asleep in parks and missing huge games. I couldn’t even think about it. It was making me too angry.
“Was that…?” The bar tender gestured toward my phone.
“Yeah. We know each other. Long fucking story.” I said, taking a big gulp of orange juice and champagne. “I’m going to need a third, please.”
“Is he going to play? What happened? I can’t believe you know Liam Conway!” He exclaimed for the whole bar to hear.
“Keep it down. I’d rather not let the whole bar in on my personal life.” I said, motioning for him to speak quiet and close to me. “Who knows what he’ll do.” I shrugged.
“Fucking suspension…” The bar tender mumbled angrily.
* * *
Halftime came and went, and the Patriots were getting slaughtered to high hell. If I was on TV reporting on this, I would have said the team was done for. The morale was extremely low.
“Any hope for Liam Conway to save the day has now gone out the window. Folks, I think we know how this one ends.”
I shook my head and pounded my fist on the table, drinking my fifth mimosa of the day. “Damn you Conway!” I yelled at the screen. “Bastard.”
“Fuck the Patriots.” Someone in a booth behind me said. I didn’t even take a look to see who they were. I was glued to the screen.
“The Green Bay Packers are taking this one home. Another touchdown! I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel for the Patriots. At this juncture, they need a miracle.”
“Come on…” I whispered. “Don’t let me down again.” It was odd how invested I was in the game. Liam and I may be done for good, but we would always be connected one way or another. I couldn’t just watch as his team dug their own grave.
“Wait a second! Holy moly, folks! I can’t believe my eyes. Is that…? Yes! It’s Liam Conway!”
“Yes!” I screamed, jumping out of my seat.
“He ain’t gonna do shit.” Someone else yelled at the television. “Look at him. He looks like a wreck.”
“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?” I turned around and faced them. “Just you watch.”
Liam
“Conway is that you?” The crowd roared above me. They needed me, more than my team eve
n, now more than ever. I threw my arms up in the air and ran to the coach.
“It’s me.” I mumbled. “Let’s fuck these Packers up.”
“You look like shit. I have half mind to send you back home. Where the hell were you?” His arms were crossed, his face strained. I could tell he was angry, but he also needed me.
“Out drinkin’.” I smiled. I was at the end of my ropes. I didn’t care anymore. I was going to win this game. End of story.
He pulled me in closer so that no camera could read our lips. “You come on my field and disrespect me like this? I’ve been there for you from the start, Conway, but this is fucking ridiculous. You’re lucky as hell I need you right now. If I didn’t, I’d send you home and recommend a permanent suspension.” He spit onto the field below him.
“Don’t worry, coach. I got this. Call him out.” I pointed to the second-rate quarterback they had thrown in on a whim.
The coach blew his whistle and motioned for him to come in. The kid gave me a look of disgust and I whispered, “Watch how a real player does it.” I ran out onto that field and never looked back.
In the huddle I came face to face with my demons. I looked everyone dead in the eye, one at a time, and took a sigh of relief. “It’s good to be on this field. Now, I know you all hate me. For good reason probably. But now’s not the time to go against me. We’re down by 14 points. By my calculations, that’s an easy fucking win. But you have to listen to me. You have to play ball. For the next few hours, are you with me? Will you stand next to me and lead these Packers to their graves?”
I looked around at the players. Charlie nodded. He said, “You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”
“Shit. I know it.” I laughed.
“How many times are you going to come onto this field with apologies? We don’t need apologies or pep talks or nothing. We need to win.” Jimmy said.
“Then let’s win.” I smiled. “On three. Victory.” Our hands fell into the middle, one on top of the other. We are all in this together.
1-2-3 VICTORY!
Our hands flew into the air. Before we knew it, we were out on that field, eyes in front of us, dodging the some of the hardest defensive players the NFL has got. Pass after pass, run after run, we began to gain solid ground once again.
The sports commentators were eating this shit up. “I can’t believe my eyes! Liam Conway, controversial as ever, is redefining what it means to be a football player. He is truly giving this game his all this morning.”
Fourth and long, we only had one real shot. I was still drunk, depressed, and angry, but when I got into the zone, there was no stopping me. “HIKE!” The ball came directly into my hands. I looked for Charlie. No, he wasn’t in the clear. Jimmy. Shit, it wasn’t looking good.
Three linemen were barreling towards me. Everything moved in slow motion now. The sound had grown filtered and almost non-existent. One guy’s hands were on my shoulders. I spun and broke free from his grasp. Fuck, I thought. Is this it? Is this what losing felt like?
I nearly fell to the field, losing my balance. But something kept me up on my toes. I decided my only chance was to make a run for it. I pushed one guy away from me, while ducking through the other’s outstretched arms. It was like running through a firefight. I only had one narrow path and if I didn’t make it, I would lose everything. They would take the ball and bring it to another touchdown.
Only 7 yards to go. I just needed that first down. One yard, two yard, three yard, four yards passed. One of the Packers wrapped his hands around my ankles. “No!” I screamed, dragging my feet. Another yard down. Just stay up on your feet, dammit. One more yard down.
Men were diving at me, coming from all angles. I was done for. I started to tumble, I reached my arms forward, and finally hit the ground. The crowd cheered above me. I tried to discern whether their cries were good or bad. I looked at the ball and then the referee, and it was called. I got my first down.
I threw my fist into the air ran back to the huddle. “Alright, second chance. Standard formation. Jimmy, you're going long. We’re cutting into their lead once and for all.” I said. He nodded. “Charlie, back me up out there. You'll be my bodyguard today.” We broke the huddle and decided to go for it.
I dropped back, eyes on the target. Jimmy gave me a nod as he turns, so I threw the ball with about as much force and speed as a bullet launched from a pistol. The catch was direct and smooth. Touchdown! It was hard to find a defensive team that could compete with my throw.
I high fived my teammates and walked to the sidelines. Coach Stevens shook my hand and playfully slapped my ass. I jumped forward. “You did good out there.”
“Yeah?” I unattached my helmet and ran my hands through my wet hair. “You don't want to take me out anymore? Sounds like a bad idea now don't it?”
“You're doin’ good. Just bring it home.” He said.
“Thanks coach.”
* * *
The game went as planned. By dedicating ourselves to a strict wall of defense, as well as pushing strong offensive plays with the best players we had, we took the game home. Touchdown after touchdown. Throw by throw.
At the end of the game, I turned to look at the crowd. They were all just faces to me, every single one of them. Those faces chose to come out to see us win for their state, night after night. So far, we've lifted their expectations. So what do we get in return? Fast cars? Endless money and satisfaction?
I sat at the press conference after with that thought in mind. Laura. Most men would have given up by now. Something in me was pushing me to keep trying. Maybe I was deficient. Maybe I should have just let it go. Then again, that kind of thing wasn't for a guy like me. A real man keeps on fighting. A real man stands against the flames, despite the odds.
A reporter, some young graduate from Columbia, Harvard, or some other school of privilege, stood up and asked, “You had a rough start this season. What's changed inside of Liam Conway? What made you want to play better?” She listened attentively for my answer, notepad in hand.
“You mean besides wanting to win it all? The money? The cars? No, I'm joking. It's actually, uh, going to sound a bit cheesy. I met a girl worth fighting for. Unfortunately, we’re not together anymore, but she gave me hope. She made me realize my love for the game just as it was starting to slip away.” I said.
“Slip away? What do you mean by that?” She asked.
I scratched my head. It was embarrassing having a hundred microphones shoved in your face, waiting for your philosophical opinion on subjects you're barely qualified to answer. It’s all a part of the game, I guess. I just hoped Laura was watching.
“It's as simple as it sounds. I hate to admit this, but after winning that Super Bowl last year, my love for the game was slipping away. I love playing, but there's all this other stuff surrounding the sport that really has no place on the field. Secretly, I was ready to give up, ready to throw in the towel and leave forever.” Some of my teammates shuffled in their seats. One of the coaches coughed loudly. “Fuck it, I ain't afraid to speak my truth. This woman saved me. That's all. And now I'm giving all the remaining teams this warning: Watch your back. ‘Cause I'm coming for you.” The sounds of cameras clicking, laptop keyboards clacking, and smart phones bleeping could be heard all over the room.
Another reporter stood up and asked, “No fights today, huh?” I shrugged. I wasn't going to take the bait that easily. “I'm guessing the suspension made you think about what's at stake.”
“You guessed wrong.” I laughed and closed my eyes for a brief second. I had to decide how I would answer this one. “You know, there's a lot of tactics a player can use on the field to intimidate the other team. Using words is generally the weakest and easiest route to choose to do that.” I stopped myself short and took a deep silence.
Laura
“Care to elaborate, Liam?”
At this point, I had left the bar and headed home. The press conference was on as I held Alex in my lap, sewing a pocket of
his pants.
Liam smiled, giving the reporter that signature cocky look of his. “If one of the players fucked with me today out on the field, I would have pummeled him just like I pummeled that second-string loser last game. See, sometimes you guys with the cameras can't hear what is said out the field. Well, it just so happens that the guy I socked deserved it. That girl I love, the woman I mentioned earlier… He made a comment saying he was going to, well, he said he was going to do inappropriate things to her.”
The whole press whispered loudly. I felt my stomach drop. He was defending me? Shit…
He continued speaking. The tone of his voice was sounding more humble by the second. “I just snapped. It's not that weird to blow up on the field. You in the press love it and the audience loves it too. This was different though. If a man is going to insult the woman I love, at least have the decency to say it to me when I'm on my feet. I'll still sock you in the teeth, but at least then it's a little fair to me.” He laughed. “No but really, people laugh when I say this out loud, but I'm done with all that fighting shit. I'm not one of those guys who is into punching people in the face every game. But if you insult the mother of my child, you better fucking expect to end up in the hospital.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “And one more thing…”
I hit the TV screen. “Oh, Liam…” He had a million excuses, but this time he actually sounded genuine.
Alex started to run around the house in excitement. “Liam! Liam!” He repeated, running in circles.
“Your dad is a jerk,” I began, rolling on the floor next to Alex. I laughed. “And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I really love him. I really do.”
Alex smiled, probably too young to understand the intricacies of love. Although, maybe not. Fact was, he and his dad were all I had left in my life as a constant. Even Katherine would someday leave me to pursue her own life and love. Liam was always there for me. Despite his character flaws, he had really changed into someone worth standing by. I couldn't believe he admitted to having a kid on national television. It wasn't exactly the best way to announce it, but it sure did make my cheeks grow hot with excitement.
